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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 30, 2010 3:58:31 GMT -8
The room was a bit of a shock compared to the rest of the mansion - the room was wallpapered in similar ways, the build the same...but there were few decorations in here. Instead, there were a number of monitors, all showing different kinds of readouts - most unintelligible to the layman. There were PC towers here and there, devices of varying types, all of them looking quite advanced and new in comparison to the antiquity of the building they were housed in...but somehow, none of it was surprising in light of who owned them. And seated in the center of it all was Mister Stewart himself, his head in his hands. When Charlotte entered, his gaze snapped up, expecting to see Michael standing there...but instead finding the girl. Quizzically, he turned his chair about to address her (of course, of course he would have more than one wheelchair), confusion canting his head to one side. He seemed, perhaps, a bit crestfallen, sluggish - as if he had received some bad news. In light of the setting, he didn't need a pen and paper - his fingers moved swiftly at his little keypad, and one of the monitors overhead switched views to a document, his typing appearing in real time. Charlotte? What are you doing in here?
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 30, 2010 4:15:15 GMT -8
He’s here. Relief washed over her. He’s here. And he seemed to be fine... though a bit crestfallen, or bothered by something. But not in any danger. Safe as houses, even. Had he been in any danger to begin with? Or had he always been in this room? Obviously he had no idea what had been going on in the halls of his mansion. It was seeming more and more that it had all been purely to fuck with her.
Everything drained out of her; the anger, the worry, the relief... leaving behind a simple bone-deep exhaustion. Charlotte sort of... folded to the ground, sliding down the wall by the door. Laughing wearily, she studied Mister Stewart with the gaze of someone who had been to hell and back... only to find themselves the butt of some horrible cosmic joke.
“Following a trail of breadcrumbs and chasing phantasms. After a lovely little trip down the rabbit hole.”
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 30, 2010 15:29:49 GMT -8
Mister Stewart gazed back at her with concern, eyes growing worried and soft behind his mask. There was a long moment of quiet, the silence broken only by the beeping and whirring of the monitors...before he reached up towards his throat, fidding with something around one of the metallic implants there.
There was a momentary whirring and a few quick keystrokes...and then there was a voice, hoarse but amplified mechanically.
"...I am sorry. He was here, wasn't he?" He gestured towards an empty chair nearby, offering it to her. "Did he pursue you here?"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 30, 2010 15:48:26 GMT -8
Charlotte sighed softly, trying to give Mister Stewart a smile. It was lopsided, and more almost a smile than an actual one, but it flickered across her face for a moment regardless. His real voice. The fact that he was actually speaking directly to her, something he didn't seem to do to anyone save Michael, surprised her. He offered her a chair... but she didn’t have the energy to move just yet. Maybe in a bit. She rested her arms on her knees... and blinked.
“Oh...” she breathed distractedly, almost to herself. Her fingertips were bleeding. The tiny, sharp iron shavings in that stupid cake must have cut her when she broke it apart. She just hadn’t noticed, being a little... preoccupied at the time. Had she been bleeding all this time? From the blood staining the gauze on her fingers and hands... it would appear to be a ‘yes’. If I’ve been bleeding this long... it can wait a few more minutes. Charlotte returned her attention to Mister Stewart.
“It’s okay. Yes... he was. But it’s more than that. He LED me here. Left a puzzle piece for me at the graveyard. Contritus spelled out in matchsticks. Had to climb on a statue to see it properly.” She laughed again, more wryly and self-deprecating this time. Still sounded tired, though. “I was... worried, once I realized what it meant. I... may have thrown a metaphorical gauntlet at him. Sort of hoping to piss him off enough that he would leave you alone.”
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 31, 2010 18:05:13 GMT -8
It was, in fact, quite rare that he would use his real voice to speak to anyone but Michael...but after what she had just been through, he felt that she had more than proven herself trustworthy. He regarded what she had to say with quiet nods, actually rather touched. She had put herself through all this for his sake. To try and save him...protect him from something that had hurt her already.
Part of him was growing quite uneasy now, though...behind his mask, his eyes were troubled. She'd gone through all this...and he wasn't sure if he could tell her the reasons why. For now, he kept his tone level, concerned - he offered her a handkerchief for the blood.
"...It sounds to me as if he were toying with you. I thank you for coming all this way for an old man like me...I hope...he didn't hurt you?" He gestured to her hand. "But I suppose that my hope is...rather too late, isn't it?"
His voice was heavy with some emotion he was leaving otherwise unexpressed, however...some remorse. He had looked quite upset when she had walked in...there was something going unsaid as of yet. "...How...did you find your way into my office?"
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 31, 2010 18:28:59 GMT -8
Charlotte hissed in pain as she awkwardly levered herself to her feet. She had tried to avoid getting blood on things... but she left partial handprint on the wall she used to help herself up. Taking the handkerchief, she nodded her thanks, before dropping a bit bonelessly into the chair he had indicated previously.
There was something she was missing, she knew it... but she couldn’t be bothered to figure it out at the moment. It wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“I know he was.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t just... leave you to his mercy. Even the possibility of it.” She hadn’t considered it. Not for a second. “He didn’t. Not much, anyway. He enjoys his puzzles, and hid something in a cake with sharp metal bits. There was a bit of Alice in Wonderland theme this time. I do not look forward to encountering him again.” Something in her knew this was not the last time they would cross paths.
Charlotte sank back against the chair, and sighed.
“I nearly got myself stabbed by your aide. Afterwards he directed me here.”
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 31, 2010 20:30:55 GMT -8
He watched the girl get up to sit in the chair, listening to what she had to say. Alice in Wonderland. Of course. He was reading that last night.
His hand slid up to smooth out his hair between the straps of his gas mask, unwittingly displaying the same nervous habit as Michael sometimes did. This was all so much to process...so much. And then she was telling him that Michael had almost stabbed her.
"...Oh, dear. I...don't imagine that he took too well to the surprise of seeing you there. I...apologize if he misunderstood you. Likely he was alarmed at you coming without his presence or knowledge...."
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 31, 2010 20:53:57 GMT -8
Charlotte couldn’t help the bark of laughter at Mister Stewart’s starting words. SUCH an understatement.
“No... I don’t imagine the empty wheelchair helped things either. He thought I had hurt you, and was more than prepared to run me through. Somehow it didn’t surprise me at all that he uses a bloody sword.” She shook her head a little. “It’s all right. He didn’t.”
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 31, 2010 22:37:56 GMT -8
The laughter might have startled a more skittish person...but Mister Stewart knew Michael well enough to know why she was laughing. He chuckled softly himself, shoulders shaking.
"He is...protective of me, Charlotte. I know him well enough to know that, under ordinary circumstances, he would never harm you. He hasn't been himself, it's true...but he is still a reasonable young man." Another soft laugh, good-natured. "Also quite handy with a sword, it's true. He refuses to carry a gun. He's not a violent person, and he prefers speech to blows."
He tried not to think what he had just seen on the cameras. The way he had thrown the table over, the way he had slashed the teasets aside. That was Michael, but it wasn't Michael. It frightened him, that look in his eyes, the rage...the cigarette. The puzzle...of course, he would have had to set that up. Did he remember? Or did he set it up at all...? What if it was this...Smoking Man?
Mister Stewart coughed a bit, slightly overwhelmed.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Dec 31, 2010 22:52:44 GMT -8
Charlotte looked at him, tired and serious.
“Then I suppose I was extremely fortunate... as those weren’t ordinary circumstances in the slightest.” He hadn’t seen the look in Michael’s eyes. Hadn’t been there. Just... hadn’t seen. Again, something about that struck her as wrong, but she still couldn’t put her finger on it.
She really ought to be going, there was not much sense in remaining longer as Mister Stewart was obviously alive and well. But she was rather hard pressed to move at the moment. She could feel herself trembling slightly.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Dec 31, 2010 23:36:47 GMT -8
Mister Stewart held his tongue. He couldn't tell her. Not now.
He drew a long, deep breath before speaking, shaking his head a little. "...I tested the hair already. No results, I am afraid. It was a trick...toying with the both of us this time, it seems." He could tell that she was exhausted...he couldn't blame her.
"...You should get home, Charlotte. Rest. With any luck, he has finished with you for the time being. You have had a very difficult few days, from the looks of it. I will be here if you should need me again." His voice suggested that he was smiling beneath his mask...but his shoulders were tense. He was frightened.
Of course he was frightened.
When she left, he would be alone in the mansion with a young man he wasn't so sure he knew.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 1, 2011 0:04:12 GMT -8
Charlotte sighed. She hadn’t expected the tests to yield any answers... but she had hoped.
“Another dead end.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Scrubbing a hand through her hair she glanced back at Mister Stewart... and paused. His body language didn’t fit his voice. There was a smile in his voice... and fear in the tension of his shoulders. He was frightened. Why was he frightened? Her mind raced to figure out a reason to extend her visit a bit longer. It took her longer than usual, but something occurred to her; and it wouldn’t even be a lie.
She huffed a tired laugh, and held up a trembling hand.
“That might take me a bit. Not... exactly feeling steady enough to drive at the moment. I... hope you don’t mind.”
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jan 1, 2011 0:50:34 GMT -8
There was just a beat of hesitation - he itched to review the camera footage, to try and get a look at the Smoking Man himself, to check in on Michael again...but he couldn't very well just shoo the girl out. He nodded slowly.
"No...that's fine. Please, feel free, take the time you need. There is no need to rush." Even as he said this, there was...an odd terseness in his voice that suggested there was more on his mind. There was a moment of hesitation...before he finally asked, in spite of himself -
"...When you left Michael...how did he seem to you?" Worry was clear in his voice...more worry than an employer might carry for one of their employees. The way he had written about the boy earlier...and now this. There was something deeper there, clearly...yet another thing going unsaid.
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Post by Charlotte Jacobs on Jan 1, 2011 1:08:57 GMT -8
Charlotte tilted her head slightly, studying Mister Stewart thoughtfully. He wants me out of here... but why? Feeling there were undercurrents she was sadly not privy to knowing she sighed. That’s one hell of a question. She set out to answer as best she could.
“He seemed to no longer be thoroughly pissed off. Just... tired. Resigned, maybe? Or disappointed. Exasperated, too.”
Suddenly tired of the puzzles, of the games, of not getting straight answers and Mister Stewart just not telling her to bloody leave if he wanted her out, just fucking TIRED, she flashed him a lopsided smile. Time to go.
“Actually... I still need to check on Polly as you requested. And I'm supposed to meet David. I should go.” She stood, her body protesting. She glanced down at the handkerchief in her hand. Ah crap. “I’ll wash this and return it to you later.”
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jan 1, 2011 1:34:10 GMT -8
Tired. Everyone was getting so tired, it seemed. He was tired, too - he had been tired for years - but now he felt like he was dragging others down with him. He tented his fingers, leaning back in his wheelchair as he watched Charlotte rise. He was partly glad she was going...partly worried he was starting her into her own descent. Shaking these thoughts off, he gave a little nod.
"...Very well. Back out into the dining room, then past the division and straight down the large hallway will take you straight out." He shook his head over her comments on the handkerchief. "Don't worry about it. It's only a kerchief. Please, focus on getting back safely."
He paused, thinking for a moment, considering his words...before adding, very softly:
"...I am sorry. That you came all this way, only for all of this to happen.... For him to act the way he did. I...truly am sorry." He was apologizing for something else, too...something he couldn't say. Not yet.
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