taxonomites | oo6 ∞ [ visual | location :: wayne manor ] you win some, you lose some

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oo6 ∞ [ visual | location :: wayne manor ] you win some, you lose some

When the tablet clicks on, Enfys is still fiddling with it and only half in view; it looks like she's on the floor in the library in Wayne Manor, which probably means that the knees briefly visible on the sofa behind her belong to Bruce. When she has the tablet set up properly on the table, he isn't in view any more but she is (beaming) and it looks like she took to her hair with some scissors and hair dye. Possibly she stopped by an Extra-run hair-dressers, possibly she took her chances in the bathroom. You don't know.

"Hello, lovelies! And the rest of you." Ha, ha. "I've already got a job, conveniently, so I won't muddy the waters with adding my credentials to everybody else's. This is a much less important broadcast, I just want to know if anyone knows where I can find some abseiling equipment."

...because she wants to try abseiling down the side of her tower here at the manor. By the way.

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"I have rope, hook and carabiner, and a net to catch you in should this plan of yours go horribly wrong." Whatever plan it is. "Speaking of, what in the name of all fuck did you do to your head, you madwoman." The Brucolac smiles down at her on his tablet, jaw propped on the heel of his hand.

"Aw, handsome! You think of everything. Want to hover your big boat next to the building while I do it? You can backseat drive and everything." Continuing in the grand Slayer tradition of inappropriate relationships with vampires...but no, Enfys and the Brucolac are just really ridiculous.

She obligingly picks up the tablet to give him the full 360 degree view of her new haircut, though.

"My elegant ship is spoken-for at the moment, but this will not stop me from shouting things at you, should I feel that you require it. Are you locked in some sort of tower? Are there guardians in improbable helmets carrying even-more-improbable-swords?"

...Look, he's got some actual cultural basis (http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3244/2682588855_2b1d2a31dc.jpg) for these questions.

Enfys mouths 'elegant ship' along with him with her head rocking side to side like she's a trolly child- because sometimes that is exactly what she is, yes, she loves you Brucolac.

"I'm pretty sure he could lock me in if he wanted," she says, speculatively, glancing over her shoulder at Bruce. "Keeping me in, that'd be another thing."

He gives her a very stern look, which is intended to convey that she knows fully well how amazing his ship is, and that he knows that she is clearly longing to be given the full tour, she should stop begging so, truly, it is unseemly. Dear god, his eyes are full of commas.

"Oh, that does sound like a challenge. When, at some point in the future, you appear on my tablet, glaring, I am going to be smug as hell. I will pay your ransom, but I will pay it smugly."

"Riiiight, but you would pay!" Enfys feels this means she wins. "I don't know what he would want. Bruce, if you locked me in a tower, what would the ransom be? This is serious."

...young lady.

Distant, because he's speaking from the sofa and not his own tablet:

"My sanity."

"You hear that?" she inquires of the Brucolac, blithely. "I'm essential to Mr Wayne's mental health."

Observe her creative interpretation of reality.

It is entirely possible that Enfys's victory was just what the Brucolac had in mind.

"If you've taken up with this one, sir, you're fucked and the cause is lost. And anyway, oh lovely hellion, why can't you hatch the equipment you need?"

"I could, but then I wouldn't have had this fantastic conversation with you, now, would I?" Taxon is a little too easy, sometimes; Enfys is still adjusting to the idea of people she can't just drop when she feels like not dealing with human relationships any more, but she's always liked to be able to pick them up in the first place. She could very easily spend all her time in Wayne Manor and never see anyone else, though, and she knows that about herself - so every now and again she'll find some excuse to make sure she doesn't.

"I'll bite. What's abseiling?" This without preamble; Spade is nosy enough to just ask.

Enfys laughs, tapping her pencil against her hand. "S'when you strap yourself into a flimsy little harness, take a rope, leap off a building or a cliff, and fucking pray. Or rappelling, you could call it that, too."

"And people do this, in situations not involving running from bad men with guns?" he asks, amused.

"For fun, Mr Sassy. And sometimes because there are bad men guns, I don't know, I don't judge the lifestyle choices of other people." ...that is probably not a lifestyle choice. Technically.

He raises his hands, a surrender gesture. "Wasn't judging, sweetheart. Just looking to expand my vocabulary, is all."

"Relax, champ, not what I meant," she says, resting back on her hands. "Anyway, it's a good time. I like base jumping, too."

"Jumping off bases?" he asks. He's used to some level of sass, but the level of smartassery from women that come from the future continues to entertain him. And truth be told, he likes people that keep up with him conversationally, whoever they may be.

"You're a quick one, aren't you, then? With a parachute! Like jumping out of a plane only there's no plane."

He considers this. "Be kind of tricky in a city, wouldn't it? Wind'd catch you and bang you into a building."

"Well, I never did it in a city, myself." And no plans to, but the abseiling, yes, definitely. Maybe she'll check out some other likely locations, besides just the tower at the manor.

"Ah, probably best." He leans back a bit. "Well thanks for the education. If no one can help you right off, I can poke around a little for you, if you like." He doesn't expect her to need a PI for finding equipment, but he may as well offer.

"Aw, that's sweet of you. I don't put out for rope, though, unless you're really creative." ...Enfys. "Enfys Llewelyn, by the way. What do I call you, Mr Dictionary?"

Disclaimer: does not think Spade expects sex for abseiling equipment, is a hideous brat.

"Samuel Spade," he says, sounding more amused than offended. "And I imagine that would be quite the level of creativity. Though I admit, it ain't a bad incentive, Miz Llewelyn." Because if she's going to try and shock him, she can certainly handle that much.

As much as Enfys enjoys startling people, she likes to think it'd take a little more than that for most people- yes, she really is basically like this all the time, to a greater or lesser degree. She hasn't tried to bounce a quarter off his ass ... yet.

"They have special knots and everything. ...and a spade's a Spade except when it's a Sam; got it."

Well, the man is from the 30s, Enfys. She actually reminds him of Effie, his secretary, in a good way. She's younger than Effie, and a little more brazen, but he's guessing part of that is just different times. "I do answer to either, most of the time. And I'll have to look into those special knots. Guessing they don't teach them in boy scouts."

Enfys in the thirties would be a sight to behold.

"Not if they like not getting done for inappropriate behaviour with minors, sweetpea. I'll call you Sam, then; call me Enfys. Means rainbow." Also means 'crazy', judging by the evidence at hand.

"Enfys, then. Your parents find you with the pot of gold?"

"Popular myth has it my da was down in the emergency room getting his stitches looked at on account of starting a barfight during the labour, actually."

...true story.

He laughs, though not in disbelief; he's willing to take that on face value. "Not quite passing out cigars, tradition-wise, but I suppose to each his own."

"Well, we're Irish." And...getting drunk is a tradition? It is if you ask basically every Irish person in Taxon, which to the best of the management's knowledge is all of three goddamn people, anyway.

And maybe don't ask Angel about his Irish heritage. Maybe.

Probably not the best idea, early on in one's stay in Taxon. "Ah, I see. Well, hate to mess with foreign traditions."

"Smart man."

"I try to cultivate that reputation."

Morgana simply assumes Enfys's job involves all those duties that revolve around being mistress of the manor (even if Morgana won't use the title aloud).

That's what makes her request such a carefully worded one -- but directly to the point. "Enfys, While you may have your duties at Wayne Manor, I was wondering if you might allow me some benefit of your expertise?"

Enfys is not, in any way, a servant and at least their rodent captors are the ones who have to deal with the distasteful issues of payment.

"And Enfys, you look lovely," Morgana adds. She might actually believe this, or is biased on behalf of her friend, but the motives don't matter, it sounds sincere.

Edited 2010-04-21 20:09 (UTC)

"You like it?" Enfys touches her hair- just a little self-consciously- but she beams, too, so she's taking sincerity at face value. Morgana's approval means a little more to her than she likes to let on. "Anyway, of course! What d'you need?"

"I do, it suits you," because to Morgana, what suits Enfys is whatever Enfys is doing at any given moment in time. Therefore, the hair suits her.

"I am uncertain, if during your stay at the Royal Chambers, you came across the historical records room. It is full of all the histories, and information texts, as well as ledgers and the like." Morgana didn't show it to her, but Enfys might have come across it, as Morgana hadn't placed limits on where the other woman could go.

"Geoffrey of Monmouth had a rather creative," she's being diplomatic, "style of organization. Perhaps you could improve upon it." There might also be a few texts there that might make for and interesting temporary addition to Enfys's collection.

"That is, if Mr. Wayne can spare you."

"Oh, yeah! ...yeah, he did, I'd love to have a go at it." The upside of Taxon is that getting books is a lot easier; once she knows what she needs, the hatches are right there to provide her with a spare copy to squirrel away in Wayne Manor's library. It'll be a little more challenging with the newly imposed economy, but she's pretty sure her system will still work. It might just take longer than it used to. Or she'll go back to 'buying books instead of food', which wouldn't be a first. "That's fine, I've got time. I'll just be organizing, anyway."

"That would be perfect." Feeling a bit of relief that Enfys didn't leap to the conclusion she would be treated as a servant, Morgana smiles. The societal structure of Taxon, and fluidity of status, is still confusing to Morgana.

"There might even be a few texts you would like to borrow," this time she really does mean borrow not the 'keep this safe for a while' that she did with the book from the glass house, "for the collection you have been creating."

As for the records on the purge, Enfys could burn them, for all Morgana cares.

"Hatching copies is the way to go, I think. That way I don't even need to take interesting books away from your chambers to have a read of them." She beams back.

(Burning books, though, would be entirely too distressing an idea to occur to her. Even the horrifying- records of what's horrifying should particularly be preserved, in her view, but ideally so no one is stupid enough to do it again. Or simply so that it can't be erased, deaths undone and lives never lived because of what's agreed upon as history.)

"Either way, that is your choice. You will have to let me know when you would be available to begin." Morgana's not requiring Enfys to schedule her visits, just that Morgana know when to be present to enjoy her company.

As for certain records, Morgana cannot be expected to be rational about such things. She would rather not read about things she's been forced to witness. She would rather forget it entirely.

"I'll give you a yell before I come over," she promises.

"...your hair."

That's all you're gonna get, Enfys. Sorry. Mostly because Penelope doesn't actually know what abseiling is. It may be noticed that Penelope is no longer in residence at Wayne Manor, or so the background of her tablet feed would imply.

"You weren't here to stop me," Enfys supplies immediately.

"What, so this is my fault? I've got a cat to look after, I can't spend all my time making sure you don't cut parts of your body off. That's not my job." Penelope is extraordinarily blasé about this.

"Speaking of jobs, we actually have to have them now. How much bullshit is that?" Apparently she feels it is quite a large amount of bullshit. Angus does too, because it means he has to go back to the cheaper cat food, and he was getting all kinds of fat and spoiled, but he's a cat so who cares what he thinks. Penelope's more worried about having to pay for cigarettes again.

"What if I paid you to make sure I don't leave the house looking like whatever it is that makes you want to bash me in the face with a shovel?" Enfys speculates cheerfully- this bitch already has a job, thus making it irritating to have to pay for things but slightly less annoying than it is for a lot of the rest of the (unemployed) city.

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oo6 ∞ [ visual | location :: wayne manor ] you win some, you lose some

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