finalflight | psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

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psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

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.

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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.

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[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.

[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.]

Two.

[He answers immediately. Confidently. Definitely two fingers.

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

Ugh. This is hardly fair. Bloody hell.

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

I'm just winning.

[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.]

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.

[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.]

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]

[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.]

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.

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.]

[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.

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.

... 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.

Edited 2016-12-20 04:19 (UTC)

[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?]

[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.

[He waves a hand dismissively, and the cold night air would almost be refreshing if he weren't so plastered.]

I'm fine. I'm fine, Devon. I... recover from this sort of thing quickly. Always... always have.

[They reach the street they're going to meet the driver in and Devon stops them under a lamppost.]

I'll be fine if I give it a fix, you know?

[A beat.]

... I wonder if that's the reason why it's hard to get drunk...

[He continues to lean on her. She's warm. She smells good, and he's sleepy. He could just nap in her arms, if she'd let him.]

Hm? ...You mean... [Your heart? By some way of miracle, he bites his tongue.] Your special talents?

[Devon nods. There's not a lot of people around to listen in on their conversation, but it's best to be vague about such things (even though she has no idea that James knows more than her).]

I mean, it explains a lot if if you think about it. Kind of an involuntary system maintenance?

[She gestures with her hand and shrugs, leaning against James slightly.]

Whatever. I'm just glad we got to go drinking like heathens together.

Ssee? You admit it. Cheating.

[He prods at her shoulder to highlight his point, but he doesn't sound annoyed.]

It was... fun. I think. Ask me again later. Pretty sure that the... ah, the shots... The shots, they tasted like bollocks.

[He's exaggerating, but he's also drunk, so the two go hand in hand.]

It's not cheating if I was only vaguely aware of it. That means I won.

[Their car can be seen in the distance, slowly driving up to them.]

C'mon, you enjoyed at least one of those shots.

[YOU KNOW THE ONE.]

Mm. Are you teasing me? You're teasing me. [He grins.] Careful, or I'll... I'll get you back for it later.

[Not a very triumphant sort of threat, coming from someone so wobbly on his feet.

Finally, the car comes around, and the both of them manage to pile into the back (with a bit of help from Devon, no less). The driver arches a brow at the state of the youngest Aubel, but if he has anything to say about it, he keeps it to himself. There's a spark of amusement, though, as he asks, "Back home, then?"]

If it makes you feel better, I thought about losing intentionally?

[Devon grins and gives a thumbs up at the driver with a nod. When the car starts, she pats James' shoulder.]

Hey. You can lay in my lap if you want.

If you did... we would have had a different sort of fun.

[He chuckles, but when she invites him to rest his head on her lap, James doesn't hesitate to do so. He lies down across the backseat and finds that, when he does take her up on her offer, she feels quite warm. Comforting.

He's looking straight up at her. He feels like he could fall asleep like this.]

You know... Devon... you may have to carry me to my bedroom at this rate. If you take terrible advantage of me after you do, well... I can keep a secret.

[James... he never changes. And right in front of their driver, too.]

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