It takes Beth all of two seconds behind the Staff Only door to start snorting, giggling, and otherwise acting incredibly unprofessionally at her place of work. It’s hard not to - when your boss’ boss (not literally, but…) shows up at your place of work and asks for him, in the middle of a snowstorm no less, it’s intriguing. When your boss is Julian Raines and the woman asking for him is the Sheriff of Piltover, it’s nearly hysterical.
Right. Tea first. She makes her way into the staff room (a converted storage room) and puts the kettle on. Julian really needs to buy some more tea, since she was the one who ventured out into the cold for it last time. Maybe she can pull a sob story about not liking the snow anymore, after getting stuck up on Targon for ages. He’s a bleeding heart. Anyways, the Sheriff’s probably the type for black tea.
Beth reappears a few minutes later with the closest-to-matching cup and saucer she could find, offering it to Caitlyn. “I’ll go see about that appointment.”
Off she goes again. First order of business is to check Julian’s office, so she heads back upstairs. It’s empty, of course, and she flicks off the lights with a roll of her eyes. The second order of business is to check Julian’s hideaway, which means that she’s got a few more flights of stairs to climb. She makes her way to the clocktower, searches through her key ring for the right key, and opens the door. The temperature inside is several degrees cooler, and so she hugs her arms to her chest as she takes the stairs up.
It takes her about half a flight to hear music, some old big band record, filtering down from above. Beth sighs and keeps climbing until she reaches the door - closed, of course - and knocks.
The music stops. Julian opens the door a few moments later, looking faintly embarrassed. “Er. Do we have visitors?”
She nods. “Just one. But she’d like an appointment with you, if you can fit it into your busy schedule.”
“Well,” he clears his throat, glancing at the room behind him, “I really shouldn’t keep someone waiting in this weather. We’ll have to go shovel the sidewalks again in an hour or so, I imagine…”
Beth momentarily grimaces at the thought. “Anyways, you’re right to not keep her waiting. The Sheriff’s a pretty busy woman, isn’t she?”
She grabs at his arm at about the same time he makes an awkward noise of surprise, leading him down the stairs.
“It’s the Sheriff, Beth?”
She mh-hms and continues down the stairs, smirking.
When Julian finally appears by the front desk, he’s much more composed. Beth has gone off to water the museum’s various plants - more accurately, to stay out of whatever this is going to be - so it’s just him.
He stays behind the desk, although he does lean against it slightly. “I heard that you wanted an appointment, Sheriff. Fortunately, my schedule’s rather free today on account of the weather… what can I help you with?”
The Piltovian government has been generous in providing grants and support for those who wish to start new businesses, particularly those in the arts, since Piltover’s rebuilding. A museum such as this, which preserves and presents culture and history to the world, is a fine venture, and one justly deserved by one art teacher, a Mister Julian Raines.
That is the truth of it. But there is more truth beneath. There’s always, always more truth beneath.
Perhaps, if the museum continues to draw modest crowds as it has done since its opening, it might be prompted to grow somewhat larger. Perhaps down into the basement, into the abandoned train station that lies under Piltover’s streets, under this very address.
There’s always more truth beneath.
Caitlyn thanks Beth for the tea, and her smile is soft and genuine. Still, the Sheriff reads the amusement in this particular daughter of Piltover, the bright eyes and barely-repressed smile of someone In The Know. The Sheriff’s presence here is an in-joke, because who is Julian Raines? Who else?
The sheriff cannot be sure of how much Julian and Beth have spoken, but there’s certainly something significant one must confess to a woman that had been left for dead by a man who has a bit of a martyr com–
Caitlyn sips her tea and looks at the poster instead; she does not feel compelled to follow that line of thought. The point is, Beth knows enough. She probably finds the Sheriff’s presence hilarious.
Eventually, she hears the staff-only door open, and the hesitant-eager sound of his step (a paradox, but so is he, so is she), and sees the way he maintains a barrier between them (protection from who she is, what she could do, what she won’t do, perhaps also something to lean on because Julian Raines is a man prone to having his breath taken away) and hears how he speaks. Perfectly polite. Perfectly reasonable. A perfect performance, even though there is no-one in the audience but themselves.
Sometimes, even to an empty theatre, performance is all either of them have.
Caitlyn sets down the teacup in its saucer, and gets to her feet. “It’s a little bit of business,” she says, playing her role. “Which, given the nature of it all, can be a little time-consuming.” She smiles faintly at him, then inclines her head towards the museum. She was here for the grand opening, but she would rather like to see how he’s made this place his own since then. Walking and talking is amenable, is it not?
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