Eva grinned at his equally terrible attempt to be British and subsequent laugh. Being horrible at pretending was half the fun of this game and they’d managed to perfect that part. “That’s Digby the fifth, by the way. You have five Digbys worth of history to live up to,” she added, sinking down lower in the chair.
“I think I stole at ridiculous hat from Rita after she left for that spa weekend,” Eva informed him. By “think” she actually meant “definitely,” as Eva had been pilfering things from Rita almost from the moment she’d moved into their home. Their step mother had to know it was happening, but she’d never said anything to Eva about it. It was absolutely no secret Eva disliked Rita. She’d tell anyone who would listen.
“Its that pink one that juts off to one side,” Eva poked her hand up off the side of her head to indicate the hat’s shape. “She wore it to the racetrack opening two years ago. Its absolutely perfect for looking absolutely bonkers. But you… you do need a monocle. And and ascot! Maybe a cane?” she mused.
“We could go to Mirambel’s or the Tavern, I guess…” that seemed terribly normal though, as those were both places they frequented as themselves all the time. “We could promenade through downtown and act like tourists.” That always left the possibility of someone they were friends with seeing them, which Eva only secretly cared about. Suddenly, the game seemed boring and overplayed.
“Five Digbies,” mused Xander. “Wow, that’s...a lot of Digbies. There’s a lot of responsibility there for Digby,” said Xander, slyly, in his most solemn tones. “But if anyone is up to carrying on that astonishing legacy it’s Digby V. That, ice cream, and the appropriate solemnity of both his and Martha’s fashion choices are all he really thinks about,” he teased.
“Sartorially speaking, I think we can agree that the monocle has just been promoted from a useful accessory to a necessity. When you’re Digby V it would be practically a betrayal of everything you stand for not to wear one...on your beach vacation to Hawai’i,” he added, breaking into laughter, picturing the two of them sporting ridiculous clothes and even more ridiculous accents. “Horn rimmed glasses,” he decided. “I doubt Digby can even see without them...though I suppose it is possible there’re contacts today, given that we’re going to the beach. If I don’t do the glasses, though, I’ll need a pipe. I’m beginning to suspect may be Digby might be confused about the century he’s living in.”
Xander’s eyes brightened as he burst into laughter and clapped a hand to his mouth. “That’s an epic score, Eva,” he commented. His own feelings about Rita were similar to Eva’s, which made the fact that Eva had not only stolen a hat from her, but now planned to wear it satirically a double win in Xander’s book. At his most honest, Xander knew that the things he most hated about Rita probably weren’t even her fault...but it was easier to blame her than everyone else. “I think it’s appropriate that Rita is donating clothing to this cause. God knows it’s about the only good she’s done us.”
In truth, Xander only felt more bitter about Rita now that their parents were dead. He felt that, by rights, it should have been Rita in that car instead of their mother and, while he didn’t wish Rita dead, it stuck in his craw that somehow she had survived while all the other parental figures in their lives had not. It felt like a hard irony and it was one he didn’t want by any stretch.
“Pink!” he exclaimed, delightedly. “No doubt Martha’s favorite color, and certainly the...jutting quality suits the racetrack superbly. “An ascot and a can,” he nodded. “You’re exactly right. Ok, I think I can borrow one from Aaron,” he said, tone conveying that he would be borrowing it without permission. The monocle might be a little tougher, but I’m confident we can find one at the Emporium, if there isn’t one around here somewhere. Do you think Roman might have one?” he joked.
Xander watched the disappointment play across his sister’s face and knew it would not do. He divined the problem. With as much enthusiasm as he could muster, he said, “We absolutely must promenade like tourists! Especially since we actually live here, I think it just emphasizes the necessity. But let’s maybe hit some less common targets, this time. So here’s my thought: first we’ll promenade to the track, than we’ll wander the racetrack where we can pick up some of those little tiki drinks, yeah? Then we’ll promenade in all our grandeur to the beach where we will ceremonially drown Rita’s hat. How does that sound?”
