Darcy

Just a guy that sees the world through a lens. Side blog of: whosxafraid. Written by Crow

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St. Patrick’s Church, Dundalk, Ireland

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Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

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beth and darcy moodboard. Theme: show me around your town.

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Shot from [ x ]

He’d been checking on dinner when she’d excused her self to take a call. And honestly? Darcy had thought nothing of it at all. Too busy with making sure the chowder continued to simmer without burning the bottom. Because one only makes that mistake once before you do everything in your power not to repeat it again. The bread pulled from the oven, set on the cutting board to cool. Which…actually came out rather good. It’s not his mother’s perfect production but where it fails in presentation maybe it will make up for in taste. He can only hope anyway.

He’d been wheeling back to his computer on the other side of the bar when he’d heard it. Gotten caught up in touching up a photo when ears had pricked up at his name. And where he really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, it wasn’t exactly like he couldn’t not. Not with the way her voice was carrying from the bathroom. The bad speaker like quality of a male voice on the other end, which is only so easy to work out is her brother, Andy.

A brow lifts, blue moving away from the computer screen when just friends is rather stoutly stated. Only a second or two for it to dawn on him why she would have to defend their rela–right. Over protective brother syndrome most likely. Not that Darcy can say he wouldn’t be. Beth’s a kind and gentle person from what he’s seen so far. You add on the fact she’s easy on the eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out why her brother might be a pinch too over bearing. Hell, Darcy knows what that feels like. Particularly where Cian is concerned. Ox too but maybe to a lesser degree given the latter’s personal history. Regardless though…

Eyes go wide when Beth suddenly goes full savage. The transplant staring at the bathroom door like it’s suddenly grown legs and arms. A mouth with teeth that’s going to eat him. The sarcasm only just so obvious with the door monster muffling the tone. Sarcasm that honestly Darcy can’t decide if it makes him feel better or otherwise, all things considered.

But then Beth’s coming out the door, shoving her phone in her pocket. And for a few seconds there’s an awkward kind of air that falls over the apartment as blue meets ocean. A sort of tension that screams for someone to say something, while simultaneously implying there will be blood if someone does. It makes his heart hammer and slow fall into the floor. It makes the seconds last too long and the echoing quiet of the room close in. Because the truth is? That hadn’t been meant for his ears. And whether or not he’d meant to hear it is in this moment irrelevant.

           Beeeeeep. Beeeeeep. Beeeeeep.

He starts sharply. A clearing of his throat, before he’s half scrambling to get back to the stove. Turn the burner off completely. Find the bowls he’d set out and the ladle. And…as naturally as possible…Darcy Burke diverts from the growing elephant in the room. Tries his very best to squash it under his wheels. Because there is nothing going to come from it. At all. Period.

       “Grab ta spread out v’ta oi’ce box would ye? Goin’ ta need i’ for ta bread in o’sec.”

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Miss Beth :

Across The Pond...

“Mr Darcy, fancy dat,” she grins and doesn’t even think about how often he must have heard that same tired joke or the fact that her name is technically Elizabeth. 

She’s always preferred Bronte to Austen anyway. She nods as he introduces his two friends by name and part of her instinctively bristles that the one called Oscar has such an unflattering nickname. It just seems kind of mean-spirited but she doesn’t know any of them, or how the name came about, or a lot of anything about the new neighbours and it’s not really her place to say a thing. So she pushes the instinctive frown somewhere deep below and picking up the appropriately labelled box, she starts to follow in at a decent pace behind him. She leaves enough room that should he need to turn or something that he doesn’t have to contend with her, too. She winces when he mentions his alcohol from back home, and mentally makes note to bring him a list of really great import shops where he can possibly replace it. She’s always liked the open floor plans of their building, and she doesn’t mention to him that her family once owned the whole building until the stock market collapsed in the Twenties when they retained the fifth floor and converted the rest of the building to house people stricken by disaster. She can’t wait to see what he does with his space. Though it isn’t like she expects him to invite her back. It just makes her happy to have more life in the place. 

“Yeah, I guess I no t’ink of it dat way. Mebbe more’n dat. One of my bes’ friends is a EMT wi’ Ladder Hundred an’ fourteen… dey serve Bay Ridge an’ Sunset Park. Very dedicated guys, ya know? Jus’ don’ tell my braddah I said dat, I like sleepin’ indoors.” She laughs but there’s a ribbon of seriousness that runs through her words as she picks her way carefully toward one of the kitchen counters with her box. “Well, I normally work six a’ night t’ six inna morning, four days one week, t’ree days da next. Andy’s a detective so he’s got more normal hours. Work seven-t’-four Monday t’rough Friday, but he on call sometimes, so i’ jus’ depend. But a’leas’ we’re only a few floors away? We do try an’ coordinate days off, or holidays. But wi’ ya cousins, I’m sure ya know what dat like.”

Without thinking about it, she starts fiddling with the box that she was assigned, half tempted to start putting things away. “Oh, how excitin! Ya get ta be based here an’ travel, or ya coverin’ jus’ like da whole city kine? I mean we got a lot of famous sport here, but our football game suck. American football, no soccer. Wha’ ya favourite sport?” She smiles and waves at his friend when they are interrupted, but her bright gaze doesn’t stray far from Darcy. When he places the box on the counter, she helps it settle back a touch, before leaning a hip against it. Being a not very tall person herself, she knows what a pain it can be to just not quite reach something. She’s sure he’s got his own system but she isn’t quite comfortable enough to ask about it.

“Oh uh, bot’. My Aunty an’ her family still dere, up near Belfas’. Runs da family business from her place. Our gran’ parents split dere time between here an’ dere. But our family been here in New York since long time ago. Turna-century. Well, da Admiral’s side. My maddah side all live in O’ahu, an’ Maui. T’rough her, I’m K…native Hawai’ian.”

She offers Darcy a little shaka and a grin.

Mistah Darcy, fancy d’at.

A small smile. Because he won’t be telling her just yet that she’s hit the nail on the head way more accurately than she thinks. A joke but its actually not. His mother had named him after the very character his new neighbor’s implied. Not a particular fact he’s up for ever really announcing. He’d half slept through that part of literature lessons, after all. 

         “Secret’s safe wi’t me. Lot o’ye be made o’ be’er stuff in me opinion. Dunna t’ink oi’ be havin’ t’at koi’nda moxie.”

He shifts then, to accommodate her move. An appreciation for the wordless help. Because knowing his luck Ox would catch it with a stray elbow and that would be the end of their dishware. Something that leads him to wheel back a little more and actually turn the kitchen light on. Casting everything in an aged light bulb hue. Right add that to the list to replace. Just as soon as Cian can spare a minute to run to the store. 

           “Favorite? Boxin’, hands up.”

It’s a bad joke. Corny at the highest of degrees, but he owns it anyway. A smile flashed her direction, when she mentions family and her mother being from the clear opposite side of the world. That had to be an interesting story. And one he can already tell produced a rather interesting person to boot. He bets her brother is as well if he’s anything at all like her. Still there’s an admiring kind of frown as he much less skillfully returns her shaka. 

          “Hawaii...were always wantin’ ta visit. Maybe when m’old aye? Plenty o’toi’me for ya ta teach me all ta places ta visit first.”

A wink even though he doesn’t really mean anything by it, wheeling into the living room. One of the medium sized frames leaned against the couch, picked up and turned round with only a little bit of difficulty. The photograph contained there in, one of the more viral shots of last year’s Heavy Weight Champion winning by a K.O.

         “Ne’er much lef’ Dublin save for holidays wi’t me family til now but---T’is’ta wee piece t’at were gettin’ me noticed.”

         Gonna be me yer snappin’ t’ose fancy t’ings of one day mate!

A glance towards the door, Ox having come back in to throw out the dust bin full of glass before going to get the rest. An overconfident smile on his face given to the both of them before Cian’s yelling has him hot footing it back outside. Darcy eye rolling again with a shake of his head.

         “Dunna worry, he no’ quittin’ is day job....t’ough tween us f’he'd focus more he moi’ght actually ge’ t’ere one day.”

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[X] [Darcy]

Gotta photograph, picture of... || Accepting  

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Sláinte!

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beth and darcy moodboard. Theme: show me around your town.

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Shot from [ x ]

A snap and click and slide. A reach around to his bag. A blind replace of a third lens for yet another. Slide and click and snap. The shutter going faster than blinks can fathom. His focus completely centered on the bubble maker not feet away from him. And maybe he should have asked permission, and maybe he will yet. But for now he snaps away. Capturing every half second between seconds. The way the light off the water catches on the soapy and tragically momentary architecture. The micro expressions that shift and change upon Beth’s face. And how the light catches those too.

So maybe he couldn’t really be blamed for taking more than were necessary. Maybe he couldn’t be blamed that later, there’d be just one he’d keep, just for himself. To tuck away in that book of snap shots he never lets anyone see. Not even Cian or Ox. So maybe to that thinking it isn’t so out of the blue that he asks the question that he does. Why the camera was set to rest on his lap in the process. Because sometimes? Sometimes he has to fight the very feeling he asks about when Beth deems to take him out on these adventures. Because there has to be a hundred things she’d rather do than hang out with him.

Yet she keeps doing it. And while he’s mostly come to terms with the fact that she is the newest member of his slow growing group of friends here in the proverbial new world...there’s still bits and pieces of doubt that hold on. So he asks. He asks and then immediately regrets it, because she can probably see right through it. Though he holds on to that tiny idea that maybe she doesn’t. At least until she’s very quickly and rather suddenly making a seat of him. His camera pulled out of the way at the last second, hanging from his hand that’s now drapped over her thighs. And honestly? The man stops breathing a bit with the proximity.

Freezes in that not so rigged way, as his gaze gets stuck somewhere in the area of her nose. And he realizes right then she’s got freckles. Freckles he’s never noticed and they...they fit. Make Beth somehow...more Beth. And it’s that realization that for some reason has him taking a breath. Small and calm like nothing at all about her current place has changed anything. Yet even with the breeze whipping by he smells it. The ghosts of her shampoo and lotion. And he can’t help thinking it reminds him of his mother’s kitchen. Warm and welcoming and like biscuits in the oven. And there’s a smile that pulls at his mouth at that similarity, just as much as the soapy pop! that occurs against his nose a moment later.

          Alla time. she says. Lucky f’me d’ough, ya real good about hiding’ it, an’ so sometime it feels like it no pity so much as ya like my company.

The chill in the air has nothing to do with how color rises in his cheeks. Nothing to do with how he feels warmer than he did a minute ago. Nothing to do with that smile evolving into a chuckle. One that has his gaze rising up to her own then dropping down and away to some unimportant space. And that color in his cheeks? Only gets a little deeper when she starts talking about assuming he’s trying to get out of his promise to go with her to the gala. That the only way that was happening was if he could find himself a girl and get to sparkin’--

That chuckle becomes a real laugh. One that makes his shoulders shake a bit and his head pitch. Tilting to one side once he’s looked back at her proper. Because he’d be crazy not to want to go. Crazy to try and get out of it. And if Beth really thought for one minute he’d chase a girl just in order to chase her off well he guesses he’s not the only one fighting self doubt. And without thinking he’s settling his camera right in her newly made lap. A hand coming up and a finger tugging a wisp of run away hair behind her ear.

            “No’ goin’ ta leave ye droi’y Beth. Told ye oi’m goin’ so oi’m goin’. Soi’des...oi’ koi’nda been lookin’ forward ta i’.”

And that is the hard truth. He has been looking forward to it. Maybe not the crowds, and definitely not the rubbing shoulders with the sort of people that would be there; but because she’d asked him. Because he doesn’t often get to indulge in things like art museums. Because at the end of the day, he’d have gone with a smile on his face--even if it was something as egregiously boring as the opera--because Beth had asked. And he cares about her enough to know, if she asks and its plausible, he’ll see it done. Because that’s what friends do for each other, right?

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