![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indriSUMMARY: Giles and Ethan, the electric Kool-Aid funky Satan groove year, in the early seventies. Rated M. Spoilers to Band Candy. Acknowledgements and disclaimers.
60.
The first thing that Rupert thought of when he woke was the time. It was a Saturday, which meant he had work over lunchtime and the buses weren't very good. He was confused by the light, which looked nineish, but Ethan was awake and reading a book, which would be tenish. Where had he put his watch?
The second thing that Rupert thought of was Ethan's back. Ethan was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, so the covers had slipped down as far as his fourth vertebrae. He had nice skin and Rupert sometimes liked to press down heel of his hand and run along it to feel the bones and muscle underneath. Ethan hardly objected to this either.
The third thing he thought of that morning was about having sex, but then Ethan, without taking his eyes from the book, passed him his watch.
Nine-fifteen.
"You're awake early," Rupert said.
"It's a good book."
"I've got forty-five minutes," Rupert said, but then Ethan made him wait until he'd finished the chapter.
Afterwards, Rupert still had a little time before he had to get up. It was one of those mornings when it felt absolutely right that he should be waking up next to Ethan every day, lying on an old but clean mattress, amid piles of all sorts of odd books, looking up out the window at blue skies and waving green trees. As opposed to those other sorts of mornings, when he wondered what the hell he was doing, and worried whether Ethan might not be taking this rather more seriously than he was, and, really, wasn't there something actually quite wrong with Ethan when you thought about it, and what a waste of time this was when the entire world was in absolute and daily deadly peril.
So suddenly it became one of those other, less pleasant sorts of mornings, and Rupert decided he really had to get up.
"Have you packed?" Ethan asked him, waving his paperback. "You'll need to take your bag with you if you're going straight to the station after work."
"It's in my room," said Rupert. "Are you sure Diedre's parents won't mind me arriving so late?"
"If you've got to work, you've got to work," said Ethan. "And it'll go until late. They always pack us onto the last train home."
So Rupert washed and shaved and went to to work and did all the usual Saturday things. And then he took his bag of party clothes and his guitar to the train. He changed clothes oin the carriage's lavatory. It had been difficult to decide what to wear for an afternoon garden party that was going to stretch to and past dinner. Randall and Diedre had said they were opting for over-the-top again, but that wasn't a style Rupert was in any hurry to attempt. Instead he'd chosen trousers and a shirt with a smart corduroy jacket.
He regretted this as soon as he arrived at the station, where Diedre's brother was waiting for him in a suit and tie.
"I'm Matthew," Diedre's brother said, shaking hands. "You must be Rupert. She said you'd have a guitar. Pop in the car and we'll get you there."
Matthew was not quite as tall as Rupert, and somewhat broader in the shoulders. He didn't look much like Diedre at all, expect perhaps something in the chin. His BMW smelt of cigarettes and cologne, and there was a bag of fudge on the dashboard.
"I don't think you've been here before," said Matthew, "so I'll show you the sights on the way. We're really just a cluster of farms and small villages here but I think it's just as nice as anything you'd get in the city. We've a fine Norman church, a couple of Victorian monstrosities, and a couple of excellent places for looking for owls. And I'm joking by the way, I know it's nothing like the city. But--" and here he turned a corner "--it has its compensations." Because then they turned onto the top of a hill and could see the fields and roads sloping away from them, a green patchwork dotted with nearby sheep and more distant buildings. Matthew took his eyes off the road long enough to meet Rupert's gaze. "Not bad, is it?"
"Not bad at all," Rupert said, appreciatively.
"So where are you from, then?"
"A few places. Devon, at one point."
"Lovely countryside there too," said Matthew. He pointed downhill. "We're that way, past the village hall and a very good pub. Do you do much walking?"
"Used to," said Rupert. "Near home on weekends or on holidays. We did most of the Pennine Way in bits and bobs."
Matthew nodded appreciatively, then said, "If you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem as weird as the others."
"'The others'?"
"You know, the rest of the crowd Diedre's taken to. All a bit queer."
"She's proud of that."
"I know. But how's she, how's she actually doing? It's very hard for us to tell."
Rupert tried to think of the most positive thing he could say. "She's where she wants to be," he said.
"But why does it have to be that place? It always looks to me like it's about to collapse. Every time I pick up the phone I'm afraid that she's died in it."
"She wants to feel free," said Rupert, realising. "We all do."
"Surely you don't have to live in a squat for that," said Matthew. "Now watch this, we're about to pass into one of our famous sunken lanes."
It took another ten minutes to get to the house, which was a good-sized place near the top of a hill. Matthew drove through the gateway, past a tennis court and a large vegetable garden. "This is the back way in," he said. "The party's on in the south gardens."
He took them down a path along the edge of a potato patch, around a tall hedge and through an archway covered in climbing roses. Then they were on a sloping lawn shaded by pear trees and edged with brimming flowerbeds. The view was as magnificent as before. When he squinted, Rupert thought he could see as far as the Channel.
There were several dozen people standing around the gardens or sitting on lawn chairs. Most of the men were in suit and tie; most of the women were in light summer dresses. But then there was a mob of less conventionally dressed people down near a clutch of apple trees: that would be his lot, Rupert thought.
Matthew led him in the direction of a short, older man who shook Rupert's hand vigourously, said something largely incomprehensible, and then moved on. Rupert wasn't sure if he was Diedre's father or an uncle. Matthew had turned to say something to a waitress, so Rupert headed over to the group of fellow iconoclasts.
Randall was the most conspicuous, as always, resplendent today in royal blue and orange, lying on a picnic rug with his eyes closed against the sun. Stan and Tom sat next to him on the grass while Adrienne and Ethan sat in chairs. Adrienne was wearing some very large and ridiculous sunglasses; Ethan was finishing off a plate of food. And there was another girl, whom Rupert didn't recognise, a petite, fair-haired girl in her early twenties. She was very obviously pregnant.
"Louise, this is Ripper," said Adrienne.
"Pleased to meet you," said Louise. Rupert noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Louise has to sit with us now."
"I've sat with you before," said Louise.
"Yes, you have," said Adrienne, "but now you are able to give us your undivided attention."
Rupert put his guitar and his travel bag down on the lawn next to Randall.
"Get yourself some food," said Ethan, waving his fork. "It's fantastic."
Back over near the house were some tables, where pretty waitresses were pouring out wine and refilling platters. Rupert helped himself to a thick slice of roast chicken, a piece of ham, some potato salad, some green salad, and some shrimp. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten shrimp. And then one of the waitresses poured him a glass of white wine. She was showing just a little too much décolletage.
Adrienne looked at his plate when he returned. "They are serving dinner as well, you know."
Rupert sat next to Ethan, because that's where the empty chair was. Louise gave him a little wave.
Ethan said, low enough for only Rupert to hear, "I've been thinking about the genius loci spell again." (Rupert nodded, his mouth full of shrimp.) "I think we should start with something simpler, maybe one of the minor demons in the Ciccarello book. I think we can probably piece together one of those."
"Sounds reasonable," said Rupert, in between mouthfuls. More loudly, he asked, "Where's Diedre?"
"Off talking to everyone but us," said Randall. "This is the only time of year she gets to see most of the others."
"Who are they all?"
"Relatives," said Adrienne. "Girls we went to school with and their husbands. A couple of people she met at university. Neighbours. Friends from church."
"Doctors, solicitors, bankers, businessmen and I think there's a psychotherapist," said Randall.
"And their wives," said Adrienne.
"Janine's studying physics and poetry," said Louise. She pointed this girl out and they all stared in her direction.
"Maybe we should wave her over," said Randall, but she steadfastly refused to turn in their direction.
"The wine's very good," said Ethan, as he finished off his glass. "Why do we drink that noxious stuff at home?"
"I think because this kind's ten times as expensive," said Randall.
Ethan stared into his glass. "Maybe we could take a few bottles home?"
Diedre came over then, accompanied by a tall woman and a small child. There was no doubt at all who the older woman was: she and Diedre had the same hair and the same cast of face. The child looked about three and had fluffy blonde hair.
"Rupert!" Diedre said. Rupert stood to greet her; she proffered a cheek for him to kiss. "So glad you could make it. This is my mother, and this is my niece, Valerie."
Mrs Page looked like her daughter but she didn't move like her. There was a stiffness to her that her daughter lacked. She gave Rupert a very formal smile.
"Rupert Giles," he said, automatically, because anything else would have been impolite. "I'm very pleased to meet you."
"How are you enjoying it so far?" Diedre asked.
"Ah, well the food's fantastic. And I've met Louise. And the view here is very beautiful."
"Isn't it?" Diedre said.
Rupert wanted to ask her what Matthew had asked him: how could she go from this back to their slum of a house? How could any of them? (Well, Stan was probably a different case.) He thought suddenly and longingly of the old family home back in Devon, which he hadn't visited in years.
Mrs Page said, "Diedre tells me you play the guitar."
"Ah, yes, yes," said Rupert. "Acoustic and electronic but not, I'm afraid, classical."
"I wonder if you wouldn't mind entertaining our guests after dinner," said Mrs Page.
"Please do," said Diedre. "I've told her you're very good."
Rupert didn't explain that he'd only brought the guitar because he'd come straight from work. Instead, he smiled and said he'd love to.
"Any requests?" asked Ethan.
Mrs Page tilted her head but did not entirely turn to face him. "Ethan, how are you this year?"
"I'm very well."
"Are you working?"
"On a number of enterprises."
"And have you found a young woman yet?"
"Alas," said Ethan, "Adrienne and I have had to call it a day. We realised that while we greatly respect each other's capabilities, we hold a deep contempt for each other's life goals."
Mrs Page glanced at Adrienne, but Adrienne was fast asleep with her head flung back, and in imminent danger of falling from her chair.
"We'd better get back to the rest of the guests," Diedre said, taking her mother's hand.
"I should come with you," Tom said.
"There's really no need."
"I insist," Tom said.
"All right," said Diedre, but there was a noticeable reluctance to her voice.
Much of the next half hour was taken up in helpful and unhelpful suggestions from the remainder of the group as to what he might actually sing.
"What do you think of the waitresses?" Ethan asked Rupert during a lull in conversation.
"Mmm," said Rupert, unsure of what to say.
"I like the one with the curly hair. Not sure why. She's not the prettiest but she looks like she'd go for it."
Rupert turned to look at her. "It's the hips," he said, very quietly. "The hips and the décolletage."
"Yes," said Ethan. Then he started a little as he looked back towards the house. "Bugger."
"What is it?"
"Just someone I'd like to avoid."
"Who?"
"Diedre's cousin. I went to school with him. Well, if he comes over here I'll tell him to fuck off."
Rupert couldn't see very much from this distance, just a young man of average height in a dark suit and red tie. He was clean-shaven and his hair was unfashionably short.
A brown-haired woman came over then. It was the physicist-poet-to-be. "Diedre said I should talk with you?"
So she did.
61.
Dinner was over and Ethan was feeling full and somewhat sleepy. The sun hadn't quite set yet but was getting there and Venus had come out. The lights inside the house looked bright now whenever he glanced over. Rupert was sitting just outside the back door, singing some song or other with an adoring audience starting to form. Ethan decided to go for a walk instead.
It had been a good party, all in all. Good food, good wine, good weather. Last year it had started to rain during dinner, sending thirty mud-footed people inside over the axminster carpets. The year before that it had been windy enough in the afternoon that everyone had had to hold tight to their plates and glasses. Plus, there had been the wasps. The year before that-- well, Ethan hadn't known Diedre then. So this was definitely the best party so far of the ones he'd been to.
Louise had been all right, even if she had told gory stories of hospital casualty patients throughout dinner. Stan and Tom hadn't been too annoying. And he'd been glad to see Adrienne getting some much-needed sleep.
There had been that incident in the early afternoon when a group of encroaching suits had enquired of each other loudly what the cause of homosexuality was and whether it could be stamped out; Ethan had ignored them but Adrienne had not, which led to fifteen minutes of entirely irrelevant dyke jokes. Fortunately, Randall had managed to summon Diedre over to defuse it before Adrienne became homicidal.
Which was almost a pity, because his money would have been on Adrienne.
But then there had been the joy of watching Rupert get all enthusiastic about two topics he didn't seem to know much about, as he struggled to talk with Janine about physics and poetry. A schoolboy knowledge of Wordsworth and a recitation of verses from Beowulf was as much as he'd managed to muster. And he'd floundered very fetchingly over the philosophical implications of quantum mechanics.
There was a bench in the vegetable garden next to where the peas were planted. Ethan took the seat, watching the last gleams of twilight on the hills. On another side of the house, Rupert was singing a song that Ethan thought he should probably know the name of; Randall had a recording of it, he was sure.
He heard footsteps approach but didn't look up: it would be someone searching for the loo. But then the footsteps turned definitively in his direction. And, of course, it was the second last person on earth he wanted to see.
"Rayne," said Gibson. He looked a little less gawky than when Ethan had seen him last. "I have a message for you."
Ethan should have punched his lights out there and then.
60.
The first thing that Rupert thought of when he woke was the time. It was a Saturday, which meant he had work over lunchtime and the buses weren't very good. He was confused by the light, which looked nineish, but Ethan was awake and reading a book, which would be tenish. Where had he put his watch?
The second thing that Rupert thought of was Ethan's back. Ethan was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, so the covers had slipped down as far as his fourth vertebrae. He had nice skin and Rupert sometimes liked to press down heel of his hand and run along it to feel the bones and muscle underneath. Ethan hardly objected to this either.
The third thing he thought of that morning was about having sex, but then Ethan, without taking his eyes from the book, passed him his watch.
Nine-fifteen.
"You're awake early," Rupert said.
"It's a good book."
"I've got forty-five minutes," Rupert said, but then Ethan made him wait until he'd finished the chapter.
Afterwards, Rupert still had a little time before he had to get up. It was one of those mornings when it felt absolutely right that he should be waking up next to Ethan every day, lying on an old but clean mattress, amid piles of all sorts of odd books, looking up out the window at blue skies and waving green trees. As opposed to those other sorts of mornings, when he wondered what the hell he was doing, and worried whether Ethan might not be taking this rather more seriously than he was, and, really, wasn't there something actually quite wrong with Ethan when you thought about it, and what a waste of time this was when the entire world was in absolute and daily deadly peril.
So suddenly it became one of those other, less pleasant sorts of mornings, and Rupert decided he really had to get up.
"Have you packed?" Ethan asked him, waving his paperback. "You'll need to take your bag with you if you're going straight to the station after work."
"It's in my room," said Rupert. "Are you sure Diedre's parents won't mind me arriving so late?"
"If you've got to work, you've got to work," said Ethan. "And it'll go until late. They always pack us onto the last train home."
So Rupert washed and shaved and went to to work and did all the usual Saturday things. And then he took his bag of party clothes and his guitar to the train. He changed clothes oin the carriage's lavatory. It had been difficult to decide what to wear for an afternoon garden party that was going to stretch to and past dinner. Randall and Diedre had said they were opting for over-the-top again, but that wasn't a style Rupert was in any hurry to attempt. Instead he'd chosen trousers and a shirt with a smart corduroy jacket.
He regretted this as soon as he arrived at the station, where Diedre's brother was waiting for him in a suit and tie.
"I'm Matthew," Diedre's brother said, shaking hands. "You must be Rupert. She said you'd have a guitar. Pop in the car and we'll get you there."
Matthew was not quite as tall as Rupert, and somewhat broader in the shoulders. He didn't look much like Diedre at all, expect perhaps something in the chin. His BMW smelt of cigarettes and cologne, and there was a bag of fudge on the dashboard.
"I don't think you've been here before," said Matthew, "so I'll show you the sights on the way. We're really just a cluster of farms and small villages here but I think it's just as nice as anything you'd get in the city. We've a fine Norman church, a couple of Victorian monstrosities, and a couple of excellent places for looking for owls. And I'm joking by the way, I know it's nothing like the city. But--" and here he turned a corner "--it has its compensations." Because then they turned onto the top of a hill and could see the fields and roads sloping away from them, a green patchwork dotted with nearby sheep and more distant buildings. Matthew took his eyes off the road long enough to meet Rupert's gaze. "Not bad, is it?"
"Not bad at all," Rupert said, appreciatively.
"So where are you from, then?"
"A few places. Devon, at one point."
"Lovely countryside there too," said Matthew. He pointed downhill. "We're that way, past the village hall and a very good pub. Do you do much walking?"
"Used to," said Rupert. "Near home on weekends or on holidays. We did most of the Pennine Way in bits and bobs."
Matthew nodded appreciatively, then said, "If you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem as weird as the others."
"'The others'?"
"You know, the rest of the crowd Diedre's taken to. All a bit queer."
"She's proud of that."
"I know. But how's she, how's she actually doing? It's very hard for us to tell."
Rupert tried to think of the most positive thing he could say. "She's where she wants to be," he said.
"But why does it have to be that place? It always looks to me like it's about to collapse. Every time I pick up the phone I'm afraid that she's died in it."
"She wants to feel free," said Rupert, realising. "We all do."
"Surely you don't have to live in a squat for that," said Matthew. "Now watch this, we're about to pass into one of our famous sunken lanes."
It took another ten minutes to get to the house, which was a good-sized place near the top of a hill. Matthew drove through the gateway, past a tennis court and a large vegetable garden. "This is the back way in," he said. "The party's on in the south gardens."
He took them down a path along the edge of a potato patch, around a tall hedge and through an archway covered in climbing roses. Then they were on a sloping lawn shaded by pear trees and edged with brimming flowerbeds. The view was as magnificent as before. When he squinted, Rupert thought he could see as far as the Channel.
There were several dozen people standing around the gardens or sitting on lawn chairs. Most of the men were in suit and tie; most of the women were in light summer dresses. But then there was a mob of less conventionally dressed people down near a clutch of apple trees: that would be his lot, Rupert thought.
Matthew led him in the direction of a short, older man who shook Rupert's hand vigourously, said something largely incomprehensible, and then moved on. Rupert wasn't sure if he was Diedre's father or an uncle. Matthew had turned to say something to a waitress, so Rupert headed over to the group of fellow iconoclasts.
Randall was the most conspicuous, as always, resplendent today in royal blue and orange, lying on a picnic rug with his eyes closed against the sun. Stan and Tom sat next to him on the grass while Adrienne and Ethan sat in chairs. Adrienne was wearing some very large and ridiculous sunglasses; Ethan was finishing off a plate of food. And there was another girl, whom Rupert didn't recognise, a petite, fair-haired girl in her early twenties. She was very obviously pregnant.
"Louise, this is Ripper," said Adrienne.
"Pleased to meet you," said Louise. Rupert noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Louise has to sit with us now."
"I've sat with you before," said Louise.
"Yes, you have," said Adrienne, "but now you are able to give us your undivided attention."
Rupert put his guitar and his travel bag down on the lawn next to Randall.
"Get yourself some food," said Ethan, waving his fork. "It's fantastic."
Back over near the house were some tables, where pretty waitresses were pouring out wine and refilling platters. Rupert helped himself to a thick slice of roast chicken, a piece of ham, some potato salad, some green salad, and some shrimp. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten shrimp. And then one of the waitresses poured him a glass of white wine. She was showing just a little too much décolletage.
Adrienne looked at his plate when he returned. "They are serving dinner as well, you know."
Rupert sat next to Ethan, because that's where the empty chair was. Louise gave him a little wave.
Ethan said, low enough for only Rupert to hear, "I've been thinking about the genius loci spell again." (Rupert nodded, his mouth full of shrimp.) "I think we should start with something simpler, maybe one of the minor demons in the Ciccarello book. I think we can probably piece together one of those."
"Sounds reasonable," said Rupert, in between mouthfuls. More loudly, he asked, "Where's Diedre?"
"Off talking to everyone but us," said Randall. "This is the only time of year she gets to see most of the others."
"Who are they all?"
"Relatives," said Adrienne. "Girls we went to school with and their husbands. A couple of people she met at university. Neighbours. Friends from church."
"Doctors, solicitors, bankers, businessmen and I think there's a psychotherapist," said Randall.
"And their wives," said Adrienne.
"Janine's studying physics and poetry," said Louise. She pointed this girl out and they all stared in her direction.
"Maybe we should wave her over," said Randall, but she steadfastly refused to turn in their direction.
"The wine's very good," said Ethan, as he finished off his glass. "Why do we drink that noxious stuff at home?"
"I think because this kind's ten times as expensive," said Randall.
Ethan stared into his glass. "Maybe we could take a few bottles home?"
Diedre came over then, accompanied by a tall woman and a small child. There was no doubt at all who the older woman was: she and Diedre had the same hair and the same cast of face. The child looked about three and had fluffy blonde hair.
"Rupert!" Diedre said. Rupert stood to greet her; she proffered a cheek for him to kiss. "So glad you could make it. This is my mother, and this is my niece, Valerie."
Mrs Page looked like her daughter but she didn't move like her. There was a stiffness to her that her daughter lacked. She gave Rupert a very formal smile.
"Rupert Giles," he said, automatically, because anything else would have been impolite. "I'm very pleased to meet you."
"How are you enjoying it so far?" Diedre asked.
"Ah, well the food's fantastic. And I've met Louise. And the view here is very beautiful."
"Isn't it?" Diedre said.
Rupert wanted to ask her what Matthew had asked him: how could she go from this back to their slum of a house? How could any of them? (Well, Stan was probably a different case.) He thought suddenly and longingly of the old family home back in Devon, which he hadn't visited in years.
Mrs Page said, "Diedre tells me you play the guitar."
"Ah, yes, yes," said Rupert. "Acoustic and electronic but not, I'm afraid, classical."
"I wonder if you wouldn't mind entertaining our guests after dinner," said Mrs Page.
"Please do," said Diedre. "I've told her you're very good."
Rupert didn't explain that he'd only brought the guitar because he'd come straight from work. Instead, he smiled and said he'd love to.
"Any requests?" asked Ethan.
Mrs Page tilted her head but did not entirely turn to face him. "Ethan, how are you this year?"
"I'm very well."
"Are you working?"
"On a number of enterprises."
"And have you found a young woman yet?"
"Alas," said Ethan, "Adrienne and I have had to call it a day. We realised that while we greatly respect each other's capabilities, we hold a deep contempt for each other's life goals."
Mrs Page glanced at Adrienne, but Adrienne was fast asleep with her head flung back, and in imminent danger of falling from her chair.
"We'd better get back to the rest of the guests," Diedre said, taking her mother's hand.
"I should come with you," Tom said.
"There's really no need."
"I insist," Tom said.
"All right," said Diedre, but there was a noticeable reluctance to her voice.
Much of the next half hour was taken up in helpful and unhelpful suggestions from the remainder of the group as to what he might actually sing.
"What do you think of the waitresses?" Ethan asked Rupert during a lull in conversation.
"Mmm," said Rupert, unsure of what to say.
"I like the one with the curly hair. Not sure why. She's not the prettiest but she looks like she'd go for it."
Rupert turned to look at her. "It's the hips," he said, very quietly. "The hips and the décolletage."
"Yes," said Ethan. Then he started a little as he looked back towards the house. "Bugger."
"What is it?"
"Just someone I'd like to avoid."
"Who?"
"Diedre's cousin. I went to school with him. Well, if he comes over here I'll tell him to fuck off."
Rupert couldn't see very much from this distance, just a young man of average height in a dark suit and red tie. He was clean-shaven and his hair was unfashionably short.
A brown-haired woman came over then. It was the physicist-poet-to-be. "Diedre said I should talk with you?"
So she did.
61.
Dinner was over and Ethan was feeling full and somewhat sleepy. The sun hadn't quite set yet but was getting there and Venus had come out. The lights inside the house looked bright now whenever he glanced over. Rupert was sitting just outside the back door, singing some song or other with an adoring audience starting to form. Ethan decided to go for a walk instead.
It had been a good party, all in all. Good food, good wine, good weather. Last year it had started to rain during dinner, sending thirty mud-footed people inside over the axminster carpets. The year before that it had been windy enough in the afternoon that everyone had had to hold tight to their plates and glasses. Plus, there had been the wasps. The year before that-- well, Ethan hadn't known Diedre then. So this was definitely the best party so far of the ones he'd been to.
Louise had been all right, even if she had told gory stories of hospital casualty patients throughout dinner. Stan and Tom hadn't been too annoying. And he'd been glad to see Adrienne getting some much-needed sleep.
There had been that incident in the early afternoon when a group of encroaching suits had enquired of each other loudly what the cause of homosexuality was and whether it could be stamped out; Ethan had ignored them but Adrienne had not, which led to fifteen minutes of entirely irrelevant dyke jokes. Fortunately, Randall had managed to summon Diedre over to defuse it before Adrienne became homicidal.
Which was almost a pity, because his money would have been on Adrienne.
But then there had been the joy of watching Rupert get all enthusiastic about two topics he didn't seem to know much about, as he struggled to talk with Janine about physics and poetry. A schoolboy knowledge of Wordsworth and a recitation of verses from Beowulf was as much as he'd managed to muster. And he'd floundered very fetchingly over the philosophical implications of quantum mechanics.
There was a bench in the vegetable garden next to where the peas were planted. Ethan took the seat, watching the last gleams of twilight on the hills. On another side of the house, Rupert was singing a song that Ethan thought he should probably know the name of; Randall had a recording of it, he was sure.
He heard footsteps approach but didn't look up: it would be someone searching for the loo. But then the footsteps turned definitively in his direction. And, of course, it was the second last person on earth he wanted to see.
"Rayne," said Gibson. He looked a little less gawky than when Ethan had seen him last. "I have a message for you."
Ethan should have punched his lights out there and then.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-05 04:58 pm (UTC)I don't think anyone in the UK at the time would have said emergency room. They would say casualty. Like the TV show.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 11:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-05 09:07 pm (UTC)