Beverly Katz (
schrodingerskatz) wrote in
milliways_bar2014-12-01 11:24 am
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When Beverly went back to work, Price commended her for "getting back on the horse" and every time she thinks about that now she kind of wants to laugh hysterically. It's been -- it's been a weird, weird week.
When the door opens into the bar, she stops short in the doorway, staring. Then, cautiously, she closes and opens it from her side. That works; she steps through and tests it from the Milliways side. Still works, and still opens onto the break room at Quantico. Satisfied that she's not going to be stuck here again, she heads to the counter. As she sits down, Bar delivers a note. And . . . a balloon. The balloon is pretty cute. The note -- not so much.
Beverly reads it twice, then sets it down with a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose with her good hand. (Her right is still bandaged, though the doctor assures her that her fingers are healing well.)
"Bar, can I have a double Bushmills?"
There are things she can deal with sober, but the combination of dealing with Hannibal Lecter at work, dealing with the situation here, and finding a live bird in a dead woman's chest just. Is not one of those things.
[ooc: Usual warnings about the gruesomeness of Beverly's canon apply, turned up a little because "Su-Zakana" is a hell of an episode. Let me know if you'd rather her work not come up.]
When the door opens into the bar, she stops short in the doorway, staring. Then, cautiously, she closes and opens it from her side. That works; she steps through and tests it from the Milliways side. Still works, and still opens onto the break room at Quantico. Satisfied that she's not going to be stuck here again, she heads to the counter. As she sits down, Bar delivers a note. And . . . a balloon. The balloon is pretty cute. The note -- not so much.
Beverly reads it twice, then sets it down with a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose with her good hand. (Her right is still bandaged, though the doctor assures her that her fingers are healing well.)
"Bar, can I have a double Bushmills?"
There are things she can deal with sober, but the combination of dealing with Hannibal Lecter at work, dealing with the situation here, and finding a live bird in a dead woman's chest just. Is not one of those things.
[ooc: Usual warnings about the gruesomeness of Beverly's canon apply, turned up a little because "Su-Zakana" is a hell of an episode. Let me know if you'd rather her work not come up.]
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The use of the word "master" does not make her feel more positive about what he's saying.
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"The Northmen. They came to Lindisfarne... some months ago, now."
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"It wasn't", he says, somewhere between wry and flat. "But... it got better. Somewhat."
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Oookay. That doesn't sound encouraging.
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"I'm not mistreated. And they could. I'm even in a position of trust."
But he's not a free man.
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"The term is Stivardur. I take care of their household and their children if they go away, manage the servants, greet guests..."
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"That's the word Matilda used", he says with a nod. "I suppose it must be, then. But even when I was their only servant, in a far smaller house, I was trusted with their children."
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"And you've been with them for a few months, you said?"
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"It was early winter when I was first brought there", he says with a nod. "There was a bad storm, and they came then."
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She frowns, slightly.
"Does your -- master come here?"
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"If he does, I've never seen him, and he's never said anything about it."
But then, if he doesn't know Athelstan knows about it, he wouldn't.
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"He asked me that. Why I'd never tried to escape, and at first I just didn't dare because it was a strange land and I wouldn't get far. But more and more now, I don't want to."
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She puts the question aside. But she can't help thinking of Miriam Lass, held captive for two years.
"Why not?"
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"Because..." He has to think about it. "Because he stood between me and death, on Lindisfarne, and again on our return, took me from the men who killed my brothers. Because he and Lady Lagertha trust me, and their little daughter loves me. And it's become a kind of home."
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Well, curiosity's her besetting weakness.
"Not exactly a home you chose."
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"No", he agrees. "But sometimes, there is nothing to be done but make the best of it."
And it was so very easy to do that.
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"That's very pragmatic."
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He follows her eyes, and frowns at what he sees.
"I'm a peasant. It's in the blood."
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"Yes, or... taking what comes. My parents had to send one of us away, I chose for it to be me, to the monastery to learn and eventually take the cowl, and it suited me well, and now... again, I adapt to a change."
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. . . Less neutral. Whoops. Oh well.
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