[A simple, quiet morning, unduly interrupted. That is the Holmes way; one need only ask his roommate Watson to verify, not that such a thing is possible now.
But indeed, they are mirror images of each other, as neither shows signs of surprise. She, that he is here; and Holmes, that she is not shocked to see him. The detective's lips flash a flicker of a smile. For his part, he is dressed plainly but on the verge of smart casual—clean, pressed slacks and a white button-up—as his Victorian habit dictates. (And even this feels painfully odd to him, but that is neither here nor there.)]
Ms Aglaea. Do forgive the intrusion. I would have called upon you first, but [I JUST DECIDED NOT TO TBH] I was already in the area. I hope I'm not interrupting...?
[Hm, based on what he observes, he does not appear to have interrupted anything particulary pressing.]
[ Her own smile grows a touch wider as she listens. Although potentially not a lie, there's something about his defense that feels, well, perhaps not wholly truthful. The smile betrays an affection or an amusement, small as the glimmer of emotions is within her. ]
I wouldn't say that.
[ Unlike Holmes, Aglaea has adapted to the modern fashion from her own arrival, but perhaps there's something to be said about the timelessness of men's fashion. Not that she has donned her old garb much (if at all) since her arrival when her closet was far thinner. Smartly dressed in a mustard turtleneck and brown pants, her head rests briefly on the edge of the door as she regards him. ]
Would you like to come in out of the cold, Holmes? I confess, my room is somewhat disorganized, but if you can look past that....
[ Her room is not just a bit disorganized. It very much looks like she has converted it into a tailor's shop that she slapped a bed into. Someday she will have a clean motel room to call her own. ...Maybe! But, if he agrees, she'll open the door wider for him for elaboration. ]
[It is a little white lie, and one he does not mind spinning even if she can see it. For what it's worth, let her interpret it as proof of his eagerness — which is indeed sincere in every movement, in even the lilting manner of his speech.]
Come now, disorganization is often proof that one's mind is focused elsewhere, on more compelling things. You should see the state of 221B when a particularly interesting case is brewing.
[Though that, too, is mostly Holmes' fault more than it ever is Watson's, much to the chagrin of their poor landlady.
Anyway, he does nod and step in, and it is clear that the "bit" was an understatement. But he rather likes having things to observe and pick apart; clearly this is more a tailor's outfit than a living quarters, which says something for the aforementioned priorities.]
And here I thought you were going into the bathhouse business. Are we feeling entrepreneurial enough to... [Pokes at a random bolt of cloth nearby.] ...also look into becoming a seamstress?
[ Since her last visitor, the room has gotten better and worse in different directions. Clothing of all manner hangs from different spots; some disassembled and pressed, others still in good shape. The makeshift, PVC pipe hanging rack at the back of her room has become thick with clothing – shirts, skirts, dresses and more, their qualities dubious. Two mismatched tables are pressed together at the side, but it's clear her bed is the largest workspace available, and not forgotten in its usefulness.
Bolts are here and there in the room, thanks to the improved access to Acreage and crafting cloths, but it's not nearly as many as she'd like. Instead, it seems Aglaea has fashioned a great deal of her clothing by salvaging the uglier or filthier things she'd found at the second hand store into her own works of art. Amidst the crafting of clothes, Holmes may also spot some knitting projects and small, patchwork dolls.
Although fabric drapes the scene, small things like loose threads or wrinkles are decidedly left out. Her kitchen area is immaculate and unperturbed by the fashion tornado.
She laughs softly as he takes in the many sights of clothing. ] I confess, as I have spent more time in this city, it occurred to me that I am too particular with my Romance to let it become a commodity. Tea?
[ Water freshly boiled, it wouldn't be hard to pour. ]
Come now, I spy a meticulous nature amid all this chaos.
[Indeed, he could run a parallel against his own tendencies, that there is reason among the chaos, a precise pattern to which only his own mind knows and adheres, though it might be indecipherable to an outsider. Amid all the clothing and reassembled fabrics made into something far more wearable, he knows this, too, must be case. Aglaea never struck him as a careless sort; and this is not a careless kind of mess. Especially given that there are places deliberately immune to the disorder, such as the immaculate kitchen.]
That may lend itself to business more than you believe, though if the heart isn't in it, I will admit there is little point.
[Ah, tea though. It is tempting, but Holmes raises a hand to figuratively nudge the notion away.]
I hope you'll forgive the audacity, but no. Indeed, I have not come here for a sit-down chat — but rather, to see if you were interested in something with a bit more excitement, and a venture that would take our feet to the cobblestone [or asphalt] sooner rather than later.
[ No sense delving into the complication of Aglaea's Romance and her finicky nature for dress. Always in the back of her mind, dreams of a tailor shop buzzed. If it came up, she might elucidate her feelings more plainly. For now, he's right: there's little point.
Her head tilts slightly as his hand goes up before her arm wraps around her chest and opposite fingers touch her lip, curious about the intentions he has for his visit. The paints them... in a fog, she would describe. Even from the first offer, it's a dangle of intrigue, no doubt a mind seeking another like-mind out. Her smile flutters behind her hand. ]
Excitement? At my age, excitement is more often a mask for trouble. [ But she's teasing. Her hand flicks away from her mouth and reveals her soft smile. ]
I suppose I could change my daily routines for something new. Let me fetch my things. [ Barely through her sentence, she starts to move around her room. Wallet, keys, a bag with only a few items within it. Her finished clothes are revealed for a moment as she searches her closet for the beautiful and warm jacket made with mismatched black fabrics. Her golden hair will be wrapped in a knitted hat shortly. ]
Excitement and trouble are oft intertwined, but that makes the venture all the more valuable if there’s a twinge of danger to it.
[All the best mysteries are the ones that refuse to be unravelled, and sometimes violently at that. But this is only ever a reason to push forward, to ferret out the truth with stubbornness, and he is glad that she seems quite willing to entertain him.
Indeed, it did not seem to take much effort at all.
It is not like a gentleman to hurry a lady—well, most of the time, anyway—and so Holmes will patiently watch her gather her things, all the while making use of the passing seconds to continue their conversation. He’s grateful for her eagerness, of course, but it is equally intriguing to see. It reminds him a bit of Watson, who never fails to join him when he asks, though it is not as though Aglaea has the opportunity of knowing him for years to have earned that trust.]
You’re quite quick to agree. Do you not even wish to learn the details behind the request before rushing out the door with me, or does a mystery truly compel you that much?
[ Unknown to her, in other lives, Aglaea has been many things. Still, always, a woman draining of her humanities, but now and again, a more vibrant woman; one who abandoned her home and follow a Kitten into the shadow of adventure. Is the Diadem not just another life she is learning to lead, without the burden of politics or responsibility?
So, when he points out her eagerness, a small, sincere smile glimmers through as she bends over a drawer with her things. It is a skosh embarrassing. She straightens to "see" him, always a little performed, but clearly for trying. She coils a scarf around her neck as she speaks. ]
I suppose I simply have a good feeling about your proposal, and my sewing can always wait for another time. It would be rather rude to waste your time with indecision which is not there.
However, [ she leans forward slightly, expectant but charming, ] that doesn't mean I expect no elucidation from you, Holmes.
[And he meets that charming request with a flickering grin of his own, the sort that reveals it doesn't take much imploring for Holmes to elucidate. No, when it comes to the potential for setting off into the bramble of an intriguing mystery, his willingness to share might be well-hidden at first, but in reality is spring-loaded and ready launch itself off his tongue at first opportunity.
Case in point:]
I admit that I require your presence not only for the good company it offers, but for a more practical means — your "sight", unique as it is, will aid in a problem that I've been working on for a few days now. It is a missing-persons case revolving around a stage actress who disappeared mid-performance before an audience of hundreds.
[He lets that settle—lets that tease—before he continues.]
[ Suitable dressed, suitably dazzling, she fluffs her hair around her scarf and listens quietly to his tale. ]
Interesting, [ she says, impassive at first, but there is a curiosity that will slip into her voice. ] I do enjoy finding things.
[ Maybe some day she'll talk of her incidental passion for scavenger hunts. She gestures toward the door, clearly already on this wild ride. It will be locked behind them before they set out officially.. ]
I seem to recall, the supernatural is somewhat unusual for you; but it seems quite common here. You didn't happen to rule out magics already, have you?
He huffs, raising a hand to waggle it, following her out once she's ready. After that, Holmes deigns to take the lead, immediately striding away with the assumption that she will follow in turn.]
None who runs the theater, nor who is currently employed or contracted by it, has a whiff of magic about them. Or so they say. I admit, I remain at a disadvantage in this world, which frustrates me — how am I supposed to differentiate and identify when and how magic comes into the equation?
[There could be a thread of it underlying something subtle, difficult for him to parse or see through mundane eyes.]
That is why it helps to have connections who may observe the world through a different lens. Such as yourself, my dear.
I see... [ She muses, her step matching his with (mildly) eager stride. Her head is turned toward him as they walk, mostly just so that her voice is clear; her eyes always looking past that which she "looks" at. ]
You're making good use of your resources, then, Holmes. I think I may be just the woman for a job like this. Depending on what's in store, I'm sure I could uncover at least some small clue that you might make good use of, magic or mundane.
[ She smiles a little, musing on an old memory. It's been some time since she's been to the theater, although what Holmes intends is certainly different from the theaters of Okhema, open aired as they are. ]
[Out and down the sidewalk they go, with Holmes seeming to know exactly where he's going, though that much is of little surprise. Indeed, he notes how she glances his way, as if to make conversation all the easier. But all the while, he thinks, she must be sensing what lies beyond their path — like a spider knowing what exists at the end of its web.]
That is precisely what I am hoping for. Now, it will be just a brisk walk a few blocks down, and I can put your assistance to the true test.
[In the interim, however, he gestures at her.]
But until then... Tell me, how have been since we last spoke?
Good, I think. [ The statement is plain, practiced. She rests her second and third finger against her sternum as she considers the statement. At times, it can be challenging to know how she is feeling. "Good" isn't so inaccurate. ]
I wish I could say that the bathhouse was proceeding apace, but the contractor which was hired for the property is... difficult, to say it simply. We rarely see eye to eye. But, I would not call it the first time which things have taken longer than I might have liked. So it is.
Besides that... I think I have settled into my place here rather well, for what it is. I painted this city far worse than it has treated me since my arrival.
[Good, she thinks? Which means that there is wiggle-room for her to be less-than-good, Holmes muses, though he needn't nudge her for more information. She offers it willingly enough.]
"Difficult." [He echoes.] Difficult how? I am not in the business of dealing with contractors, but might I assume that they prioritize affordability over your own vision for the bathhouse?
[Or is there some other issue...? He cannot help but wonder. (And be nosy about it.)]
[ Eventually she might touch on her, uh, emotional problems. Given how mild she is about most things, they may become more evident over time. ]
The deal I brokered put me into contact with a patron and allows me to afford a nice establishment. While the business is largely mine to operate, my patron saw fit to assign me with a contractor who manages the upkeep of the facility, including the initial restoration of the plumbing.
I've been more of a babysitter in my own business, since he won't do maintenance without me present, and I can't easily afford to get by without continuing my own work outside the venue.
[ She exhales. ] It's trifling things. Petty even.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But indeed, they are mirror images of each other, as neither shows signs of surprise. She, that he is here; and Holmes, that she is not shocked to see him. The detective's lips flash a flicker of a smile. For his part, he is dressed plainly but on the verge of smart casual—clean, pressed slacks and a white button-up—as his Victorian habit dictates. (And even this feels painfully odd to him, but that is neither here nor there.)]
Ms Aglaea. Do forgive the intrusion. I would have called upon you first, but [I JUST DECIDED NOT TO TBH] I was already in the area. I hope I'm not interrupting...?
[Hm, based on what he observes, he does not appear to have interrupted anything particulary pressing.]
no subject
I wouldn't say that.
[ Unlike Holmes, Aglaea has adapted to the modern fashion from her own arrival, but perhaps there's something to be said about the timelessness of men's fashion. Not that she has donned her old garb much (if at all) since her arrival when her closet was far thinner. Smartly dressed in a mustard turtleneck and brown pants, her head rests briefly on the edge of the door as she regards him. ]
Would you like to come in out of the cold, Holmes? I confess, my room is somewhat disorganized, but if you can look past that....
[ Her room is not just a bit disorganized. It very much looks like she has converted it into a tailor's shop that she slapped a bed into. Someday she will have a clean motel room to call her own. ...Maybe! But, if he agrees, she'll open the door wider for him for elaboration. ]
no subject
Come now, disorganization is often proof that one's mind is focused elsewhere, on more compelling things. You should see the state of 221B when a particularly interesting case is brewing.
[Though that, too, is mostly Holmes' fault more than it ever is Watson's, much to the chagrin of their poor landlady.
Anyway, he does nod and step in, and it is clear that the "bit" was an understatement. But he rather likes having things to observe and pick apart; clearly this is more a tailor's outfit than a living quarters, which says something for the aforementioned priorities.]
And here I thought you were going into the bathhouse business. Are we feeling entrepreneurial enough to... [Pokes at a random bolt of cloth nearby.] ...also look into becoming a seamstress?
no subject
Bolts are here and there in the room, thanks to the improved access to Acreage and crafting cloths, but it's not nearly as many as she'd like. Instead, it seems Aglaea has fashioned a great deal of her clothing by salvaging the uglier or filthier things she'd found at the second hand store into her own works of art. Amidst the crafting of clothes, Holmes may also spot some knitting projects and small, patchwork dolls.
Although fabric drapes the scene, small things like loose threads or wrinkles are decidedly left out. Her kitchen area is immaculate and unperturbed by the fashion tornado.
She laughs softly as he takes in the many sights of clothing. ] I confess, as I have spent more time in this city, it occurred to me that I am too particular with my Romance to let it become a commodity. Tea?
[ Water freshly boiled, it wouldn't be hard to pour. ]
no subject
[Indeed, he could run a parallel against his own tendencies, that there is reason among the chaos, a precise pattern to which only his own mind knows and adheres, though it might be indecipherable to an outsider. Amid all the clothing and reassembled fabrics made into something far more wearable, he knows this, too, must be case. Aglaea never struck him as a careless sort; and this is not a careless kind of mess. Especially given that there are places deliberately immune to the disorder, such as the immaculate kitchen.]
That may lend itself to business more than you believe, though if the heart isn't in it, I will admit there is little point.
[Ah, tea though. It is tempting, but Holmes raises a hand to figuratively nudge the notion away.]
I hope you'll forgive the audacity, but no. Indeed, I have not come here for a sit-down chat — but rather, to see if you were interested in something with a bit more excitement, and a venture that would take our feet to the cobblestone [or asphalt] sooner rather than later.
no subject
Her head tilts slightly as his hand goes up before her arm wraps around her chest and opposite fingers touch her lip, curious about the intentions he has for his visit. The paints them... in a fog, she would describe. Even from the first offer, it's a dangle of intrigue, no doubt a mind seeking another like-mind out. Her smile flutters behind her hand. ]
Excitement? At my age, excitement is more often a mask for trouble. [ But she's teasing. Her hand flicks away from her mouth and reveals her soft smile. ]
I suppose I could change my daily routines for something new. Let me fetch my things. [ Barely through her sentence, she starts to move around her room. Wallet, keys, a bag with only a few items within it. Her finished clothes are revealed for a moment as she searches her closet for the beautiful and warm jacket made with mismatched black fabrics. Her golden hair will be wrapped in a knitted hat shortly. ]
no subject
[All the best mysteries are the ones that refuse to be unravelled, and sometimes violently at that. But this is only ever a reason to push forward, to ferret out the truth with stubbornness, and he is glad that she seems quite willing to entertain him.
Indeed, it did not seem to take much effort at all.
It is not like a gentleman to hurry a lady—well, most of the time, anyway—and so Holmes will patiently watch her gather her things, all the while making use of the passing seconds to continue their conversation. He’s grateful for her eagerness, of course, but it is equally intriguing to see. It reminds him a bit of Watson, who never fails to join him when he asks, though it is not as though Aglaea has the opportunity of knowing him for years to have earned that trust.]
You’re quite quick to agree. Do you not even wish to learn the details behind the request before rushing out the door with me, or does a mystery truly compel you that much?
no subject
So, when he points out her eagerness, a small, sincere smile glimmers through as she bends over a drawer with her things. It is a skosh embarrassing. She straightens to "see" him, always a little performed, but clearly for trying. She coils a scarf around her neck as she speaks. ]
I suppose I simply have a good feeling about your proposal, and my sewing can always wait for another time. It would be rather rude to waste your time with indecision which is not there.
However, [ she leans forward slightly, expectant but charming, ] that doesn't mean I expect no elucidation from you, Holmes.
no subject
Case in point:]
I admit that I require your presence not only for the good company it offers, but for a more practical means — your "sight", unique as it is, will aid in a problem that I've been working on for a few days now. It is a missing-persons case revolving around a stage actress who disappeared mid-performance before an audience of hundreds.
[He lets that settle—lets that tease—before he continues.]
no subject
Interesting, [ she says, impassive at first, but there is a curiosity that will slip into her voice. ] I do enjoy finding things.
[ Maybe some day she'll talk of her incidental passion for scavenger hunts. She gestures toward the door, clearly already on this wild ride. It will be locked behind them before they set out officially.. ]
I seem to recall, the supernatural is somewhat unusual for you; but it seems quite common here. You didn't happen to rule out magics already, have you?
[ Somehow, she figures he has. ]
no subject
He huffs, raising a hand to waggle it, following her out once she's ready. After that, Holmes deigns to take the lead, immediately striding away with the assumption that she will follow in turn.]
None who runs the theater, nor who is currently employed or contracted by it, has a whiff of magic about them. Or so they say. I admit, I remain at a disadvantage in this world, which frustrates me — how am I supposed to differentiate and identify when and how magic comes into the equation?
[There could be a thread of it underlying something subtle, difficult for him to parse or see through mundane eyes.]
That is why it helps to have connections who may observe the world through a different lens. Such as yourself, my dear.
no subject
You're making good use of your resources, then, Holmes. I think I may be just the woman for a job like this. Depending on what's in store, I'm sure I could uncover at least some small clue that you might make good use of, magic or mundane.
[ She smiles a little, musing on an old memory. It's been some time since she's been to the theater, although what Holmes intends is certainly different from the theaters of Okhema, open aired as they are. ]
no subject
That is precisely what I am hoping for. Now, it will be just a brisk walk a few blocks down, and I can put your assistance to the true test.
[In the interim, however, he gestures at her.]
But until then... Tell me, how have been since we last spoke?
no subject
I wish I could say that the bathhouse was proceeding apace, but the contractor which was hired for the property is... difficult, to say it simply. We rarely see eye to eye. But, I would not call it the first time which things have taken longer than I might have liked. So it is.
Besides that... I think I have settled into my place here rather well, for what it is. I painted this city far worse than it has treated me since my arrival.
no subject
"Difficult." [He echoes.] Difficult how? I am not in the business of dealing with contractors, but might I assume that they prioritize affordability over your own vision for the bathhouse?
[Or is there some other issue...? He cannot help but wonder. (And be nosy about it.)]
no subject
The deal I brokered put me into contact with a patron and allows me to afford a nice establishment. While the business is largely mine to operate, my patron saw fit to assign me with a contractor who manages the upkeep of the facility, including the initial restoration of the plumbing.
I've been more of a babysitter in my own business, since he won't do maintenance without me present, and I can't easily afford to get by without continuing my own work outside the venue.
[ She exhales. ] It's trifling things. Petty even.