Alright, so picture this: Itās the Instituteās yearly Halloween party. The Archival drones are definitely not feeling up to it this year, but itās an excuse to have something more than takeout or whatever the nearby pubs offer, so they drag themselves out of their ongoing nightmare to mingle with more normal Institute 9-to-5ā²ers. Levi, being the good lad he is, started preparing a while in advance, wanting to make sure his beloved Uncle Beeperās first year as Head goes along smoothly. Heās even dressed up for the occasion -- Beeper and Mini-Beeper. He has drawn on a beard. Peter is losing his mind just looking at him. Good lad, Talbot!
And then Leah stumbles in. Well, not really stumbling, she makes those heels work and she hasnāt pre-gamed too badly at her mateās in Barking. It still stands she took the train from Barking out to Westminster dressed in... Well. Jonah, But Make Him A Thot.Ā
She saunters in, green coat with long tails, a plunging neckline, and hot pants in Londonās autumnal chill, her heels are as tall as most of Peterās tales. She has drawn on a little pencil moustache and wears a quite period accurate top-hat, into which her hair is gathered to give the illusion of shortness. Sheās even got a monocle, for fuckās sake.
And they clap eyes from across the room. And Leah grins so wide and clears the distance, whether Levi is enthralled by this backhand against his boss or traumatized by the very concept of Sexy Magnus. Sheās snuck in liquor, and wants to really drive home how complementary their outfits are. Writes him up a tidy little divorce paper as a prop. They arenāt attached to each other at the hip, they just occasionally cross paths again in the course of the evening. Each time, Leah is a little more drunk than the last. The same goes for Leviās direct boss -- Damn it, Leah.
Levi has to drag his bedsheet ghost boss and said bossā Sexy Magnus plus one back into the basement before they start making idiots of themselves or spilling secrets the rest of the Institute isnāt meant to know. And he sits with these two drunken pests, and hears them start yammering on, and realizes heās... Not as pressed by this as he should be. Heās had a fun night with his peers, a chance to unwind, and is now making sure they are safe after the party. Itās almost normal. Ignore they are in the Archives. Itās a port of camaraderie and belonging in the port of whatever their lives are in S4.
Beeper later comes down with the last of the cake for Levi and helps give him strength to keep those two from escaping confinement. They get into the tunnels anyway, but overall, itās been a better than expected evening.
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@leavyes | āā iāve never seen you before. ā
"Huh?" A very frazzled looking Eliza looks down from the top of the ladder. "Oh!" she smooths her hair back, "You must be Mr. Talbot." She carefully descends the ladder and lands in front of him. Holding out her hand, she says "I'm Elizabeth Kraven, it's nice to meet you."
The whole venue could choke her with mist. The townhome is nothing more than a church to the Lonely, walls clad in neutral shades such that all the rooms blend together, scrubbed clean of any historical character. Those shapeless rooms are just small enough to discourage mingling among inhabitants. It had been a remodel, she remembers that fact distantly, though old places like this were always made for style rather than comfort. The nearest thing she finds to it is in a back office, too polished and clean to have been used. Were it not for the paperwork with last weekās date etched in an upper corner, she would say the whole place had been abandoned immediately after the furniture delivery.
She sits behind the desk, setting her cane against the arm of her chair. It feels right, this backdrop for their little tete-a-tete. Mr. Talbot can have the seat opposite her, small and low-set. No doubt the Lukasā pet solicitor got a rise out of his clients discomfort, small and insignificant and desperate for help before him. She feels sorry for her imminent guest, really, but this is, after all, a business transaction. Folding her hands together, she reclines her head against the heels of her palms, considering what is to be done. For so long, itās only been Jon and Elias creeping into her life, trying to see through, with Talbot mere window dressing. His texts have caught her all off-guard.
If only there were any joy to be gleaned from this, a kernel of self-satisfactory irony in a servant of the Beholding begging her time and help. Itās Talbot, though. The only thing she feels is pity for all thatās at hand.
The unlocked door is feather-light when opened, but it brings the roar of the city into the tomb.Ā āHere,ā she calls, hearing the cityscape fade away.Ā āAt the back.ā A pause.
āHave answers for me when you get here, Mr. Talbot.ā // @leavyes
ā I was just going to leave this here. You know , for next time. ā
Home is a tricky thing. The Archives are the closest thing to constant she has in terms of it. The Institute felt more like a fall back : a place to come back to when she needed to come back to something. In truth , the concept was held so long ago that she remains unsure of the feeling. But watching Levi place her nightshirt in the drawer of his dresserĀ stirs something in her chest that makes it difficult to speak. Her silent question is answered and she finds her eyes drift downward.
ā You want me to stay here again ? ā Itās meant to be a statement but uncertainty creeps into her voice and betrays the intent. Hard to blame her though. Sheās not used to permanence anymore.