| Details for Mr. Travers, Part Two |
| Summary: | Beryl takes it upon herself to be a ministering angel and visit Tiberius' unfortunate captive. |
| Date: | 1939-01-17 |
| Location: | Tiberius' Hovel |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Slowly locked away within the hidden safe Alistair begins to awake. The blonde is curled into a ball and groans softly as he sits up in the dark blinking to let his smoky grey eyes adjust. He frowns though it is all but lost in the darkness. Gently running a hand through his hair he winces as he feels the bruise underneath his pale hair. "Damn that bastard was mean…and now I'm awake in the dark with nothing to do…" He pouts sticking his lower lip out and looks at where he thinks the entrance might be willing with all his might that someone will show up before he goes mad from boredom.
It is dark outside the hovel now, but the night is clear and cold. Pale silver light cuts down through the space not occupied by shadowy buildings, and only a little of it makes its way hazily into the residence belonging to Tiberius. The prisoner - such as he is - would hear light-footed stepping in the room above him, scarcely causing a creak in the boards as the person moves. With the sound of the steps nearing, an exotic perfume drifts through the air once more, just as it did the night before. At last, Beryl comes to a stop at the gap above the safe where Alistair lies, and crouches on the ledge looking in. Her face is black with shadow, and obscured by the lackluster light. "Hellooo…" A small, silvery voice calls down, quietly.
Grey eyes look up in relief as the door to his prison opens. He smiles up at the woman sweetly. "My dear lady you have no idea how wonderful it is to see you….stuck alone in here is a worse fate than being at one of those stuffy gatherings my relatives always throw….I can't dance, I can't drink, I can't paint and my company is severely limited….you though you are a welcome sight." He grins and rises to his feet slowly and stands there watching her carefully. "I have to say you had me fooled with that trap you laid…But then I'm sure I would do it all over again for one so beautiful."
The woman gazing down upon Alistair remains silent as he speaks, tilting her head a little to one side. After his last remark, she allows herself an amused little giggle and then seats herself on the ledge so that her legs dangle down. Hooking her ankles one over the other, she swings thoughtfully for a moment and leans her chin on an upraised hand that balances on her knee: "You poor lamb," she remarks sympathetically. "I didn't want to muss your lovely hair with that brick, but you just wouldn't give up and go down." She continues, sweet as honey.
"How would it be if I were to join you?" The woman then asks quite innocently.
Alistair watches her intently and steps forward just a little. He frowns at the mention of being hit on the head but doesn't seem angry about it. "I have been known for my endurance but I admit that’s normally in a completely different context." He smiles brightly as she offers to join him. "I promise to be on my best behavior if you do. I would greatly appreciate it as well and likely have to find a way to thank you…" He smirks grey eyes glittering with mischief. "Though I can only wonder what you intend to do in here if you do join me?" That smile is playful now as he looks her over with an appreciative gaze.
"Oh, I could talk and listen. I could see to your poor head - if you're injured from the attack. I make a pretty decent nurse." Beryl says impishly from above.
Again, that delightful little light laugh carries down into Alistair's prison, and the woman shifts a bit on her seat above him. "I'll take you at your word on being a gentleman, but as a lady, I have my own… difficulties in preserving my reputation." A slight pause, and then in the silvery light, Alistair can surely see the black silk fabric now draped in the woman's hand - a blindfold. "If I come down to spend a little time with you and make your stay less dull, you have to wear this." She says playfully, now dangling the shiny fabric down to Alistair by one end. One can almost /hear/ the mischievous smirk in her voice.
Alistair grins when he sees the blindfold. "You want me helpless and unable to see what you are doing? That is interesting… but I think I can do it all the same. But please no more bricks or hitting me alright? I'm trusting this will be pleasant and not too painful?" He makes his way over as close as he can and turns around his eyes closing as well. "Come down and put it on for me? I won't peek." True to his word he remains with his eyes closed waiting for her next move.
There is a moment of silence from Beryl as she cants her head to one side and thinks about the offer. Alistair seems to be on the same page with her in this situation, though…
Lightly, the woman drops down into the 'dungeon' such as it is, and makes her way around behind the gentleman, sliding the blindfold between her hands as she moves. In a moment, Alistair would feel her warm body pressed against his from behind as she stands on tip-toe, and the cool, smooth fabric being slipped around his face to cover his eyes. Carefully, she knots it and then rests her hands on his shoulders to pull him down a little closer to her level: "So? Still hurting anywhere?"
Holding very still until the silk is over his eyes and tightened Alisatir can't help but smile as her body presses into his. The hands on his shoulder have him slowly dropping onto his knees. "My head I think there is a bruise there on the right side….No other injuries that I can feel minus my pride which is gravely wounded." His tone is somewhat playful near the end of that and he leans into the touches eagerly clearly glad not to be alone here anymore.
If Alistair had to fall into criminal and dastardly hands; he couldn't have possibly fallen into more pleasant ones, seemingly.
Beryl smirks devilishly as Alistair goes down on his knees to give her an easier means of examining his bruise. She is more petite than him by far. Ever so carefully, she leans in and runs her fingers through the young man's pale hair in such a way that she's probably trying to get a little shiver out of him. "Your bruise will heal soon enough," she says lightly, now actually planting a feather-light kiss on the place indicated with her soft lips. "I think you'll figure out a cure for your pride soon enough, though."
Letting her fingers brush along Alistair's cheek as she steps away from him just slightly, Beryl then remarks: "I suppose I shouldn't offer on an empty stomach - but I could get you a drink - something… uplifting."
A soft shiver does indeed run though Alistair's lean body as he is touched so gently and then kissed on the head. He sighs in relief as he hears the admission that he will heal soon. The next statement causes a brow to raise and a smirk to appear. "You think so? Would you be part of that cure then?" He leans into the touch to his cheek and pouts as it pulls back once again. He is never one to turn down a drink and the pout fades a little now. "A drink would be lovely thank you."
Beryl flashes an ironic half-smile that Alistair can't possibly see behind the blindfold. "I'm afraid the gentleman who was the brains and brawn behind your capture wouldn't like me to go /too/ far in curing what ails your ego," A beat, "Such a shame, too…"
Reaching into her handbag, the man can doubtless hear the sounds of smooth metal against metal as she withdraws a flask and removes the lid. Then, he would feel a soft, slender hand take his, raising it to place the flask into his grasp gently. If he's any kind of high-society, he can definitely detect the aroma of truly expensive whiskey drifting from the open vessel.
"So-" Beryl says, helping Alistair to quench his thirst. "What all did you and he talk about in my absence?"
"Surely you can keep a secret? I certainly won't tell if you won't?" Alistair smiles then, recognizing the smell of one of his favorite whiskeys. He takes a long drink from the flask and sighs happily. "You are amazing my dear…one of my favorites this is. How did you know have you been watching me as well?" He sounds amused by the thought of this and chuckles softly taking another slow drink from the flask. "Well he obviously doesn't like other men and refused my attempts at convincing him to see reason and not lock me in here alone. He told me I'm being held for ransom for a hundred galleons which I would pay myself if I could…can I pay my own ransom then?" He looks up hopefully but with those eye blocked the effect is rather limited.
Tiberius apparates in with a loud *Crack.* He's not safe in his own home, his wand out - His other hand holding a heavy duffel bag. Spying People in his safe, it's pointed at them, the curses coming to his mind - Only to realise that it's Beryl, and Alistair. "My Rose," Tiberius seems displeased. Obviously displeased. The tone of his voice at finding her here, alone… Knowing the evils that he has placed just next door. It's at himself, more than anything, but still.
A lilting little laugh escapes Beryl when Alistair explains the little discussion he and Tiberius had earlier. The failed attempt at negotiating his way out of the hole seems to amuse the lady highly. Again, she leans in and strokes her soft fingers along Alistair's jaw line, saying: "You poor lamb. You're just going to have to be patient and wait to see how the gentleman's plans proceed. I can only provide company and refreshment for my part."
A distinct crack is heard above them, and the woman's hand stops with a slight jump. Drawing back from Alistair, Beryl's own hand now goes to her dark wand. Sharp green eyes focus on the floor above them, but she has fallen silent.
The loud crack causes Alistair to jump slightly as well. If his eyes were visible they would be wide with fear. He clutches the flask in his hands and takes a deep drink. He can't quiet contain the whimper of nervous fear. "Please tell me that isn't the angry husband coming home? I really don't want to die today…I'm much too handsome to be a corpse you know….I will pay my own ransom even twice the amount you asked just don't kick my face in…or kill me…no maiming and no killing.." Another whimper leaves those full lips and he takes another drink trying in vain to stay calm.
"Indespectus." Tiberius taps his own arm lightly, the man turning completely invisible in a moment. Still in heavy leathers, the duffel bag is left, still visible, in the main room. A rustle indicates what may be inside of it. "Mr. Travers; we had a deal. If you've changed your mind, I'll have changed mine." Slow footsteps turn silent - Had he stopped, or just started walking quietly? The begging does put him at ease though, as he silently, invisibly leans over the edge. "Mr. Travers, if this were about money then I would have taken you from your home where I could liberate every knut you had. I'm afraid this is a matter of pride. Are you feeling optimistic about your meal?"
Beryl's expression fluctuates between wanting to shush Alistair and listen intensely, and trying not to be amused by his sheer terror. Upon realizing that the man upstairs is Tiberius, the woman also realizes that she wasn't breathing for a moment there. A small sigh escapes her lips, and she begins to relax. Stepping from the shadows, Tiberius' "Rose" comes into view and gazes up in the direction of his voice with a smirk. However, she says absolutely nothing just now.
"My pride has taken a massive blow already!" Alistair admits fearfully and with a little anger. He huffs and continues. "It doesn't need any more kicking it’s already down…." He whimpers again. A deep breath: "I'm slightly optimistic…I have a second cousin who is much more tolerable than the others we are fairly close too….Well did anyone offer to pay you the money and save my poor injured pride from further abuse?" He is so dramatic.
Tiberius smiles, flickering into view when all looks… Well, mildly disturbing, but safe. "… Rose, I would rather you not come by here alone. We are in a dangerous neighborhood." She could read it on his face. He's not telling her everything, but… He's a clandestine kind of guy. "Could you please bring our guest up? I have a promise to fulfill." The man returns to his duffel bag, unpacking it onto the small table. A cloche, a bottle of relatively drinkable whiskey, three glasses, and a dozen red roses all wait on the table.
It should be obvious what in particular is for Beryl.
Beryl's eyes narrow as they focus keenly on Tiberius. She hesitates a moment, wanting to say something… but she thinks better of it. Instead, she moves back to Alistair and gently takes his arm (while also taking her flask back from his hand). "Upsy-daisy," she says cheerily, urging him onto his feet.
Upon making it to the floor level, Beryl spies the various items on the table before her and ditches her charge rather abruptly. She's on the roses in an instant. They are gathered into her arms and she embraces the flowers with an absolutely uncharacteristically radiant smile. Drinking in their scent, a little "Mmm," slips out, and she turns to Tiberius. "They're /beautiful/."
Alistair rises shakily to his feet with Beryl's help, pouting when the flask is taken from him. Once he is out of the safe and Beryl releases him, he is all but sulking; his lower lip stuck out in a pout that would likely set records if anyone bothered to notice it. He sighs looking disappointed. "Well I certainly feel like the odd man out here..Please just ignore the poor blindfolded blond who can't see what going on here…I swear at this rate I'm going to have to retire from the business of being a dashing bachelor. The very thought makes me feel ill." He shudders and mutters the word commitment under his breath in fear.
"Without you, they're flowers." Tiberius' charm comes to the fore, so easily. Reaching up to stroke her cheek. "Please, my Rose. There's worse things around these parts than I've told you. Don't come here without me again. I don't want to lose you, so soon after finding you." It must be awkward. He turns to Alistair, and walks from her to ease him into his seat. Before he whips off the cloche, and reveals a gourmet roast meal. "You'll be eating blind, but eating well. Take your time. I'll pour you a whiskey; right hand." He states, pouring the whiskey into three glasses. "I swear. You've turned a simple kidnapping into a babysitting exercise." He jests, touching Alistair’s drink to his hand.
Poor Alistair's predicament seems to be wholly lost on Beryl for the moment. Now that Tiberius is there - and now that he's brought her flowers, of all things - she has eyes only for him and them. However, a hint of concern shows in her eyes as she peeks over the rose blossoms at the man. "Seems like you might owe me a few explanations," she then remarks softly, now taking a seat for herself.
Abruptly, to Alistair, Beryl asides with a 'shush': "You shouldn't worry so much. You're in good hands now and soon to leave, remember?"
Alistair appears rather grateful once he is sitting down and smiles faintly in the direction he thinks the person that helped him is in. He inhales and licks his lips smiling brightly. "You kept your word…thank you." He sounds sincere and then pouts at the comment. "I'm not helpless you know…If I could see I could manage just fine." He takes a slow drink and eases the glass back down, going about trying to find a fork to eat with. He is careful not to spill anything, his long fingers scanning the table with care trying to find what he is searching for.
"If the blindfold comes off, you'll lose your sight." Tiberius' threat is casual, as he pulls a chair over to Beryl. Sitting beside her, he offers her a whiskey as well, and nods. "I do. Long as you understand that unequivocally, if certain people find out I'm a dead man." A kiss is places against her cheek. He directs his next sentence at Alistair. "Besides, it's amusing to watch a blind man eat a fancy meal."
Still half hidden behind her beloved flowers, Beryl glances sidelong at Tiberius as he makes his remark and then kisses her. By way of replying, she flashes a half-smile that seems a little uncertain now. She has questions she'd like to have answered - but they will have to wait.
Lowering the flowers at last, she takes the whiskey glass offered into her slim hand and raises it to her lips. Alistair already nearly drained the good stuff from her flask, and so, this will have to do.
"So its dinner and a show, and I'm the show…lovely. I just want to eat in peace and I can't even have that…this must be punishment of some sort…but for what!?" Alistair whines softly, pouting once again. "I haven't done anything wrong….I don't think…" He tries to think of what he might have done to deserve this torment. He reaches for his whiskey glass. Managing to grab it, he knocks it back in one gulp. If you can't beat them get drunk instead, that seems to be the blonde’s motto at the moment…
Tiberius smiles to Beryl again, placing a gentle hand on her thigh. Perhaps indecently close, but the man in the room with them is blind, effectively. "I could have sworn, Mr. Travers that you were talking about sleeping with men's wives. Consider this your penance, and you'll be back to it in no time. The bottle is on your left. Just don't consume too much, else your confidence might lead you to stupidity." His eyes remain stuck on Beryl, adoring. Damned woman has stolen his heart.
So much fun at the expense of a poor blind man. Tiberius doubtless didn't mean for his little gesture toward Beryl to be additional torment for Alistair, but the feel of his hand on her thigh causes a little involuntary hint of a whimper to escape. A noise that can hardly be mistaken for much other than surprised pleasure.
Slightly shocked at her lack of self-control, Beryl quickly downs another sip of whiskey. However, out of sight, her much smaller, softer hand is pressed onto Tiberius' gently.
Now, Alistair clearly does have something to pout about.