tinker away

"Theodore." She repeated with a smile, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Like the president. It’s a good name." She mused. "Seems we’re in the same boat, there. I only just moved to town a few weeks back. Haven’t even been here a month. Nor have I the foggiest what Southern Comforts is." She chuckled, beginning to replace the cover of the typewriter. 

After a moment, when he began to insist on the facts, she heaved a resigned sigh, her demeanor changing from polite to no-nonsense in a swift shift of her shoulders.

"Only my mother calls me Edith, Teddy, and only when she’s cross." Edie replied with a smile. Turning to face him, she put a hand on her hip, giving him a thinly veiled staredown topped off with a tight smile.

"Now, I’m not sure what you think you saw," She began slowly, "But hypothetically, isn’t it possible that someone could put their neck out on the line for another without any thought of compensation? Now…I don’t know about this mystery person that you thought you saw," She said pointedly, "But if anyone came knockin’ on my door looking to cut off some fingers, well…" She hoisted the typewriter off of the counter and gave him a grin. "They’d better be ready."

There was no way that she could outright admit to what she had done, but she thought, unless he was dimmer than he’d thus far proven, that he would catch on to her double meaning, and hopefully, that would be enough. 

She gave him another smile and turned away, before she paused and looked back at him.

When she began to speak in double meanings he simply raised an eyebrow at the young woman as if to challenge the difficulty of her words. Instead of continuing to insist on something that she clearly wasn't planning on giving in, he sighed in defeat and tucked his hands back into his pockets. "Well hypothetically - I'm sure that person is very grateful and wishes to convey their gratitude." He smirked before looking around nonchalantly, "Like if this hypothetical person happened to work at a desert cafe - where they get free sweets." he suggested casually before sighing. "Hypothetically - of course." He fought off a smirk until she mentioned the manuscript and his face fell slightly.

Theo was never really one to lie to people about things - except where it was required but this? He didn't want to give up the manuscript just yet, but what else was he supposed to do? He was a terrible liar.

"Well..." He began cautiously, "I didn't see them with the typewriter. if you'd like I can look around my apartment more, maybe it fell out somewhere?" He offered. That'd  have to do. Wasn't exactly the truth, but wasn't a lie at the same time. A half-truth, even. He looked at her with the best guise of sympathy he could muster. 

"I'm real sorry if anything got left behind." He frowned,he supposed he could leave it at her welcome mat when he was done with it - no harm done, right? 

"No, not at all… I could use some company." the redhead said with a polite smile, nodding her head toward the seat in front of her. I haven’t even ordered yet. Had a hankerin’ for lasagna, but I just overheard Shirley yelling for Dimitri to put another batch in the oven… so I think it’s going to be a while.."

Theo met her gaze before breaking out into a grin again, "I'm Theodore by the way, but Theo would do just fine if that's what ya want." He offered with a small nod as he realized that the redhead didn't even know his name and yet was gracious enough to let him sit with her,

"Yeah, I’ve, um, I sort of grew accustomed to working around that, you know?" She replied distractedly, her fingers moving over the polished buttons. If there had been any damage after hitting the man with it, he had done a swell job of repairing it. 

"It was stolen." She replied suddenly at the implication in his words, tearing her eyes away to stare up at him. Her hand moved protectively over it when he called it a ‘relic’ and she frowned, thinking of her grandmother’s typewriter being junked for scrap. 

"No, thank you, I think it’ll be alright." She replied with a hesitant smile. He seemed to have honestly come through for her and after a split second decision she spoke again. 

With a small grin he extended his hand, "Well - that's awfully rude of my don't ya think? I'm Theodore Morris. I'm pretty new around these parts. If ya swing by Southern Comforts you'd probably see me there, I'm a clerk." He added, looking her up and down before sighing and glancing around. 

"Listen. Edith, right? I know you were there, I get that my right eye was damn near swollen shut but I know what I saw. And it was definitely you. I promise henchmen aren't going to show up at your house and cut off your fingers or something equally macabre." He stated bluntly. 

When he started to speak, she tore her eyes from her most precious belonging and stared at him, a crease upon her brow. The question at first confused her, why’d she do it? Why wouldn’t she? Didn’t he realize how close to getting himself killed he had been?

The bruises on his face told the truth that she had been dread to acknowledge; he was the man that had been in the alleyway. He looked young, maybe even younger than she was; she wondered, as he spoke, what choices he’d made that had brought him to being beaten behind buildings late at night.

He took a step back and gestured to the machine, "Obviously, it's all yours." He assured, "I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of makings sure that everything works. Your 'T' and 'S' keys were sticking." He added with a small nod. 

Theo tilted his head, watching the brunette with careful eyes before shaking his head. "You lost it? Well luckily for you it fell into my lap then. Free repairs AND you get it returned to you in one piece. I have to admit, it's quite the relic, if anyone else had ahem..found it, I wouldn't be surprised if they tore it apart and sold it for parts." He explained, knowing that while the typewriter was old, there was some high quality working parts on the inside. 

"Charlotte!" She called, not quite hearing what the unfamiliar voice was asking. "Char- Oh, damn." The other clerk had gone on lunch just ten minutes ago, she wasn’t do back for another forty-five. "Just a minute!" She called, yanking another book out from behind the shelf. As she stood, she saw that the arms of Edward’s nice sweater was covered with dust and she smiled meanly. 

"Alright, pardon me, just wrestlin’ with an uncooperative shelf back there," She apologized as she headed through the stacks back towards the sound of the voice. "What can I help you with, m-mister…" Her words came to a stuttering halt as she rounded the corner and came face to face with a face that she would rather have not faced. 

Edie could feel her face flush but she kept her chin up, looking the man directly in the eye. Maybe it wasn’t him, she didn’t recall him being so..tall. 

"Uh... Hi..." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, "You uh... you dropped this." He hefted the typewriter on the counter and looked down at her. He was still in small sense of shock - why would this woman who he had never met in his life show up out of nowhere and risk her well-being just so she could throw her typewriter at his attacker. 

Though, when the man mentioned that he had no idea and that a workbench was involved, he chuckled and nodded. “Bishop, Woody Bishop. And who ya might be li’l fella?” Woody asked, wondering more about this young man. “You mentioned a workbench, yeah? What’s it ya do if ya have one of those? For a livin’ I mean.”

"The name's Theodore Morris. Theo works just as well though." He smiled, "I'm actually a clerk at Southern Comforts, the new lil' bakery that opened up not too long ago. I just tinker quite a bit with things." he smiled and nodded. "So are you a stock broker or somethin'?" He asked, remembering the man mentioning working with numbers and stocks. Which wasn't too far from what he did but he wasn't going to shoot off the handle talking about his illegal activities.

Evey tapped her fingers against the wood of her table, her eyes drifting lazily over the crown in Dimitri’s as she waited for her food to reach the table. It had been so long since she was able to people watch, and although this place brought back memories, she was thankful they were fond ones. 

It was packed in the family style restaurant, an although she had come alone, she was surprised no one else had taken up residence at the table where she waited. 

"If you're waiting for someone, I'll leave but uh... Want some company?" He asked cheerfully, his eyes hoping he wouldn't have to awkwardly slink away from the redhead. 

I don’t know what’s so great about ponds, but I sure love lookin’ at ‘em.

Something seemed to click in her mind then and she found herself surging forward, shifting the heavy typewriter in her hands the moment it seemed the fight was over and the victor was ready to claim his just desserts.

Turns out there was someone there who could put a stop to the fight.

It was probably the snow, Edie would reflect later, the crunching of the snow, or perhaps her excited breathing that had the man turn around just as she wrenched the typewriter through the air, catching him in the side of the face. She could hear the dull ring of the carriage return bell ring comically as the heavy man hit the floor in an awkward looking slump. 

For a moment, things seemed frozen as she caught her breath and then she looked from the fallen man to the machinery in her hands and promptly dropped the typewriter as though the case had suddenly heated under her fingers. Her eyes then turned to the man, the victim in this little drama, and she saw that he was very much alive, albeit bloody and bruised, and very much staring straight at her.

Right before he was about to try to make a run for it, he spotted the tiny brunette who seemed to be lugging a compact box with came up behind the man who was about to deliver the final punch. Instead he was greeted with the box in her hands to be flung at his face, sending him directly to the ground with a loud thud. 

Theo glanced at the woman, perplexed with a multitude of questions. How did she get there? Why the hell was she carrying around such a heavy box? Why was she carrying around such a heavy box at such a late time? More importantly, why did she just do that? Before he could open his mouth to ask just one of those questions, let alone get out a 'thank you' she turned and ran the opposite direction. 

He reached out for her but his fingers barely brushed the material of her shoulder bag. When she was clear out of the alley, Theo looked a the box only to discover that it wasn't a box at all. An old typewriter was secured away in the box-like cover. 

Hearing the apologies, he sighed and smiled charmingly before helping the man out. “It’s ‘kay, fella. It’s an honest t’God mistake so just take a breath an’ stan’ up.” He said, smiling to him and handing back some of the items he had dropped. “You need a sack, pal? One for those trinkets?” He asked, looking to one that seemed to be…Hell, Woody couldn’t figure out what it was. “What’s this in my hand, fella?”

Inhaling sharply, he rubbed the back of his head and looked at the man, "I know - I just really should be more careful.' he chastised himself before gathering the rest of his trinkets and standing up. "I sorta got carried away in m'own thoughts and forgot if I'm bein' totally honest with you." He smiled as the man before him asked what he had in his hand. 

Theo simply shrugged, "Funny you should mention that, I have no idea, it just looked like it'd be useful for something that I have back on workbench at home." He grinned cheerfully. 

"Sorry again about that Mr...?" 

Edie’s breath fogged up in front of her as she walked home from Fitzgerald’s, the bag with her manuscript slung awkwardly over her shoulder and the toteable typewriter held like a weight in front of her. Her mother had assured her that carrying it around would give her unsightly and mannish arms, to which she had responded: 'Good, I've always dreamed of being a sailor.'

Despite her mothers assumptions, Edie’s arms hadn’t suddenly turned into muscle-y logs, though carrying the typewriter had become increasingly easier.  There was something about the heavy weight that made her feel a trifle safer as she walked to her new apartment in the night. The line of row houses wasn’t far from the store, but she often cut through an alley so long as it was night out. If it hadn’t been as cold as it was, she probably wouldn’t have attempted such a thing so late in the evening. 

Snow crunched lightly under her boots as she tried to bury her face into her scarf. As it was with winter, the snow seemed to soak up the sounds of the tussle till she was near the mouth of the alley. When she finally heard them, she stopped short, holding her breath as she heard the sound of something heavy, hitting something soft and the 'oof!' before someone fell into the snow. She was still too far away to discern the words, but slowly inched forward staying in the shadow of the alley.

As he fell into the snow for the umpteenth time a cursed under his breath before swinging at the guy's kneecap, thanking his few lucky stars when his knee buckled and gave Theo a few extra seconds to get his wits about him and kick his assailant. The man growled and grabbed Theo's leg, twisting it painfully and forcing Theo into the snow once more. Before he could react, his attacker was punching him in the face and a painful yelp left his mouth as the two men struggled to gain the upper hand. Theo noticed the man's appearance, light scruff, dark hair, well built. More than likely works with his hands or does a lot of lifting for his job. His expression was more telling, however, he was angry. Probably looking to hit Southern Comforts where it'd hurt. Theo couldn't exactly do his job correctly if he was laying in a hospital bed, or worse, on a slab in the morgue. 

A surprised gasp left her lips as he tried to stable himself from completely falling over. She glanced curiously at the items he had in his hands and the few that fell. “It’s alright. Busy streets usually causes an accident sooner or later.” She smiled at him, trying to reassure that everything was fine. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle as he tried to pick up the fallen items. He was surely something different than what she’s has usually seen in Montford. “Here, let me help.” She closed her purse before squatting down to pick them up. 

"Or maybe perhaps I should invest in a tote bag, huh?" He wrinkled his nose, "Although buying all of this was rather spur of the moment." He sighed to himself before standing up. It took a moment for him to put the dots together as he recognized the young woman. Theo wasn't really one to read through the gossip columns or social sections of the paper, but he was fairly certain that the woman was a socialite.

"Thank you for helping, most probably would have yelled at me." He shook his head slightly, "I'm Theo." He smiled warmly. "I'd shake your hand but I'm afraid I'd just send these little trinkets all over the place and I'd be here all afternoon to pick them up." 

Sue gladly took his arm, dropping a few bills one the counter to pay for what she had in her bag. The baker took Theo’s arm and let him lead her out of the shop and down the street. 

"I ain’t sure holdin’ down the shop is quite accurate, more like running it into the ground. I bet ya a dollar he’s given out at least 5 pastries since I left…. and we’ve probably only gotten five customers… That man’s too sweet for his own damn good." 

They moved through the crowds, Sue keeping a nice firm grip on the man to her left. “So Theo, whatcha gotta talk to me about? I know it ain’t money issues, we’ve been pretty solid for a month or so.” 

Theo grinned at the redhead, "Knowing him he probably gave out more than that, but his hearts in a good place, and I can admire that." He nodded before turning down the street. 

"Oh well I uh.. Just money for the other stuff. We're actually doing pretty well although I have to admit - we could use some more business. Batch 19 seems to have a pretty good grip on business around town. Although I suspect once they get a taste of what we have to offer, it won't be that way for very long." He explained with another grin. 

"And I say 'we' very loosely. Lord knows I know close to nothing when it comes to the makings of your giggle water." He sighed, "Although I have been sketching out some new designs that might make the process quicker, but that's for another day." 

"So Theo, my boy, how much flour are you hold out from me? Cause I got about ten orders of muffins that have to go out by noon tomorrow. Think you can help a gal out?" 

"I do believe I can help ya out. There's some matters I need to speak to you about anyway." He said offering her his arm, "I'll come back and do some shopping later." He smiled, ushering them out of the building. 

"Wes holding down the shop?" He asked casually, strolling down the street heading towards his own apartment.