(no subject)

[witchfinder_general]

As the leader of his team, especially with a new member, Father Harman has to present quiet assurance and a positive outlook, paired with hard-bitten cynical realism and ruthless determination, at all times. The only friend and team member around whom he can let down his guard, Angie Marsh, has been wondering what was up ever since she saw Harman with his inexplicable visitor by the elevator the other week.

And today had not been a good day. Harman had been feeling off since the morning, and by evening, he had developed a raging headache and slight nausea. He'd kept a stiff upper lift and bravely spent his twenty minutes on the stationary bike under Angie's supervision before she'd left him alone and gone home to her daughter, still looking worried because he'd declined her dinner invitation yet again.

When he was sure he was alone, he slipped through the supply closet into Milliways, where he is sitting by the fireplace, a mug of very strong tea in both hands, trying to decompress and unclench his neck and jaw.

He will probably welcome distraction, even in the shape of somebody needing his attention.

Comments

[sunbaked_baker]

How about in the shape of a cinnamon roll?

A cinnamon roll, and the baker offering the cinnamon roll, rather.

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman looks up.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Seddon!" he says, managing a smile.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Looked like you could use a pick-me-up," Rae smiles back, the smile of a friend making sure of a friend's well-being. "Everything all right?"

[witchfinder_general]

"Things are a bit stressful at the moment," Harman admits. "And it's not good to let my guard down, even if I feel like hurling things at the wall. Prayer and confession help, of course, but unfortunately my confessor is in Rome at the moment, and due to my profession, I can't talk to anybody else in my order in London."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Sounds familiar," she murmurs, taking a seat nearby. Rae feels a definite familiarity with the idea of being stressed by something she can't talk to anyone in her world about, and being unable to let her guard down. "Anything I can do to help? Might not be able to offer much more than a pastry diversion, but I'm an okay listener, too."

[witchfinder_general]

That draws a little smile; and as a reaction, Father Harman takes the plate with the cinnamon roll, breaks off a bit, and eats it.

"I have started negotiations with several government agencies of varying degrees of secrecy about literally shooting something into space," he says. "The amount of red tape is breathtaking. They can't tell me what they do, I can't tell them what we do, my colleague Angie is doubtful because I'm asking for things without an explanation, and the other three need no indication that I'm not 110% certain of what I am doing because they ultimately look to me for final decisions, no matter how much they argue on the way there. And argue they will. Especially Frances, our newest member. All the rest, the helpers and scientists and SWAT team, seem to regard me as their personal pope, which is flattering, but stressful. My health is a bit iffy anyway, and not being able to tell Angie about Milliways is simply not helping. I need her on my side for this."

[sunbaked_baker]

"That," Rae murmurs, hesitating, "is a lot to be dealing with."

"Maybe you could stay here and rest a bit until you feel better," she suggests, considering the problem and how to separate its components. Angie's doubt seems to be the most immediate problem. Red tape is just a process - a drawn-out problem to work through.

"Is there an explanation Angie would accept that would assuage her doubts? Having an ally would help settle any arguing, and could help with the process of getting through the red tape, and scientists and everyone adding stress through reverence."

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"All right Pearse?"

[witchfinder_general]

Harman looks up. "Things were a bit stressful at work," he admits. "Tea, the fish in the fireplace, and the absolute certainty that no kind of phone is going to ring while I'm here is helping. I hope."

[is_the_motion]

"You gettin' a migraine?" Bonnie asks, sliding into the opposite side of the booth.

[witchfinder_general]

"Something like it," Father Harman says. "My head doesn't really feel very good at the moment."

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie leans over and feels his forehead, to check his temperature.

"You ain't gettin' sick, are you?"

[witchfinder_general]

"No, no more than usual," Father Harman says. "It's just been a bit stressful, with added bureaucratic tension."

[street_sparrow]

"Father Harman?" Gavroche asks with some concern. "You don't look well."

[witchfinder_general]

"Life is a bit taxing, my health isn't what it used to be, and my head hurts," Father Harman says. "Good evening, Gavroche."

Pause.

"You live in London, so you know about the amazing healing power of a strong cup of tea," he then adds. "That's what I'm trusting in at the moment. My confessor is in Rome at the moment, which takes away my usual outlet for venting."

[street_sparrow]

"My father swears by it", he agrees. "I could try to take his place, if you like - I can't do the absolution part, but I'm a good listener."

[witchfinder_general]

"If I could just vent a little, that would help," Father Harman admits, sipping his tea and sighing.

[street_sparrow]

"Gladly." He settles into a chair and looks expectant.

[witchfinder_general]

"My health is playing up, my colleague Angie has grown suspicious about what is, effectively, the effect of my interaction with Milliways, and I'm trying to have something shot into space, which is the worst bureaucratic nightmare of massive secrecy ever," Father Harman states.

[equal_of_any_man]

"Father?" Olivier is a fair bit older than the last time he was here but he still remembers his friends. "Father, are you well?"

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman looks up.

"Olivier," he says. "I'll be so, shortly, when the tea does its usual British tea magic. You're older!"

[equal_of_any_man]

"So I am. It has been several years for me." He smiles, order some tea for himself. "I fear I lost the path to the door."

[witchfinder_general]

"Or the door lost you," Father Harman says, sipping his tea. "Do have a seat, please."

Some things are more important than feeling sorry for himself and heaving a headache, Harman thinks. Like listening to Olivier.

[equal_of_any_man]

"Perhaps." He nods his thanks and takes a seat. "Father, is there anything I can do to ease your pain? It's clear you're hurting."

[witchfinder_general]

"I had a stressful day, and a bad headache," Father Harman says. "I hope the tea is going to pick me up a little. At least I'm here where no phone is going to ring at me for a while."

He looks at Olivier with a rueful little smile. "Be glad these things don't exist yet in your time."