“ what are you doing?” from Charles hehe
he lifts his head. spread out across the table are playbills. some new, some old, all of them equal in their worth to him. josiah smiles, almost roguish, and picks up a playbill — featuring a renowned singer coming to saint denis all the way from the state of new york by train — for charles to see. ❝ contemplating, my dear man. ❞ contemplating, of course, is a strong word. it’s more like he’s... shuffling thoughts together into a plan, the way one might try to take wet clay and form it into a vase, or perhaps a bowl.
he’s never tried his hand at pottery, although he’s always had some fondness for the arts. the playbill boasts all about how spectacular marie dupont is, how wonderful it is to hear her sing. unique, claims the advertisement, like no other! a must-see if you happen to be in town! josiah’s never seen her perform, before, so he’s inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe it. everyone, after all, is like no other until they very much are. next to the stack of playbills sits a few train tickets that he’d wheedled alden into giving him. not an easy feat, but after the promise of a shared drink and an in-depth discussion on the unionization of train station employees, a topic which josiah knows only a little about but which alden is very knowledgeable on, he’d agreed.
it hadn’t been the worst evening, but it’d been up there. all that to say — josiah stands, and leans in near charles to tap twice on the playbill. ❝ this woman, mademoiselle marie dupont, is a reputable singer from the east coast, or possibly france, and, if the rumors are true, very rich. ❞ charles can probably already see where this is going, josiah assumes. ❝ in a few days’ time she’ll be passing through the emerald ranch train station on her way to saint denis; when her train is stopped, i’d like to see what i can do to talk her out of some of that money. not all of it, of course. just enough. ❞ marie, as it turns out, is quite ( ! ) the philanthropist, as well as an art collector, and he’s been trying to conjure up some story about his integral role in saint denis’ art society for close to a week.
he believes he has the details worked out, but, unfortunately, the flaws don’t usually expose themselves across a work of art until you’ve pulled the hot clay from the fire. something like that, anyways. again, he’s never actually bothered to try. he doesn’t think he’d be very good at it, truth be told. he looks up at charles, brows raised in amusement : ❝ you’re more than welcome to come along, if you’d like. you can see me talk my way into trouble and then promptly talk my way out of it. it’s not your traditional stagecoach robbery, but... ❞ he lifts one shoulder, in an attempt at a casual shrug. he’s grateful enough that charles and arthur went out of their way to rescue him, and, in his own way, he’s been aching to pay them back for the kindness. this life doesn’t suit well for bargains, but josiah personally likes to think that’s how he summons up such good luck when he really needs it the most.
