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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 6, 2010 17:43:20 GMT -8
Of course Mister Stewart knew things that most didn't...and by virtue of that, he did try to warn them all. Beware the rain, he always tried to insist. There are things at work that none understand - beware the rain, beware the fog. He was, of course, the only one that could see the fog, it seemed...no one would listen.
Bianca's small assent to his words were only a small victory - he knew she still wouldn't understand. No one would, he imagined, until it was too late...and by then, there would be no one left to listen to him at all. Except, perhaps, his aide...but even then, he was starting to wonder - no. He banished the thoughts with a slight shake of his head, as if shaking off some weariness.
Michael, meanwhile, straightened back up once he was done inspecting the treat, nodding his head a little. "I suppose my issue is that I don't have the time - too many things to do in the day. Perhaps that's what separates you and I - you have a little more time to experiment and play." It was true - he was a busy young man. Always cleaning this, caring for that, corresponding with people there, doing some of the financal legwork there, interpreting for Mister Stewart there...he didn't dislike his station, not at all - but it didn't leave him a lot of time for leisure. It was really too much work for any one person.
"I did craft a new recipe for cinnamon buns - perhaps sometime you would like to try one?" At least this was a topic he enjoyed - the focus wasn't on himself, but on an interest. He preferred it this way. Keep conversations light. Don't speak too much about oneself.
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Bianca White
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Post by Bianca White on Dec 6, 2010 17:56:21 GMT -8
"Mille-feuille... I believe it literally means a thousand sheets in French. That refers to the layers of puff pastry you know," explained Bianca. That was one thing about the young pastry chef. She wasn't afraid to show off her love of food and her knowledge of it. Food was a cultural thing, shared by all. She just exemplified that principle a bit more than others.
"Cinnamon buns? It just so happens I was thinking about cinnamon a few minutes ago," she said with a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.
"And if it's anything made by you of course I'll try it."
Bianca paused for a moment; she was reconsidering her words.
"Whenever you're up to it of course. Just tell me when you're good and ready any time. I don't want to fill your plate with anything unnecessary."
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 6, 2010 19:27:38 GMT -8
"I remember reading about it - don't they call it a Napoleon here? Since I had last checked, it has been a bit...I suppose the details slipped my mind, I fear." He was no slouch himself when it came to knowledge of food - he liked to bake, but honestly, he was better at general cooking. Baking was complex, and there was so much to it, even someone like him was taking time to learn it all. He was still only young yet, despite the way he behaved running contrary.
And then there she was, backpedaling a bit from her comment - it bothered him a little, though why he couldn't say. Perhaps he was just irritable today - being oversensitive due to his discomfort - but... 'Whenever you're up to it.' He was just fine, he wanted to remind her, temper surging. Managing to shake himself from these thoughts (no need to ruin a nice tea - Mister Stewart will only worry more if I do), he shook his head, wrapping his hands around his teacup. A bandage peeked out from beneath his sleeve, winding around his wrist - it was still sore from his fall yesterday, and he felt he still needed it braced.
"It's really no trouble, I'll have you know - I'll fetch you one of today's batch when you go." He tried to smile, the corners of his mouth upturning in a flimsy sort of expression.
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Bianca White
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Post by Bianca White on Dec 6, 2010 19:48:28 GMT -8
Hm. Better not egg him on about how he's feeling...
"I would like that very much Michael. Thank you for being so considerate," Bianca said with much sincerity.
She took another sip of tea, slowly so she could savor the taste. It was warm and perfectly pleasant. Bianca couldn't ask for more.
"Oh, Mister Stewart? If you don't mind me asking, I just met an individual I'm not familiar with. His name is... Lasseter...? Ah, Atticus Lasseter. He's a lawyer apparently. I chatted with him a bit before heading on over here. He told me that there's been a few people here and there that have moved in somewhat recently..."
Placing the cup and saucer on her lap, Bianca continued, with a genuinely curious tone.
"I'm not one to judge strangers, but with the recent events... Poor Anna. It sorta makes me wonder why people would flock here. Again though, that's just me sounding like I'm exaggerating." She sighed and took one more sip of tea.
"Well, that's what I get for living alone I guess. I begin to have unnecessary worries."
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 7, 2010 2:42:44 GMT -8
In response, Michael gave a slight inclination of his head, sipping from his own tea with his usual grace and poise. He was glad that she had recoiled from poking about his condition - he was even more glad that she was enjoying the tea, proud of his work.
Then she was addressing Mister Stewart - and the older man listened to her carefully, hands folded neatly together as he thought. Atticus Lasseter, hm? His hand went to his little console, typing away, looking up files. Yes, he had moved into town some time ago. They had not yet met, but his records were...interesting. He would have to find this boy himself one of these days.
That aside, he gave a nod in response to her comments about people flocking here after the murder. He gestured for Michael, who leaned in automatically. "Miss Bianca White. It is strange that people are coming here now...at a time when many are gripped with sorrow. You are right to be cautious and worried about the town...we do not know, after all, what they may bring for tomorrow. So says Mister Stewart."
Michael sipped from his tea again, rather calm and placid. Mister Stewart eyed him. I'm going to have to talk to him about Anna soon. He hides it well, but this can't be easy on him. He and Anna spoke so often...he must be upset.
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Bianca White
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Just wanna be good to the people who raised me
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Post by Bianca White on Dec 7, 2010 12:40:28 GMT -8
After Michael answered for Mister Stewart, Bianca fell silent again. As talkative as she could be when the right buttons were pushed, it still didn't change the fact that she actually was more quiet than some people gave her credit for. She mulled over Mister Stewart's response. What will tomorrow bring she wondered?
In light of the death of Anna Graham, Bianca began to slowly realize that life wouldn't be the same in Greenvale. It wouldn't be the lovely and peaceful home she knew as a child, it wasn't even safe anymore if the murderer was still stalking about. Was it ever safe to begin with though? And was the town actually changing or was it her? Perhaps both. She sighed, her cheerful demeanor lessening noticeably.
"... I wonder if... After everything is solved if I'll still be able to have tea like this with you and Michael. Things just don't feel right anymore after what happened, yet we all go on regardless." Bianca smiled apologetically at the two men.
"I should apologize. I feel like I'm saying my thoughts aloud and I shouldn't be so gloomy huh? It's not like me at all."
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 8, 2010 2:50:33 GMT -8
The sound of the rain outside filled the silence - it made the room seem melancholy, reflecting the state of its inhabitants. While Bianca was thinking things over, the two men were lost in their own thoughts, too. Michael was swirling the tea around his teacup in a repetitive motion, seeming to zone out a little as he watched it...and Mister Stewart kept looking over towards him in an uneasy fashion. Thoughts were forming in either man's mind that they would rather not think about - and so they were both rather relieved when Bianca spoke.
Leaning over, the younger man relayed another message, his tone grave.
"Miss Bianca White. There is nothing wrong with speaking your mind...it would be worse if you, like so many, were blind. So says Mister Stewart." These words were heavy-handed, even for the enigmatic older man...and the way Michael said them didn't help. There was something edging his tone that was never there before, even relaying things as dark as these...spite? Bitterness?
Anger?
Mister Stewart stared at him for a moment before Michael noticed he was looking - he started a little at himself, hands clenching around the teacup. Saying nothing, he silently rose to his feet, setting the cup down and - all at once - seeming to decide to rearrange the utensils on the table. I set this wrong. I know better than that - there's an extra fork at that setting - this saucer isn't quite clean enough -
The older man looked towards Bianca again, his posture a bit telling of his growing worry.
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Bianca White
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Post by Bianca White on Dec 8, 2010 10:45:30 GMT -8
Pursing her lips together, Bianca slowly set down her teacup and saucer on the table. Slightly glancing at Mister Stewart, her expression was also becoming more concerned. Cheering up Michael wasn't proving to be very easy.
He's more tired than usual. Michael never shows anything else but poise in front of others.
Reaching into her pocket, Bianca took out a small yellow notepad and a pen. She started writing down something carefully and then held the paper to Michael.
"Um... This is the recipe I use for making puff pastry from scratch. I thought you might like it."
Well, whether this is going to fail or succeed, Bianca thought, it was worth a shot.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 8, 2010 22:41:36 GMT -8
Either the younger man was oblivious to the eyes on him or he was ignoring them - he kept feverishly adjusting and readjusting the table, completely focused on his task. There, now the forks are sorted out...the soup spoon at that setting is upside-down, that's all wrong. I think, perhaps, I should just re-wash all the flatware at this table...the washer has been on the fritz. I should have that fixed. This tablecloth is filthy, too...perhaps a load of linens....
He was almost startled by Bianca's sudden offering - blinking, he took the paper, looking it over before turning his eyes to Bianca. It took him a moment to collect himself enough to speak, folding the paper and tucking it in his pocket. Instead of standing at attention, he started shuffling things again as he spoke.
"...Thank you, Bianca, I would indeed...I-" He stopped short as a stray movement knocked over the sugar dish, spilling a few cubes on the table - he winced at the uncharacteristically clumsy motion, cleaning them up in a hurry. "I'm sorry, I'm just - I'm rather tired - my sleep has...suffered with what has transpired." His cheeks burned, eyes downcast...he was embarrassed.
Mister Stewart gestured for him, and they seemed to have a soft conversation, whispering to each other in low tones.
...Maybe there was a reason they never invited anyone over while it was raining?
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Bianca White
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Post by Bianca White on Dec 8, 2010 22:52:23 GMT -8
Bianca couldn't find the words to reply back to Michael. She wasn't sure if she should try to assure him. He didn't seem like he would take anything resembling a bit like pity well, but then what else could she say? She merely kept her mouth shut as Mister Stewart and Michael spoke together in hushed voices.
I wonder if I caused more trouble than I thought by coming here...
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 8, 2010 23:02:24 GMT -8
After a moment of discussion, Michael straightened...then, bowing his head a little bit in Bianca's direction, he shuffled out of the room and towards what must be the kitchen, cheeks reddening all the while and movements stiff.
Mister Stewart watched him leave, then looked towards Bianca, shaking his head a little. Gently, he gestured towards her notepad and pen, then towards himself. Of course, of course he wouldn't speak aloud...but that didn't mean he couldn't say anything, as unusual as it was.
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Bianca White
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Post by Bianca White on Dec 8, 2010 23:05:24 GMT -8
Poor Michael. By now it was difficult not to feel sympathy for him. Bianca watched the young attendant as he exited the room and could only wonder what on earth was plaguing him to act in such a strange way. After he left, it took a second for her to register Mister Stewart's gestures. But then Bianca nodded and slid the notepad and pen for the elder man to use.
"Michael... He's not doing so well in this weather isn't he? I've never seen him like that before."
There was a pause before she continued.
"... Is it my fault? I shouldn't have stayed for too long right?"
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 9, 2010 1:10:01 GMT -8
There was a long moment of quiet as Mister Stewart took the pen and paper, scribbling something down as he listened to Bianca's musings. He paused only for a moment when she asked if the strange behavior was her doing...but then just shook his head and continued writing. After a few quiet moments, he slid the notepad back towards her - upon it was a note, written in fine, sloping hand. I apologize for Michael. It is nothing you have done, I assure you. The rain weighs heavily upon his behavior...he is unwell, as you may have guessed. I am concerned that Anna's death has hurt him more than he is letting on; he spoke with the girl so often...the day before she was killed, in point of fact, they spoke. He has not said a word about the matter - not said a word about how he feels about it. Not even to me. He is often quiet, often private...but seldom is he this...closed.
So many new people have come into town as of late, like you mentioned...yesterday was a strange day, full of new faces and odd first impressions. He is anxious...and so am I. The rain has always brought poor tidings to this town...and now, things are changing. The town is changing. Caution is important, Bianca, now more than ever...lest more should meet the same fate as Anna.
Your coming here was my request. I had hoped that, perhaps, bringing a familiar face to the mansion might have eased his mood. He has been acting so strangely for the last couple of days...I am concerned. I fear that he will run himself into the ground at the rate he is going.
I am quite sorry if this visit was at all unpleasant. I thank you for coming here, Bianca, and I hope that you will take my warnings to heart.
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Bianca White
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Post by Bianca White on Dec 9, 2010 15:00:08 GMT -8
Her eyes skimmed over Mister Stewart's message and her heart skipped a beat when she read the sentence about Anna.
Lest more should meet the same fate.
"More... You mean?" Bianca looked at Mister Stewart even more worriedly. She cast down her eyes and then shook her head. It wasn't any use reiterating what the elder man was already implying. Of course it a murder might happen again. For years, Bianca only knew of quiet times in Greenvale. Anna Graham's murder shattered that illusion. The next victim could be anyone.
It could be me.
"I'll be careful Mister Stewart. And I should thank you for allowing me to visit. I know you're usually a private person, but it was kind of you and Michael to accomdate me."
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 9, 2010 15:21:12 GMT -8
Mister Stewart just gave a little nod of the head in response, folding his hands in front of him. He knew that what he had said was harsh...but it was true. Whether she would ultimately listen or not was her own decision - all he could do was hope that she might heed his warnings. She was reasonable...as least, he thought she was.
It wasn't long before Michael came walking back into the room, eyes blank and back too-straight as he moved back towards the table carring a little paper bag. He settled this down on the table within arm's reach of Bianca, along with it the payment for the pastries and a generous tip. Strangely, he wouldn't look straight at either of the other people in the room...he just sat back down, taking up his teacup again in silence and sipping at it. Trying desperately to save face somewhat? Or something else?
"...In the bag is the bun for you to try," he mumbled (since when did he mumble?) after a long moment, eyes still on the table. "As well as the recipe I used to make it. I hope it's something you will enjoy...I'm sure it would be better if you had baked it." There was a faint clattering sound - his hands were shaking, rattling the teacup he was holding against its saucer.
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