(no subject)

[witchfinder_general]

After mass this Sunday, Father Harman sits at a table near the windows, having some tea.

It's raining outside, but he doesn't have any business out there, anyway.

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

Today the Master of Ceremonies is as subdued as the weather when he crosses the room toward Harman's window table, trailing smoke as usual from a cigarette in his hand. He hasn't seen him since...the incident. But the Emcee has obviously survived the recovery process.

"Guten Tag, Father Harman. How very Scottish the weather is this afternoon, don't you think?"

[witchfinder_general]

"Good afternoon, Emcee," Father Harman says. "Do take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea as well? And yes, for once, the weather takes after the landscape out there today. But it's quite nice to look at if you're inside with tea and a book."

[i_am_your_host]

"Thank you, I think I might have a cup, actually," he replies pleasantly, and he eases into the chair opposite him, turning to the side and casually draping his arm over the backrest.

"With a splash of something stronger, of course," he adds.

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman pours him the tea and orders the splash from the rats.

"It's good to see you mostly repaired," the priest says.

[i_am_your_host]

"Mostly?" he snorts with a smirk. "I would say completely, darling. I am more resilient than I look."

The rat brings Emcee a shot of scotch, which he adds to the tea before taking a delicate sip.

[witchfinder_general]

"Inside and out?" Father Harman asks, with a little smile.

[i_am_your_host]

Another snort, his smirk widening into a crooked smile.

"I don't dwell on things like that, Father. I've moved on."

He takes a drag off his cigarette.

"And how have you been?"

[gredya]

Gredya has been out at the edge of the woods and comes in, shaking the rain off her head and shoulders as she enters. It's not as effective a gesture as when she has a full coat of fur, but there's still a fair amount of spray.

She sets down her bag on the edge of Harman's table.

[witchfinder_general]

"Hello," Father Harman says. "Would you like a cup of tea? It must be terribly cold and wet out there. Do you need a towel?"

[gredya]

"No. It is not cold." Wet, though. Yes. She's not sure what she'd do with a towel, so she'll just drip a bit.

"I bring apples." She begins unpacking them from the bag. No bread or grape leaves today--she was only able to bring a rabbit to trade. "Apples are good?"

[witchfinder_general]

"Yes, very good," Father Harman says.

He'd accept anything -- he wants her to learn, she wants to learn and wants to pay, so anything she brings is acceptable.

[gredya]

Gredya looks as satisfied when he takes the apples as she had last week with the peaches. But it reminds her of something. "I looked at that church. Man was working there. He didn't like me."

She grins.

[witchfinder_general]

"Oh, Javert," Father Harman says, with a little eye-roll. "He can be a bit complicated. What did he not like about you?"

Inferring that he has something to dislike about a number of people.

[road_to_calvary]

'Father Harman. Good evening.'

The bar had arrived for Valjean late this evening, so he is dressed in comfortable working man's clothes rather than his gentleman's attire. Other than that he is mostly unchanged. Perhaps a little more tired, a little more grey. But he is smiling his usual gentle smile.

'Are you well, monsieur?'

[witchfinder_general]

"Good evening," Father Harman says, looking up from his book to smile at Valjean. "It's good to see you. And thank you, I am quite well. My colleague Angie assures me I'm not worse, and that is good."

[road_to_calvary]

'I am glad to hear it.'

Truly.

'She sounds as though she knows well what is good for you, Father.'

[witchfinder_general]

"She does," Father Harman says. "She's a friend, as well as a colleague and an excellent doctor and scientist."

[road_to_calvary]

'It must be a very convenient arrangement to have all those things in one.'

But it will be clear from his tone that he is not suggesting in the least that is why Harman is friends with her.

'Is there any further treatment you can take, monsieur?'

[witchfinder_general]

"I'm sure there is here," Father Harman says. "Either some medical technology from the future, or some healing magic, but it doesn't feel right to avail myself of it unless I get dangerously worse. I can live with things as they are at the moment."

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie had hovered on the edge of mass, but left before the end, and is now busy whacking darts into a dartboard with vigour.

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman passes close to her as he walks to the bar to get more tea.

"Please don't aim for me, Mrs. Murdock," he says with a little smile.

[is_the_motion]

"Wouldn' dream of it." Bonnie says, smacking a dart into the bull's eye, a second one into the double twenty, and the third one bouncing off the board at a bizarre angle, and plopping into the centre of a jelly which happens to be sitting on the nearest table.

[witchfinder_general]

"You did that on purpose?" Father Harman says, staring at the impaled jelly.

[is_the_motion]

"I wish. Would've won me a lot of bets." Bonnie sighs.

"You ever wonder if every bit of good you do will eventually wear off, disappear, no matter how you try?"

[witchfinder_general]

"Far too often," Father Harman says. "What happened?"