Standing still, with the scenery flying by

[heart_beatings]

It's been a week, and if Kevin were a Break, he'd probably be expressing his feelings by rolling around on top of whichever table would annoy the most people at once. Fortunately, he is still a Kevin, which means he is sitting in a chair with his feet on the floor like a civilized person and doesn't really want to interact with anyone enough to annoy them anyway.

Still, he's not happy, and it's sort of obvious in the way he's radiating sulking. Seven days. Seven days of restlessly prowling the city in search of a familiar street. Seven days of avoiding that Hat-monster as hard as he possibly could, not to mention every other person in the mansion with white hair. Seven days of feeling guilty about the money that kept appearing in his room and the food he was forced to take from the kitchens.

Most of all, seven days away from Emily, and though he's overheard enough to know he hasn't actually missed the burial, he's...well, he's unsettled, displaced. It should be a comfort not to have to face it yet, but he doesn't have any more idea what to do with himself here than he did at home. At least there he'd have Emily attached to his leg.

Perhaps it's a longing for some sense of normalcy that's driven him to this bakery, but if it was, it isn't helping. The croissant and the tea on the table in front of him are untouched.

Comments

[smallkindnesses.livejournal.com]

It's the first day that Shelly has allowed herself to venture out before sunset. She's missed the sun, though she still keeps herself swathed in a light cloak--it's almost become like a security blanket, of late.

She almost chooses not to bother Kevin, when she sees him, but he looks so discontented that she cannot simply pass him by.

"Mr. Regnard." she says softly, to get his attention.

[heart_beatings]

He glances up at her at his name -- it is his name, after all. At first he doesn't recognize her, being in the light like this, and if it weren't for her cloak he'd probably miss who she was entirely. Then, too, it's been a week since he's seen her, and he didn't get a very good look at her then.

After a few blank moments, though, he realizes she's the woman he met by the gate -- the one he thought was mad -- and stands up. It's a bit awkward, but still; she's obviously a noble lady and he's a knight and that's just what one does.

"You --" Kevin stops, looking a bit helpless. "I'm sorry, I -- never caught your name. Milady."

[smallkindnesses.livejournal.com]

She gives a small, wry smile, hardly feeling noble enough to receive such deference, regardless of her title. Such things have never been more tan a formality, to her, and well..."

"Shelly. Rainsworth." she replies. "Sit... Please, sit. We'll be friends, one day."

She takes a few steps closer to him, studying his face. How much has he found out, since his arrival?

"Are you well?"

[heart_beatings]

Rainsworth. Kevin has heard of the house, though he doesn't know enough of them to know their first names -- but does it matter, here?

"I'm well enough," he lies, but he doesn't sit. They always tell you to sit, but you stand up as long as they do. It's part of the ritual. He does, however, have to stop himself from shifting uneasily. Her scrutiny -- and the mentioning again that she's somehow from his future -- make him nervous, and the look on his face remains wary.

"And you?"

[smallkindnesses.livejournal.com]

Realizing that he won't sit until she does, Shelly sighs silently and lowers herself into a chair. She's familiar with that look--he wore it more than half the time, during his early days living in Rainsworth.

"Well enough." she echoes softly, and no more convincingly than he, gaze lowered.

She almost jumps, when a waiter pops up by the table, having noticed her fine clothing and hoping to garner a generous tip. His certainty wanes somewhat at the startled, slightly lost eyes that turn up to meet his, but he takes the Lady's order regardless.

"I hope you've found adequate shelter." she says, turning her attention back to Kevin, "There wasn't always such a wealth of places to choose from..."

[heart_beatings]

She's as skittish as he is, isn't she? Kevin isn't sure whether that makes him feel better or not. He's still not entirely convinced that she isn't insane -- although, everyone here is, from what he's seen so far.

"I have a place to stay," is all he says. That place is the mansion, still. He would dearly love to be away from it, but he doesn't quite trust the money it leaves him, and it seems wrong to try and find employment here when his job is supposed to be looking after Emily Sinclair.

[smallkindnesses.livejournal.com]

She nods, a little of the worry that had shadowed her gaze lifting. "I'm glad. Sometimes dark things wander these streets..."

She had been one of them, for a time.

She continues to study him discreetly from behind the rosegold veil of her hair, still worrying about how much he might have discovered... though surely it couldn't have been much, otherwise he wouldn't be sulking at a bakery.

"Have you... met any of your other selves..?" she asks softly.

[heart_beatings]

"I -- no, I've...been avoiding them." It's too much, at the moment. "I don't really want to know. This place is..."

It's creepy, is what it is. He hasn't found a single person here he knows yet, but people seem to recognize him easily enough. Even this woman speaks to him as though she's known him for years, and he only just learned her name.

He'd dig in to his croissant to stall for time in the conversation, but now that the noblewoman is waiting for her own food, it's more polite to wait. Kevin isn't really sure why he cares.

[smallkindnesses.livejournal.com]

"Unsettling." she finished for him quietly, understanding only too well.

She sits quietly for a moment, as the waiter places a cup of jasmine tea and a scone in front of her.

"Sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss..." she murmurs--almost more to herself--as her fingers settle against the tea cup, absorbing the warmth through the china.

[heart_beatings]

With no idea what to say, Kevin begins to pick idly at his croissant, mostly for something to do with his hands. They're a little chapped. It wasn't so cold at home, yet, and he's refused to take anything but the cloak and some food from the mansion, so he's without gloves.

Still, they're the same hands his elder counterparts have, attached to a completely different person. He hasn't gotten close enough to any of the Breaks to notice such a thing, and perhaps he wouldn't even if he did meet one properly. Still.

"...most haven't even heard of the Sinclairs, here," he admits at last. Not anyone he's spoken to, anyway.

[smallkindnesses.livejournal.com]

Shelly notices his hands--she's always admired those hands. Dexterous, strong, deceptive in their delicacy. Had she still lived in the Mansion, she would have gone on a search for gloves on his behalf. Perhaps she can find a pair, by the next time she sees him...

She remembers the way he'd ignored physical discomforts, when he'd first come to them, the way they'd been blotted out by the deeper discomforts that weighed upon his soul. She wonders, idly, whether this is the way it had begun, or whether the tendency had always been there...

"They've... been gone for a very long time, here..." she says softly, almost apologetically. As hard as things have been, for him, they will get harder, the more he finds out...

[heart_beatings]

"Entirely?" he asks softly, and he meets the noblewoman's eyes even though he knows her answer isn't going to be at all what he wants to hear. She's already said that in his own future, he'll come to stay with her family instead, and it's inconceivable that this should happen so long as there are Sinclairs to be protected.

He still holds a sliver of hope, though. Perhaps Emily ultimately finds safety and security in some place where she doesn't need him. Or perhaps she finds better protectors and he's dismissed from her employ -- given the way he failed the rest of her family, it's only what Kevin deserves, and far better than the alternative.

[smallkindnesses.livejournal.com]

The apology spreads to her gaze, deepening to a sympathetic grief.

"Entirely." she replies, just as softly.

Her eyes slide down to take in the tea and scone. She wasn't really hungry, but she had known he would be unlikely to finish his, if she didn't order something, just as he'd been unable to sit when she stood.

"I'm so sorry, my dear."

[bittyliam]

It's a little bakery, with only a few tables, and people who are complete strangers are sitting at all of them. Bitty at least recognizes this person, sort of.

He's carrying a plate of strawberry tarts and a cup of tea.

"Can I sit here, Mister?"

Then he tilts his head. Long hair, two eyes... Hm.

"Are you a Mister Kevin or a Mister Break?"

[heart_beatings]

...why is there a child talking to him now?

"I suppose," he says, but not without a glance around for free tables. There aren't any, so he sits back, resigned. After a moment, he adds, "It's Kevin."

He's seen a few of those Break fellows flouncing about and...Kevin really doesn't want to know.

[bittyliam]

Liam puts the cup and plate on the table before climbing up on the chair.

"Oh. I met two Kevins. One is really little, like me. The other one only has one eye."

He has a sip of tea and lets out a contented sigh. It is, after all, cold outside.

"Are you new?"

[heart_beatings]

And out of all the children he could have wound up sitting with, he gets a chatty one. Naturally. Kevin contemplates whether this is better or worse than the Hat-monster or that loud kid.

Probably somewhere in between. At least he can beat up the loud kid and not feel guilty about it.

"Yes," he says. He doesn't plan to elaborate, hoping to discourage conversation, but then he realizes the boy might take it upon himself to explain things. So he adds, "More or less."

[bittyliam]

"So you know this is a magic place?"

He has a bite of his tart, and is quite happy with the flavor.

"I've been here for six months! Did you know the town is new? It used to just be the Mansion."

[heart_beatings]

"Yes and no."

The boy has him eating breakfast, at least; this is obviously the right time to start shoving croissant into his face. Probably he should be grateful for a normal annoyance, for once. Instead he just misses Emily's chatter. She's barely said a word to anyone since --

No. Best not to think about it.

[bittyliam]

The child finally notices the sulking radiating from Kevin and blinks at him.

"Are you okay, Mister Kevin?"

[heart_beatings]

"I'm fine. A little trouble adjusting, is all."

He's lying through his teeth, of course, but though he could probably use someone to talk to about the bigger problems, it isn't going to be a child he just met. You don't tell children about massacres.

Quickly, he shreds the croissant, intent on getting out of there and leaving the table to the boy.

[bittyliam]

"Lots of people do."

He doesn't particularly understand it, himself. Considering, he settled in rather quickly.

"But you look sad. Are you sad, Mister Kevin?"

The child has another bite of tart, watching Kevin tear apart the croissant.

[heart_beatings]

"I told you, I'm fine."

If his tone isn't enough of a warning to lay off, the stern look as Kevin finally bothers to meet the boy's eyes ought to be.

[bittyliam]

The look gets a blink.

"Oh. You're grumpy."

It is the morning, and some people are grumpy in the morning, so Liam just decides to concentrate on his tart and tea. Because, really, he doesn't want to be scolded just for talking to someone.

[heart_beatings]

He catches the muttered comment and supplies helpfully, "No one ever said you had to talk to me."

The knight moves to swig his own tea, and makes a face at it when he does. He's let it steep far too long. It's gone bitter on him.