lt_safe_house | (no subject)

Time: March 12, 2003
Place: Lower Tadfield, Manor Lobby
Status: Public
Summary: Wensleydale arrives.

As he drove, Wensley fretted.

It wasn't as though this was an unusual action for the young man; indeed, one might go so far to say it came as naturally to him as a duck came to water. But the subject of his (lack of) employment, Wensley decided, had to be the most serious fret yet since he had started his Grown Up life.

There were many older, more experienced people in need of jobs, especially in accounting, he reasoned as he gazed out the window. But he had applied to a dozen other firms in the last two months: his CV was immaculate, he had graduated top of his class in university, and his supervisor at United Holdings [Holdings] PLC had promised him glowing refereneces as an apology for being let go with such little notice. And yet, still no responses. It wasn't so much the rejection or waiting that was bothering him (Wensley's favorite virtue had always been patience); no, he knew that if he had to be subjected to his parents' well-meaning smothering for one more day, he would go completely mad.

A flash of metal at the corner of his eye snapped him out of his reverie and forced him to slow down and actually look at his surroundings. His meanderings had left him in the countryside of Lower Tadfield, in front of the old Manor. Funny, he hadn't known it was up and running again. There were all manners of vehicle parked at the end of the long drive, including...a tank? Well, Wensley had always been a sensible boy, but it was a long-standing rule of the Them that you do not ignore interesting phenomenon. Wensley cautiously parked his car some distance from the tank, locked it, and walked into the Manor.

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"How many people are here?" Wensley attempted to swallow his disappointment at not finding Adam. That was another reason he had taken to wandering around Lower Tadfield, aside from finding a job. Unconsciously, he supposed, he was hoping that he would find Adam.

"Jeremy Wensleydale," he offered, taking her hand. "Former employee at United Holdings, PLC."

"Nice to meet you, Jeremy Wensleydale" she shook his hand firmly. "Welcome to this teeming madhouse..." Ishtar rolled the thought around in her head. "Not that it's really my place as a guest of sorts to welcome you," she added in a less decided tone. "Well, there's Mary Hodges, she sort of came with the manor as I understand it. Then there's us... waifs and strays waiting for Adam."

Her face twisted into a slight grimace as she tried to remember all the strange and shifting faces in residence at the manor, "There's probably about a dozen or so of us, just hanging around, but this is so big, sometimes it can feel like there's nothing here but the dreams and nightmares you bring with you..." her voice trailed off. Like a change in the weather her dreams had become overcast, and she was taking more and more of her special blends in the attempt to roll back the darkness.

She shook her head, dislodging the mental clouds as her short hair went flicking at her face. She smiled a winning but hollow smile. "Sorry, I drifted off for a space there. Shall I help you look for Mary? She's not usually hard to find."

"Why is everyone waiting for Adam, though?" Wensley wondered half to himself as he polished his glasses on his shirt. He knew that his friend had a strange charisma, but he had no idea why an assortment of people from all over would be looking for him. Regret stabbed him. Perhaps he had been away from his friends too long if he didn't know about this.

He noticed as the beautiful woman in front of him grew quiet and troubled in front of him for the first time in their conversation. "And what are you doing at the Manor, if you don't mind me asking?" he queried gently. "Are you waiting for Adam, too?" He gestured for her to lead him to this Ms. Hodges woman as he waited patiently for her to talk.

"No, not really," Ishtar sighed, finishing off her cigarette and stubbing it out. "I was running away." She exhaled a final stream of smoke, the faint colours in the grey ash writhing in the bright sunlight. "And ended up here of all places. I met an old friend... which was nice. And some of the people her I know of..."

Ishtar leaned against the edge of the polished front desk and dinged the bell with an absent gesture. "She's normally around here somewhere." Ishtar began zipping herself into the highly impractical boots, rolling up her jeans to do so. "That or the restaurant or library. Or the gardens. Or the garage. Oh, and I think she has an office. But best to try here first." She rolled her jeans down again and stood up. "Much better." She pressed the bell again.

Wensley followed Ishtar across the room, looking at the few interesting people who had begun to mill in and out of the Lobby. Dinnertime, probably. He wondered idly whether there was a decent chef here. He would probably find out soon enough.

An hour ago he hadn't even realised this place existed. It's strange where life will take you, he thought as his companion rang the bell impatiently.

Ishtar leant over the front desk, snooping with no shame through the diary left open there. "Well! There's nothing..." Just as she was about to admit defeat, her stomach interrupted with a loud growl.

"Bullocks!" She swore, then saw the funny side. "So, Jeremy Wensleydale, how about we give up until after lunch?"

Lunch? He hadn't realized it was that time of the day, but now that she mentioned it...

"Lunch would be wonderful. Do you know where one would eat in this place?"

"Come on," she grinned, scooping up her laptop, trailing wires "There's a sort of restaurant which should be open by now, and a bar. They're both through here."

Ishtar became aware of another need and smiled, "I've no real preference for which, although the sun is over the yardarm..."

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(I'm so sorry, I let life get away from me for awhile.)

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