((Your icon there would be perfect for The Shadow... I apologize that it took me so long to write this. Intoxicated Aloysius proved tricky.))
It was not like Aloysius to socialize. Even in their travels across Europe, when he had introduced Courtney to 'old friends' there had been a definite air of distance. He had been friendly towards them, but not close. It was a surprise, then, when one evening in early November a guest arrived on the porch of the Crumrin Mansion and was warmly received. He was short, slender, and very pale. His accent was too foreign for Courtney to place, even after the summer trip, and the name he gave was nigh unpronounceable. She was miffed when Aloysius took him directly up to the study, without so much as inviting her. After an hour or two, curiosity got the better of her, and she crept to the study door. Practice had taught her which parts of the hall floor did and did not creak, and where and how to push the door open a crack without arousing notice. They were seated by the fire, their conversation too low for her to properly make out, and bits of it seemed to be in another language, besides. What did reach her ears was the sudden chuckle Aloysius gave, just a touch loudly. There was a brandy sifter in his gnarled hand, nearly empty, and the bottle on the table between the men was very low. The stranger just smiled, but the aged warlock gestured at him a touch unsteadily with the large glass. His voice rose in mock accusation. "Don't give me that look, I can tell when you're trying not to laugh." The pale man leaned forward and took the bottle, smiling more openly. His accented words took a moment for her to process. "Yes, but not at quite the same joke." Aloysius gave a snort, took the last of what was in his glass in a single swallow, and set it on the table with a note of finality. "That's unfair, but you'd better finish the bottle."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2010-02-02 06:42 pm (UTC)It was not like Aloysius to socialize. Even in their travels across Europe, when he had introduced Courtney to 'old friends' there had been a definite air of distance. He had been friendly towards them, but not close.
It was a surprise, then, when one evening in early November a guest arrived on the porch of the Crumrin Mansion and was warmly received. He was short, slender, and very pale. His accent was too foreign for Courtney to place, even after the summer trip, and the name he gave was nigh unpronounceable. She was miffed when Aloysius took him directly up to the study, without so much as inviting her.
After an hour or two, curiosity got the better of her, and she crept to the study door. Practice had taught her which parts of the hall floor did and did not creak, and where and how to push the door open a crack without arousing notice.
They were seated by the fire, their conversation too low for her to properly make out, and bits of it seemed to be in another language, besides. What did reach her ears was the sudden chuckle Aloysius gave, just a touch loudly. There was a brandy sifter in his gnarled hand, nearly empty, and the bottle on the table between the men was very low. The stranger just smiled, but the aged warlock gestured at him a touch unsteadily with the large glass. His voice rose in mock accusation. "Don't give me that look, I can tell when you're trying not to laugh."
The pale man leaned forward and took the bottle, smiling more openly. His accented words took a moment for her to process. "Yes, but not at quite the same joke."
Aloysius gave a snort, took the last of what was in his glass in a single swallow, and set it on the table with a note of finality. "That's unfair, but you'd better finish the bottle."