psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

[hedgemaze]

THE AUBEL ESTATE is located in Derbyshire, England, a stately old home reminiscent of centuries long past. Long ago, it had fallen into disrepair and abandoned until previous generations of the Aubel family purchased the land for themselves, having found their fortunes in matters of real estate. Since that time, the outside has been restored and the inside has been renovated at least three times. Four, if you ask the uncle who remembers the one summer where the chandelier fell from the dining hall, taking a large portion of the ceiling with it. How embarrassing, if such a thing is true.

In its present state, it straddles the line between the old and new. The large, prominent rooms are ostentatious as they are filled to the brim with austere English culture; the smaller quarters, traditionally used by the servants and staff, are far more modest, and over time have allowed the tendrils of modernity to creep in as a result. Regardless, the home is impressive no matter how you look at it, and there are few who do not cast an envious glance at the estate as they pass by Derbyshire on their way to town, or perhaps northwest to Manchester, if they've even farther to go.

PHILIP AND JAMES AUBEL, father and son respectively, are the owners of the home, though only the father remains for any extended period of time. And even then, he only stays perhaps one or two seasons at a time, until he returns to his home in London, spending one or two seasons there, before returning again, living out his life of retirement to the fullest. James visits nearly every week (driving in from Manchester, and back) in the Spring, until the first freeze of Winter, when nothing will grow. Though they have a staff of two dozen -- give or take, depending upon the time of year -- taking care of the estate and its grounds, James is more diligent about keeping up appearances of the house, showing a special interest in maintaining the complex hedge maze on the land directly behind them. Only he keeps access to its center, a literal walled garden of seasonal flora.

AS RECENT DEVELOPMENTS WOULD HAVE IT, James has been drawn into an arranged marriage by his father and an old business acquaintance. She is scheduled for an extended visit soon, and the staff have done a meticulous job of preparing the hall for her arrival -- and the rest of the rooms, as well, if she is expected to make her living here permanent, one day. Today, the weather is clear and the help is eager to aid her in unpacking. The grounds are green and the family dog, an old greyhound with cataracts in one eye, bounds up to her with a slow wagging tail. The father will greet her, of course, with all the usual formalities, and though he doesn't know her all that well at all, she at least seems nice enough. He disappears soon after, leaving her to her own devices as she sees fit. James himself is nowhere to be found.

Somewhere, sooner rather than later, a collision course of first impressions will take place.

----------

D I R E C T O R Y;

➤ shitpost.
➤ first impressions.
➤ diamonds.
➤ text her, texter.
➤ saviour.
➤ flirt.
➤ closer.
➤ cross-examine.
➤ PARTY CRASHERS.
✶ elle + devon
✶ elle + corvus
✶ ian + james + corvus
✶ devon + james
➤ alien abduction.
➤ sleep now.
➤ bathe.
➤ remember.
➤ drink.
➤ welcome home.

Comments

[winterheart]

Yeah, I betcha are.

[Even their bartender has to laugh at the expected silliness and crudeness.

Devon uses one hand to pull her hair back and the other remains at her side.]

Ready when you are.

[hedgemaze]

Ha... [He's mildly surprised at her forwardness, and is about to make a sharp remark, but you know what? Maybe he'll hold his tongue for now on the subject.] No comment.

[But now to tackle the shot. Hands still clasped behind his back, James gives pause, and then...]

Go.

[And down he goes, grasping at the edge of the shot glass with his teeth, then tilting his upper body and head upwards in an attempt to drink.

What a fool he must look like, but what fun it is to be one with her. He's pretty sure that whip cream is going to end up mostly on his nose at this rate. But what did it matter? He can feel himself losing the ability to care, inhibitions slowly beginning to drift away with each bar they visit, with each drink they take.]

[winterheart]

[Devon gets her mouth around the shot glass and then downs the drink, throwing her head back. Oh god, the whipped cream definitely went up her nose and when her head goes back down to put the glass down on the counter, she's struggling not to cough. There's a look of absolute delight at the fact that they just took this shot together in such a stupidly fun way though.

One hand is covering her face, shaking her head.]

There is nothing I can say or do that won't be used against me because of this.

[hedgemaze]

[It goes down easily enough, not burning as much as the first, and James somehow manages to keep from making a complete mess of his face.

He puts the glass down on the counter, still with his teeth, and when he straightens he's laughing at her.]

This was your idea. [-he says, with a bit of whip cream stuck on the tip of his nose.]

Oh, and you've got Blow Job on your face. [He can't resist... He just can't. And, by the way, it's true -- she's got a bit on the corner of her mouth, there, a little dollop of whip cream.]

[winterheart]

[Devon raises a brow with a, "Hm?" before using her finger to wipe off the whipped cream on the corner of her mouth...

And then she spreads it across her lips before pulling James towards her, bringing him into a kiss where he can taste the sweetness on the surface.]

[hedgemaze]

[And so he’s pulled into the kiss, surprised — he can feel the sweetness on her lips, and the taste of alcohol between the both of them.

Bloody hell, is she trying to make me lose it? the thought courses through his head, and yet he’s hardly complaining.

It takes a bit more willpower than usual to pull himself away from her completely. When he does, he notes that he’s transferred the bit of whip cream from his nose to hers.]

What a dirty girl.

[In the midst of the bar, such comments are lost in how commonplace they are. The atmosphere exudes and exemplifies his teasing nature. (And so does the alcohol.)]

[winterheart]

[Devon just smiles when he pulls himself away and she wipes the cream on her nose with the back of her hand.]

Didn't think we could go through the night without at least one of those right? Full experience, like I said.

[hedgemaze]

[A finger comes up to brush the whip cream off of his own nose. He brings it to his mouth, and then it's gone.]

Full experience, indeed. I hope you don't end up making me look like too much more of a fool for the rest of the night, though?

[winterheart]

[Damn.

The majority of the time, Devon can stand rather firm around James, but there are other times, like this where she may actually consider losing their bet intentionally. But the night's only part way done and the buzz of alcohol is only barely simmering within her.]

Well, I make no promises, but you can at least take refuge in the fact that I'm being a fool with you.

[Onto the next joint.]

* * *

[... Well, this is... Troubling. Funny, but troubling for James and Devon as she looks at her glass and then back at her fiance.

They're at their last stop, the sixth pub they've visited. It's smaller, quieter, somewhat more intimate as the night life begins to die down and people are starting to go home to nurse what has to be nasty hangovers for the next morning. Speaking of which...

Devon... Feels fine. Mostly fine. She's standing up straight and her cheeks do feel much, much warmer, her words have probably gotten looser as the night went on, but otherwise, she's certain this isn't what feeling plastered was like.

As for James...]

... Honey? Want me to call the driver for us now?

[hedgemaze]

[James Aubel is officially pissed.

He's leaning with his elbows on the counter, staring down at the drink before him. His cheeks feel warm, so warm, and everything around him seems to be obscured with a very delightful sort of haze. It feels good, but it's hard to focus. Difficult for him to filter the words that come to his mouth, and more and more often he's just letting them fly loose.

Her question registers, and he kind of squints at Devon for a bit.]

What...? No... no, we're not done yet.

[It's almost 3 am, the bars are closing soon, James.]

You... [He gestures at her, looking indignant, hilariously so.] You haven't won yet... Devon.

[winterheart]

[Devon takes a long sip from her mug, finishing it off. She looks down at him shaking her head.]

How many fingers am I holding up?

[Spoilers, none.]

[hedgemaze]

Two.

[He answers immediately. Confidently. Definitely two fingers.

...God, the room is starting to turn.]





Ugh. This is hardly fair. Bloody hell.

[winterheart]

What's not fair? I'm pretty sure that we drank the same amount of booze.

I'm just winning.

[hedgemaze]

[An arm comes up again to wave in her general direction. Was it at her chest? Difficult to tell with a drunken James.

Still, he’s holding onto just enough sense to not let slip what it is he wants to say.]

Just… you’re not fair. Standing there, looking perfect, after six stops. It’s inhuman. You cheated.

[Cheated!! ….god, his head.]

[winterheart]

Well, it's fair, don't be wrong about that one now.

[She takes another sip, swishing around her drink in her mouth before swallowing and evaluating her current state.]

Inhuman? I'm beginning to think you're onto something.

[hedgemaze]

[He lets out a groan. He's probably said too much; he's not sure. But his list of priorities are all jumbled up now, and all James does in response is put his head on the cool bar counter, resting on crossed arms.

Finally, a muffled:]

You're not even closed to pissed. [He can tell. He can feel it himself, and he's finding himself selfishly borrowing a bit of that clear-headedness for his own sake.]

[winterheart]

I feel warm and fuzzy inside, that's what.

[But he's right, especially if she's quipping back that quickly. Devon reaches over to pat his cheek.]

Looks like I get to sleep peacefully tonight. Shame, really.

[Is she gloating? MAYBE]

[hedgemaze]

[He tries to rustle up the energy to protest, but then he decides it isn't worth it. James isn't fooling anyone by proclaiming that he can continue.

He tries to brush off her hand. It's a half-hearted gesture.]

Your loss. Truly is a shame. ...Your loss. [You just said that.]

[winterheart]

Mm hm.

[Gonna be texting their driver the street to meet on so that he can drive up to them.]

I'd offer you some consoling, but I think it's important we all see tonight as a learning experience.

[hedgemaze]

Learning... ex... perience? Ha.

[He lifts his head to look at her, and even plastered, his smug smile is nearly the same as it was before.]

What? To make bets that only you know you can win?

[To be fair, he was pretty confident with this one.]

Regardless, I'll still take a bit of consoling from you.

[He just never stops. He's just less eloquent about it when he's drunk.]

[winterheart]

[She finishes off her text without looking at James' as to not humor him, but just pats him on the shoulder.]

I'll think about it on the way home.

For now, can you stand and walk? I don't expect a straight line, but let's see how you do so we can meet up with the driver.

[hedgemaze]

You mean you aren't going to carry me?

[It's meant to be a joke, but when he stands (quite suddenly, as if to prove a point), he's a little wobbly. He has to keep his hand on the bar to stay stable.]

Standing and walking... just bloody fine.

[winterheart]

... I'm so sorry.

[Devon sighs, and takes one arm, slinging it over her shoulders.]

I feel like it would have taken me two or three more pubs to bring me down. I honestly had no idea I would still be standing.

[hedgemaze]

[He groans a bit, but accepts her help. He's definitely going to need it, and so he leans against her.]

No... no, it's not your fault. Don't think that it is.

[He knows that it isn't. She doesn't even know, does she?]

[winterheart]

[And she leads them outside the pub after their tab is paid, keeping him close to her.]

I feel a little bad because I had fun. Think you'll be okay in the morning? I can... You know help out.