|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 24, 2011 18:05:31 GMT -8
Time: Day 4, Late Afternoon/Early Evening Weather: Cloudy, but rainless Warnings: Getting ready for a night out at the Galaxy of Terror, a fancy dress Characters: Charlotte Jacobs, David Young Henning [CLOSED] It had taken a ridiculous amount of rummaging around for her to find something she felt was appropriate for the ( don’t think date) night out at the Galaxy of Terror. She hadn’t had a reason to dress up in a very long time... so she figured she might as well do it up right. The first order of business after washing her hands and finding all the necessary bits for getting changed had been a hot shower, and scrubbing Hyde’s blood off of her and out of her hair. The next order of business, after wrapping her towel tightly around her and hopping out of the shower (she made absolutely certain that she had everything she needed in the bathroom before she did anything) was to try and do... SOMEthing with said hair. She was tempted to just leave it down. But... she sort of wanted to do something more with it. Since the dress that had waited patiently in a garment bag was 1940’s era in appearance, she figured she might as well stick with the theme. Charlotte carefully pinned her hair up at the base of her neck in a loose bun, and then began the arduous process of finger waves. After the pantyhose and garter belt (and perfume, her favourite lilac-y berry scent; after smelling like smoke and blood earlier she wanted to smell nice, damn it) came the heels. Then she was removing the silky dress from the garment bag hanging on the back of the bathroom door and sliding into it. Twisting to zip it up was an experience, and she was forcefully reminded to pop a couple Advil before going out. Charlotte studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her dress was sleeveless and a brilliant shade of cerulean. It had a low neckline, a slit in the front and fit her perfectly. It was pretty (made her FEEL pretty), and one of her favourite dresses in her admittedly small number of evening dresses. It showed more of her tattoo than she had shown to anyone, save David, of course. She kept smoothing the front of it like it was wrinkly or cockeyed. She was nervous. Why was she nervous? Because you want to look nice for your first date, her subconscious chimed in. She ignored it, even though it was right. She gingerly touched her neck. It didn’t hurt, currently, which was nice. But she was going to have some major bruises in a day or two. And there was the faint hint of burns marring the skin. Not horribly noticeable... unless someone was scrutinizing the hell out of her neck or something. Which would just be weird. Of course, considering the number of observant people that seemed to be in Greenvale... Maybe I should wear a scarf, she mused silently. Or a necklace. A necklace was a little bit more discreet... so necklace it was. She had a choker (and what an ironic choice for jewellery in light of what happened at the Clock Tower) that might work. A touch of red lipstick, and it was time. She took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, stepping out to rejoin David, who had been left to his own devices while she was getting ready. “Sorry it took me so long,” she said, looking down and nervously smoothing the front of her dress again. Then she went over to her small jewellery chest and began rifling through until she found the black lace choker with the blue leaf-shaped pendant. Fastening it carefully around her neck, she turned back to David, smiling shyly. “I... didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” That hadn’t been what she had intended to say at first; she wasn’t actually sure what she had intended to say. “You probably could have cleaned up and made it back here in the time it took me...”
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Jan 25, 2011 19:42:26 GMT -8
Henning stood up from his chair, still holding the dead phone reciever that he'd been in the process of putting back on the hook. He was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open as Charlotte came into the room, still bustling around as if there was some way she could add to what was already present. Suddenly he was very conscious of his rumpled, foul-smelling suit and the ashen substance still clinging to his skin. He put the phone down, not taking his eyes off her, and said with a measure of awe in his voice: "Charlotte, you look stunning. I could go out tonight exactly as I am, and nobody would even notice me with you on my arm." He wanted to just stand there and drink the sight of her in, let her presence fill him, wash away the trials of the last few days in a burst of sunlight... He kept his arms folded so as to resist reaching out and gathering her to himself, which would surely undo all it must have taken to create her current radiant appearance. "Don't worry about taking your time; if this was the result, then it was definitely worth it. Besides, we promised not to leave each other alone... Unfortunately, after seeing you like this, I have no idea what I'm going to wear. All I have are my work clothes, and the only other person I thought might be able to help me out is apparently the Lady Gaga of suits and ties." His expression was a mixture of apology and amused irritation at the memory of the phone call, parts of which even now seemed too surreal to have actually happened. |
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 25, 2011 21:58:45 GMT -8
It was his tone, as much as his words that made Charlotte blush. And the way he was looking at her... made the butterflies in her stomach flutter wildly. Maybe... maybe she’d done all right with the getting dressed up for their first date. First date... The thought (now that she’d allowed herself to think it) made her smile; it also made her horribly nervous... but mostly it made her smile.
She crossed the space between them and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“I wouldn’t notice anyone but you,” she told him quietly. It sounded vaguely cheesy... but it was the truth. Her realisation at the library earlier lingered at the back of her mind. Unable to put it into words... not sure if she should... Charlotte kissed him again, taking his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers.
“I think you look wonderful whatever you wear.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words. Lady Gaga of suits and ties?? I have to admit... I kind of want to see the suits, with that description.
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Jan 29, 2011 8:51:17 GMT -8
[Mild time/space jump.]In the shower back in his own unit, with Charlotte waiting in the bedroom, Henning could almost feel the day's tribulations sloughing off him along with the layers of ashen grime now spiraling down the drain. Out of sight, out of mind. He sighed deeply, not moving, just letting the hot water pour over his head. Water was fine when it was indoors and under control; it was out there, with the clouds threatening to burst at any second, that the fear came back. The fear of losing that control. It was such a primitive instinct... But today's modern man had not even the solace of superstition to justify his impotency in the face of nature. It annoyed him to think something as ubiquitous and fundamental as a natural element had the power to resurrect such irrational emotions. He thought briefly of the conversation he'd had with Ebenezer Dingo yesterday; about the past, and the menace that was Greenvale. Had that been superstition, as well? But the things Henning had seen in this town were anything but natural... He wondered what Charlotte would think when she discovered the charred remains of the stuffed nutria that had been bequeathed him by the eccentric taxidermist. He'd left it in plain sight on the desk, after all... Moving slightly faster now, Henning grabbed the shampoo bottle. He suddenly couldn't wait to get out of the hotel.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 29, 2011 14:45:10 GMT -8
Charlotte wandered slowly around David’s room, the sound of water running a soothing noise in the background. She was behaving herself and not poking into things, but she was too nervous to simply sit still. She picked up one of his ties and began fiddling with it, winding and unwinding it around her hand. She paused by the window, pulling back the curtains and looking outside for a moment, before returning to the pacing at hand.
She drew to a stop in front of his desk, head tilted slightly. What the hell? There was... SOMEthing sitting on its wooden surface. It looked like the charred remains of, well, something. There wasn't a better word to describe it. She leaned down and carefully, gently poked it with a finger.
“That’s... different,” she murmured. I wonder where David picked this up?
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Jan 29, 2011 21:38:45 GMT -8
"Ahh, crap."
Henning couldn't remember why he had moved all of the large towels into the bedroom... He was sure there had been a good reason. He stopped blindly flailing with one arm and poked his head around the shower curtain, confirming that the towels were in fact absent from the bathroom, and were probably in a neat stack next to the nutria. He paused, then yelled above the hiss of running water:
"Charlotte!! Are there any towels out there? I, uh... Seem to have misplaced them."
At the same time, he was wracking his brains for a possible reason as to why he had done such a thing, in case she asked. He had the feeling it was for something stupid and paranoid, like blocking the light coming from under the door so nobody would know he was in the room. He'd done that a few times, most notably in a skeezy apartment unit in the middle of Harlem three years ago on a stakeout, but he couldn't believe his habits were so deeply ingrained that he could go through the motions without remembering whether he'd done so. Not to mention letting them affect normal social routines, like going out on a... with a friend. A very close friend.
He very quietly let his head bump against the tiled wall as he waited for Charlotte's response.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 29, 2011 22:14:21 GMT -8
Charlotte glanced away from the whatever-it-was sitting on the desk when she heard David’s faint call for a towel. It didn’t take her long to find them, as they were sitting in a large, fluffy pile near the thing.
“Found them,” she called, picking up a couple (just in case he needed or wanted a second one for his hair. She wasn’t exactly familiar with his shower habits, after all). She was standing at the bathroom door when the realisation hit her. She was going to have to go into the bathroom to give him his towels. While he was in the shower. Oh boy. Her subconscious chimed in cheekily with You should have just invited him to join you. She pressed her head against the door for a moment, blushing. The thought had occurred to her... but she had firmly pushed it from her mind and gotten into the shower alone.
“Um... I’m coming in,” she announced, before putting a hand on the doorknob and slowly opening the door. Eyes carefully averted and a lopsided, amused smile on her face, Charlotte closed the door behind her (as to not let out the warm air his shower had created) and made her way closer to the shower. Focused intently on the floor tiles (and occasionally on the wall), she held out the towels. “Here.”
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Jan 31, 2011 8:06:40 GMT -8
Henning shut off the water and groped blindly around the edge of the shower curtain, felt his fingertips touch down on soft, fluffy towel. He had it in his grasp and was just in the process of tying it around his waist (Charlotte's shadow on the other side of the thin barrier separating them was distracting, and it was taking him longer than it would have normally) when he heard a hissing noise, followed by a soft pop. It sounded like it was coming from the bedroom. Holding the towel around himself, Henning peeked out from behind the curtain.
"What was that?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 31, 2011 12:55:16 GMT -8
Charlotte felt more than saw David move, and one of the towels disappeared from her hand. She set the other one on the counter. The water shut off, and she heard the quiet sounds of someone getting ready to step out of the shower. She closed her eyes and tried not to consider offering to help him with the towel. It was surprisingly difficult.
That was when she heard the hissing sound, followed by a soft pop. She pivoted towards the bathroom door, taking a half-step forward. What the hell was that? It came from the bedroom, that much was certain. She should go out, find out what was the cause... but after everything that had happened there was a part of her that was more than a little scared that she'd open the bathroom door to find flames and smoke.
Turning back towards the shower she noticed David peeking around the curtain.
“I... have NO idea.”
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Feb 2, 2011 6:45:08 GMT -8
Holding the towel around his waist with one hand, Henning hurriedly stepped out of the shower and tried not to brush against Charlotte in the limited space. He put one hand on the doorknob and tried not to think about the fact that his gun was in the other room, along with his clothes, and peered out. The smell hit him first, then the sight of flickering flames just starting to lick at the curtains from the blackened mass sitting on his desk. Henning ran out into the bedroom and stared at it wildly, unmindful of the water he was dripping all over the floor.
Oh my god! That bastard got the nutria! was his first irrational thought. Without further hesitation, he rushed over and instinctively started beating out the flames with the first thing he could get his hands on- the towel that had formerly been wrapped around his waist. So intent was he on this task that he'd quite forgotten about Charlotte, and part of him was already half-wondering whether the Deer Yard had failed any recent fire safety inspections by not having any alarms installed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Feb 2, 2011 13:45:29 GMT -8
She instinctively followed David out into the other room, whether because of safety in numbers, or because of her previous decision to try and protect him it was unclear. Charlotte had been right about her worries, as it turned out. There was indeed fire waiting on the other side of the bathroom door. Something had happened to the whatever-it-was sitting on the desk, and flames had started to lick at the curtains. She fought down the spike of fear that the smell of smoke sent thrumming through her veins, and took a few steps forward.
She had the half-thought of running to find a fire extinguisher... and then David began trying to beat out the flames with the first thing he had on hand... which was the towel that had been previously wrapped around his waist (and that half-thought fizzled out). She eeped softly, blushed, and tried not to admire the view too much.
“I... um... you...” she stammered, slightly at a loss for words. Way to articulate. Apparently surprise!naked!David temporarily took away her ability to form complete sentences. It kind of amused her, actually. Absently she wondered if she would do the same to him, and considered trying to find out after their night out at the Galaxy of Terror.
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Feb 3, 2011 19:18:28 GMT -8
Fortunately the flames had been smothered quickly, and there didn't seem to be even a trace of supernatural intervention worth noting... Simply the unstable combustion of a taxidermist's handiwork. Henning sighed with relief... then realized his mistake a split second before he heard Charlotte stammering from the bathroom door. At the same time, the room suddenly felt much draftier.
There was a stoic pause. He stood with his head down, still holding the towel over the remains of the remains of the nutria, and abruptly raised one hand in Charlotte's direction without looking up.
"Eyes! Avert them, please!"
Then he turned and, managing not to rush, grabbed a nearby pillow off the bed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Feb 3, 2011 19:33:43 GMT -8
Charlotte averted her eyes as soon as he asked, focusing intently on the carpeting. Their evening had been interesting... and they hadn’t even made it out the door of the hotel yet. She found herself wondering what was in store for the rest of it. Maybe we should just stay in... Then again, part of his hotel room had just caught on fire, albeit temporarily. At least the fire was out. So that was something.
“Sorry,” she told him softly. She heard him moving towards the bed. She wasn’t entirely certain what she was apologising for, but for now she was going with the whole admiring his naked form. Or something. She leaned against the wall by the bathroom, fingertips tapping an odd rhythm on its surface.
|
|
|
|
Post by David Young Henning on Feb 3, 2011 21:26:03 GMT -8
After some prolonged, yet mercifully disaster-free fumbling another towel out of the bathroom without further exposure, Henning managed to get himself dry and into pants and a shirt. He stood, buttoning buttons and looking semi-critically at a long line of identical ties laid out in a perfect row on the bed. In the background, the nutria smoldered nastily under the scorched towel.
"I didn't mean to be so abrupt," Henning apologized, accidentally missing a button and not noticing. "I was just taken off guard, that's all... It wasn't that alarming, in retrospect. We're both adults, right? After what we've been through, a little slip like that should be nothing... And besides... Not anything either of us haven't seen before... Probably! I mean, I know I have, but..."
His earlier composure was beginning to deflate halfheartedly into the shameful quicksands of embarrassment. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted it.
"I don't mean to rush you, Charlotte, but we should probably get out of here soon. I think the fumes coming out of that thing might be toxic."
|
|
|
|
Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Feb 3, 2011 21:48:50 GMT -8
Charlotte couldn’t help the amused laughed that bubbled up. He really was adorable. And very attractive sans clothing, her subconscious chimed in gleefully. She ignored it.
“It’s okay. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” As he started to ramble, she closed the space between them. Smiling fondly, she kissed him gently. “You’re right. We’re both adults. It’s not anything we haven’t seen before. It was just... distracting. I had already found myself wanting to remove your towel myself.” Her smile deepened. “Maybe not with my teeth, but...” She kissed him again. Then, noticing his missed button and not even thinking, she quickly and nimbly fixed it. When she realised what she’d done, she dropped her hands and blushed again. “Sorry,” she repeated. We should definitely go...
“We should head out, then. Let the fumes dissipate.” She took one of his hands in hers. "Shall we?"
|
|
A Deadly Premonition fansite