Bartleby in his room

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Bartleby in his room

By this time, Bartleby has tried everything he can think of on the lock. It won't budge. He's started pacing, his wings twitching. There is nothing to do other than think about what he is, what he's done. He shakes his head violently, trying to knock the memories loose, and unfurls his wings.

It takes him a moment to realise why they feel different. He's... he's been clipped.

[OOC: Waiting for

muddypetticoats]

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*Elizabeth hurries through the back area of Milliways, slowing as she approaches the door to Bartleby's room. Drawing a deep breath to brace herself, she places her ear to the door and listens. After a moment, she raises her hand to knock.*

Bartleby?

*there is the sound of a sharply indrawn breath from within the room*

...Liz?

*She raises her voice so as to be heard clearly through the door.*

Yes. Are you clothed, or at least covered? I do not know in what state they placed you in there.

I'm... clothed.

Liz, what are you...?

Then I am coming in.

*She does so, pulling the door behind her. She flinches at the click of the latch.*

Hello, Bartleby.

*Bartleby's eyes are wide and frightened*

...Hello, Miss Bennet.

Mr Black was so good as to give me the key to the door. I have one hour before he comes in search of me and it. You would be well-advised not to try anything rash, Bartleby, lest you make your situation more precarious.

*She steps further into the room, masking her unease as best as she can.*

Mr Black wished to send an escort with me, but I told him he need not bother, as I can prove as intimidating as anyone else when I wish to be.

I wouldn't - *stops, looks stricken* - I won't hurt you. Anymore.

I must own that I find that somewhat of a relief, although I still am unable to fathom the cause of your previous behavior.

*She looks at him sharply.*

There was no cause. *Bartleby sinks to the bed* What, you think you or Ingress gave me a reason to hurt you?

*his face twists*

I don't need a fucking reason.

There is a purpose for everything, Bartleby. There is never not a reason. We were not placed upon this earth to shift aimlessly, least of all here at Milliways. In this place, everyone has a reason, whether or not it is readily apparent to them when they arrive. You are not an exception, Bartleby, and I will tell you precisely what I told Mr Gadling some nights ago: If you are searching for pity, you will not receive it from this quarter, as you have done nothing to earn it.

Pity? *he looks incredulous* You think I think I deserve pity?

*She looks at him evenly.*

No, I do not. Do not mistake my words, Bartleby. I do not pity you, because you have done nothing to show yourself worthy of such a sentiment.

[OOC: which is why I'm so incredulous that you would think that i would be under the impression that I deserved pity. It's a convoluted sentence. *grins*]

[OOC: Huzzah for the joys of a COMPLETE AND TOTAL LACK OF VOCAL INFLECTION over the Internet. Just play along from there. 'Convoluted' ain't even the half of it.]

Don't mistake mine, Miss Bennet. I've never even considered pity from anyone.

~~Even though yesterday, he gave me that, and more.~~

*She raises an eyebrow.*

Remarkable. Perhaps you deserve more credit than I have given you, Bartleby, although certainly not much at that.

I am still waiting for my explanation. I leave tonight to return to my time, and I should very much like to depart with at least some knowledge as to the cause of your recent reprehensible behaviour. I do not wish to leave this place believing my first friend here to be the hateful cur his actions would make him seem.

*Bartleby flinches imperceptibly, but looks Liz straight in the face*

I repeat, Miss Bennet: I have no excuses.

*She surveys him coldly.*

Then you are either more stubborn, or a bigger fool than I had previously believed. Until you are able to own up to the causes of your actions, you shall never be able to prevent their repetition, and no amount of moping or professed shame shall be of service to you.

I experienced much guilt following your debilitation, Bartleby, but now I must confess that my only present guilt is that I did not slap you with more force or frequency.

What causes? *is becoming agitated* I'm unstable, if that's what you mean. Little, ridiculous things will push me over the edge.

There's no reason. There's nothing that can be fixed.

*She looks at him incredulously.*

I find it impossible to believe that you could in all seriousness, think such a thing. You are simply making excuses for your lack of self-control.

You are not so bad as you would wish people to believe, Bartleby, only a complete and utter fool.

I'm not making excuses! I've just said there are no excuses!

[OOC: Storm out, will you? I must sleep.]

*She responds icily.*

You have said yourself that your actions stemmed from a gross instability on your part. If that is not the most blatant excuse I have ever heard, I shall be very much surprised.

I had hoped to reach some form of understanding or resolution regarding the state of matters between us. I do not relish being here in the slightest, Bartleby, and I have not come for the sake of diversion. I have come because although you behaved despicably towards me and our acquaintance, you were once my friend, and I wished to be able to leave this place believing that despite what has passed, that friendship was not wholly destroyed. Perhaps I was foolish, myself, to think thus.

[OOC: Give her a cause, and she will. You've got an opening in the last comment I posted.]

I... I don't understand what you want me to do! *his breathing hitches*

Just go away. *he puts his head in his hands. Please.

*She stiffens, as if slapped, and responds even more formally than before.*

If you would like me to leave, I shall. I seem to have been regrettably foolish in my hopes for this meeting.

*She turns swiftly to go, but pauses at the door, speaking softly but not turning around.*

I hate what you have done, Bartleby, but I do not hate you. If I am unable to return here, know that I sincerely hope you are able to discover some form of peace, however uncertain I may be that you will be able to achieve it. I wish that for you very much.

*She opens the door, and walks out, locking it behind her. She walks rigidly down the hall, making it nearly to the door before the tears start to fall.*

*behind her, Bartleby flinches at the click of the lock* *his eyes look miserable and bruised, and he slowly curls himself into a ball again, shivering*

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Bartleby in his room

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