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@estellebastien
Mindless Rummaging || Brandon & Estelle
"Unfortunate? Hardly so, Miss Bastien." The coin danced as if on strings over the uneven planes of Brandon’s often-broken often-repaired fingers. His line of sight remained there, while his ears did all the work of gauging his surroundings. "Too many questions, too few answers for nosy passengers about what the good lady wants with the humble gymnasium man. I’m sure you’re a delight, but you’re compromising us both."
And I would have bet a lung Dietrich taught you better than that. He wondered what she was hiding. He was forced to lift his gaze as he watched her approach. It took less than a second to understand her angle, and revulsion filled his mouth like bile at the thought.
"The tension’s thick in here, all right," he agreed, the coin dipping between his fingers and rolling on the flat of his now-upturned palm. "It’s a big ship and you have plenty more to entertain yourself with than your ‘brother’. People might talk to hear it." He didn’t block the door, and he looked exactly as aged and slow as he had when he was released from the hospital the day his career died. It was a good illusion to maintain. This pretty bird with only one weapon in her arsenal must know all about those.
She cocked her head coyly to the side as she continued to examine him. "You do not believe my situation unfortunate?" She spoke in a rather smug and in control voice. Estelle was set in the mission mode and it would be a setting that she could not fail in. "There are no truly good ladies. Perhaps it shall give little Miss Bastien some dimensions. But if you wish me to be good, then I can accept that fate for this journey. Although there is little to fear. Only perhaps from this man," she gestured with a slight roll of her shoulder to Mr. Jordan's area of the cabin. "I should hope that you would be competent enough to avoid a scandal though. My reputation is so very important to dear Caspar."
Estelle's eyes remained fixed on the man that entire time. Only a few moments did she allow her eyes to travel first along his body but then another to rest on the coin. She snapped her eyes back up. His facade may have been able to fool those that were unknown to his power, but she would never make the foolish mistake of underestimating her opponent. Especially one as competent as Brandon. A small smirk adorned her lips at the mention of Luc once more. The feelings she held toward him were best kept sealed up tightly beneath her continued smugness. Around the man in question, she did slip up a couple moments, but if anyone else found out... She'd never hear the end of it. And it would further compromise her position at her side.
"The tension must be released then," she spoke in a somewhat lower tone, appearing introspective. "Why search out unintelligent company to entertain myself with? Why not someone that can appreciate me?"
Forgive me
It doesn’t matter, I just thought someone of the same social class would understand. Distract me? I’ve got too many things going on in my head.
I presume I could act as distraction if you wish. Perhaps an introduction is a suitable place to begin. My name is Estelle Bastien. And you are?
Don’t say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you. -Anaïs Nin
Forgive me
I didn’t ask for you to understand me, no one ever does.
Then... Then I do not know what you are asking of me.
Excuse me, are you lost?
Very well then, that is my one goal for today: to be less of a killjoy than your family members. I would ask you to not raise your hopes too much. A bath attendant is a poor conductor of excitement.
I am sure that you will be able to succeed.
Well, you must know all the secrets of the ship where excitement is kept from women such as myself.
Forgive me
But I fear that I am misunderstanding you.
Excuse me, are you lost?
[Dennis laughed softly. It would seem that no matter how questions he put to her, she would always reply with one of her own.] Is it excitement we’re searching for? I don’t want to disappoint you by telling you that the most excitement I’ve seen today is the cooks chasing cats away from the kitchens. Quite a sight, the portly fellows running down the halls brandishing spoons.
[ She let out a light hearted laugh. ] Excitement? Oh, yes. My family has a horrible habit of ruining all the excitement. I hardly doubt that you would be able to disappoint me.
He ran the course and as he ran he grew, And smelt his fragrance in the field. Already, Running he knew the most he ever knew, The egotism of a healthy body. Ran into manhood, ignorant of the past: Culture of guilt and guilt's vague heritage, Self-pity and the soul; what he possessed Was rich, potential, like the bud's tipped rage. The Corps developed, it was plain to see, Courage, endurance, loyalty and skill To a morale firm as morality, Hardening him to an instrument, until The finitude of virtues that were there Bodied within the swarthy uniform A compact innocence, childlike and clear, No doubt could penetrate, no act could harm. When he stood near the Russian partisan Being burned alive, he therefore could behold The ribs wear gently through the darkening skin And sicken only at the Northern cold, Could watch the fat burn with a violet flame And feel disgusted only at the smell, And judge that all pain finishes the same As melting quietly by his boots it fell.
"Innocence" by Thom Gunn
Mindless Rummaging || Brandon & Estelle
High on his guard, Brandon shuffled across the room, maintaining the maximum distance between them. What was she doing here? For a First Class passenger to risk being seen in the crews’ quarters, there had to be something amiss. Was it Dietrich? Was the old bastard sending his own spies to check on Brandon?
He leaned on the nearest bunk bed for support, conjuring a smile for Estelle’s benefit. Her very presence was making him uppity. Almost reflexively, he reached into his pocket for the sovereign he carried, rolling it between his knuckles. The dull shine of the metal in the natural light of day gave him something to focus on.
"Not especially, Miss Bastien, no," he said pleasantly nonetheless. "Afraid you’re taking a small amount of risk coming down here yourself. You could have sent for me, if you had any business in the lower decks."
She pursed her lips and let out a slightly frustrated breath, "How unfortunate for me that you should not want me in your presence." Her eyes scanned over him quickly, nearly mechanically. It was a habit that she had driven into her since she was recruited into Caspar's web of spies. What caught her attention was how he fiddled with a coin in one hand. Oh, sweetheart, unable to focus, hm? Perhaps under some more slight discomfort, I can get out of here. But how?
At least he was pretending to be congenial. "Perhaps I needed a risk. Something to do," she answered with a light shrug before coming to her feet again. Estelle took a few steps toward him. She was conscious of how she moved particularly as she dropped her shoulders slightly and allowed her hips to move from side to side as she neared him slightly. "Or someone to entertain me. Luc can be so droll whenever he's captured a new society woman. I can hardly be blamed for seeking out someone that may ease the tension."
Excuse me, are you lost?
The choice is yours, ma’am. It was you who began this wandering, I am simply tagging along; I will follow where you lead, for there is nothing in particular I wish to see.
What are some of the exciting parts of the ship, monsieur?
Mindless Rummaging || Brandon & Estelle
Brandon moved heavily down Scotland Yard, forcing the pantry cook he was walking with to slow down as well. He could run and jump and pounce with the speed of a much younger man, but it was more prudent to be obfuscating. The cook was laughing about the dietary eccentricities of Courtney, one of the passengers, and Brandon pretended to keep up. His mind was wandering up the decks to that darkie girl (the rebel’s daughter.) He’d seen that fire before in another little lioness pretending to be a lamb, a little lioness with balls of steel that pranced about the ship with a different name.
The cook kept talking even as they reached the dormitory cabin where Brandon was bunking along with crew men half his age (for whose benefit he had to pretend to be eight times older than he was.) Under the steady stream of chatter, Brandon could hear something. It was the middle of the day, the occupants of the cabin would be on their respective shifts. Who’d be back so early?
"Kenneth, shut up for a second."
The cook paused mid-word, affronted.
"My leg’s acting up," clarified Brandon, even though it was his upper body that was mottled with scars. "You’ve got to give me a minute. Catch my breath. Recuperate. Go on back to the kitchen, I’ll come by later." More lies, but this time they both knew. He leaned against the wall, pretending to rub his supposedly bung knee, until he was sure Kenneth was out of earshot.
At last, he straightened (but not too much), pushing open the cabin door, leaning his weight into it. The first thing he noticed was the golden hair and he inwardly suppressed a groan. This was Reynaud’s doing, was it? He closed the door behind him firmly and leaned against it.
"Did you know you’re not supposed to be here, Miss Bastien?”
Her mind raced as the door's knob turned. With a quick glance about the room, Estelle recalled a mental image of what the room had looked like before she had entered. There appeared nothing to be out of place or particularly skewed. Perhaps each thing was not in the exact location, but there would honestly be no time for her to rush to replace it and think of a decent enough lie to why she was currently going through a man's belongings.
Why had she not been able to hear another approaching? Had she really been so engulfed by these letters of love that she had been willing to forget herself, even for a moment? Estelle mentally scolded herself, irritated that she could be so sentimental. Why was it at the worst times possible that her heart decided that it wanted to feel something? Why could she not be the machine that she claimed to be or the machine that Luc appeared to be?
She visibly relaxed though when the man walked through the door. Her entire tactic shifted quickly as he entered. "Brandon," she greeted warmly as she seated herself on Dennis' bed. Perhaps she could treat him as the other men on board? Or act as though she was not being treated properly enough by her 'family'. "Are you not happy to see me?"
Incredible.
Very well then. [How easy it is to slip back into the persona, exchange the borrowed French for borrowed English.] I was not aware that I had entreated you or obligated you or perhaps even asked you to assist me in this endeavour. You are my fairweather friend, I absolve you of any necessity of lending me a helping hand. As I have said before, I will say again: fine. I will accomplish this on my own. I have been doing your job when you are not there, I have been doing your job when I am alone, when I am with someone else. I am not infallible, but I am damn near close to it. You talk, I sweep, do you remember? Sweeping is not as easy as smiling and flirting, and I will get this carried out as well. If dear Uncle Reynaud should ask, you are my sister and you are nothing more. Good night, mon sœur.
We are siblings... Partners, and now bound together on a particular path. You need not ask for anything from me for I have been taught my purpose and place just as well as you have been instructed. You may be attempting to do my job, but you are not any farther in bringing us to Matilda than I am. [ If only you knew how taxing smiling and flirting was when you had to watch it happen around you and not to you day in and day out. If you were told to never let anyone affectionately touch you, to only be ravished by glances and seduced by words. But you will never know since the rules are different. ] Just as I would have wished to be. Good night. [ Go find a de Winter to seduce, you bastard. ]
Incredible.
Very well, then. If that’s what you want to tell yourself, who am I to disagree with my sweet, honeyed sister whom I love more than myself?
It’s your not morality I care about. We’ve carried out our assigned roles for so long, I’m sure I could do your job with something like competence, but you couldn’t do mine. We are the best at what we each do for a reason. You talk, I sweep. Let’s keep it that way. And Holt says his name is Jordan. They’re quartered together along with a few others on the E Deck, at the ship’s rear. [Just in case I need to tie those bedsheets around his neck.] Holt was remarkably uncooperative when I suggested he finish the job for us.
Exactly. Who are you to disagree? So, please, quit disagreeing with me.
You think that you could easily do my job? [ Who in the HELL do you think you are? If I wasn't here- God, why do you do this to me? And why do I feel this way around... It is something I cannot understand and it worries me, especially since you cast me off so easily and take into your bed numerous women who could never mean anything to you. ] If you could do my job so well, then why am I the one attempting to clean up after you? Since it is you who have lost the message and you who should be retrieving it. I understand completely why Brandon would not be willing to do YOUR job.
Excuse me, are you lost?
It would be my pleasure. As for my duties—I can abandon them for the present moment. I am entirely yours for the next [When does the next shift start? Ah, right.]…oh, two hours or so.
Entirely mine for two whole hours? Oh, how many wonderful things we could see and discover together! Where would you suggest our adventure to begin? [ Okay, Estelle. Be the perfect woman. Compliant, willing, and ready to follow him anywhere he takes you. Smile... See it isn't too hard? ]
Mindless Rummaging || Brandon & Estelle
She had thought every possible scenario through. Estelle continued to calculate as she weaved her way through the numerous hallways she had memorized before even boarding the ship. With a memory such as hers, the twists and turns had little impact on her. She merely kept an expression that conveyed an awareness of her imminent destination. It kept crew members from stopping her as she had begun her journey. But as she went further away from other passengers, her gait and demeanor took on slight changes. Instead of the light swishing of her skirts and quiet steps, she moved fluidly and silently. She would pause and listen before she turned a corner. It would be easy enough to create an excuse for her being so out of place, but speaking meant possible witnesses and loose ends, which was the last thing that she needed. How could Luc have been careless enough to leave this Mr. Jordan enough time to obtain Caspar's message? It had been the first part of the mission and somehow he had not been able to do something as simple as this. Why was it she risked her own cover for him now though? She clenched her jaw lightly at even the simplest thought of her partner. The two had grown up together that they could easily function as siblings. Estelle had no personal experience with siblings so she could only study what she observed around her and apply it. But for some reason, she hardly thought a brother and sister could tease and pester one another quite in the way the two 'Bastien' siblings did one another. She slowed and glanced over her shoulder before selecting the door to the man's cabin. Estelle went for the doorknob carefully and set her ear lightly against the door. There seemed to be no movement behind the door, but she waited a moment before she was sure she had presumed correctly. No one was inside. If she remembered correctly, and she never forgot anything, not only Dennis was resident of this room. In most situations, having another member of Caspar's network involved would have brought her comfort, but it only heightened the stakes. If she was discovered by anyone, her failure would be told directly and she would have to reveal Luc's failure in turn. Two failures would, no doubt, be unacceptable. The door was easy enough to open and she took a final look left and right down the hall before she slipped into the cabin. She silently shut the door behind her and began her task. Both sides of the room appeared equally vacant of any sort of personalization. She could understand it for Brandon, but for a normal man... It did not make as much sense. With each sweeping glance about the room, Estelle took in more and more information. After she determined which side was Dennis', she set about to rummage through his belongs carefully. The dresser was the closest hiding place to her and went for the top drawer. Inside were his undergarments all neatly folded and obviously undisturbed. "If I were a crumpled, water damaged note, where would I be hidden?" She murmured in French to herself as her bright blue eyes continued to survey the remainder of the drawers. But every single thing appeared to be in its proper place. There were no unfolded clothing or anything that seemed to be recently disturbed. To be perfectly honest, it appeared rather as though no one truly lived in the cabin. There were no photographs of any family members. It was devoid of any form of personality. It actually looked much like Estelle's usual residence whenever no having a persona's belongings forced upon her. But this man had no grown up as she had, so where were all his personal effects? Where was his central desire stemmed from? Every person had something that made them tick. If it was not out in the open, then that central desire was hidden deep within. Even regarding this fact, why hide something in a personal cabin? There was only one other cabinet beside the bed that she had not searched. With a frustrated sigh, Estelle took a seat on the ground and started to pull open the drawers to inspect the contents. There was not much there either, but something did catch her attention finally. It may not have been her intentional goal to learn something about this man, but the opportunity presented itself beautifully. A small twinge of what could have been a smile crossed her face as she pulled out a large bundle of papers and set them onto her lap. Her eyes quickly scanned the stack for what she had been searching for, but these were too neat and preserved to ever have been stored in a water tap in the Turkish Baths. But there was something particular about them. As she slowed her quick inspection, she noticed that they entire stack were in the same handwriting. Each letter seemed to have been crafted with care and rather neat penmanship. Obviously someone educated. She did not doubt the crewman's education, but this was above that of a bath attendant. The next interesting piece of information was the signature. Rather interesting how each is only signed with the letter 'A'. Plenty of situation and circumstances could make the need for secrecy necessary. But she had the make the decision if this information would be useful or not. She tucked each word into her mind as she continued to peruse the letters, which turned out to be full of romance. Would she have received such trivial missals if she had been given the opportunity to live such a mundane life? Would her current feelings of pity have been turned to compassion and sympathy if she had been able to relate? But she would never get to answer those question, for at that moment, she heard someone about the enter the cabin! Estelle hurriedly put all of the letters back where she had taken them from and stood up, facing the doorway. She was prepared for nearly anything with an excuse beginning to tumble out of her mouth, "Oh my, forgive me for intruding. I merely must have taken this scavenger hunt too far-" Her mouth snapped shut and her act dropped the minute she was able to identify the newcomer.
Incredible.
[Temper, temper.] I’m afraid that your graceless older brother wouldn’t be doing his part right if he didn’t push all the right buttons. How do you pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, if you’re quite so transparent?
I have been told by plenty that my generosity is worth beatifying me for. I would not, however, like some rosbif’s blood on your clean hands. It’s not worth it. Our roles have always been separate. You charm them, I clean up after you. No need to break what isn’t broken.
I only appear transparent to you. [ Why must you continue to be so infuriating! I am every bit as useful as you! And you are the one that could not keep a damn crew member from intercepting a note! You had only this to accomplish until we located Matilda! ] I just do not feel like wasting the effort on you.
How kind of you to concern yourself with my morality. It is oddly misplaced, but I shall allow you to feel your superiority concerning the offing of any certain unnecessary ends. [ Let us not forget when you are not around and I am forced to smother a man before he takes my honored virtue away from me. ] Now then, I shall attempt to charm this loose end that you have created. I need a name.