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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 14, 2007 20:37:05 GMT -5
The couple looked at each other and sighed. "We're passers." he said.
"Passers?" Jerome asked.
Esme rolled her eyes. "They are neutral people who pass information and act as people who have a side but are actually traitors." She informed.
"Well....traitors is a little harsh. We keep things from happening on both sides. He stopped schemes from hurting people by telling the other sides, whichever way it was going." The old woman explained.
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Post by Jenny on Jun 15, 2007 12:29:22 GMT -5
'They interfere for a living.' she continued to her husband fearlessly.
'We save lives. It's a duty.' the elderly man said, slamming down his teacup.
'YOUR side, I believe, is the one that does the interfering,' the older woman said, nodding at Esmé. 'Your side, which you deviated to when you were sixteen because of a certain acting professor and a certain best friend dresing as a dragonfly for a certain ball. I won't mention any names, Esmé.'
Jerome expected his wife to argue over it, but she bit her lip and sat back. He found himself, for once, protective.
'There was no need to be unpleasant to her,' he said to the elderly woman, folding his arms. 'After all, you don't even have a side.'
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 15, 2007 19:41:02 GMT -5
Esme looked at Jerome, feeling happy he defended her like he did. She smirked to herself on the inside. "There is no need to be mad. It's all over now." she said.
"Hardly. Today alone there are forces gathering eagals and going out hunting good V.F.Ders." The old woman exclaimed.
"Well most of them are dead. Olaf is dead." Esme informed.
They both gasped.
"Shocking? I just found out too." she said, bitter still.
"I was wondering why you were with Jerome. I thought you had left him." The old man said.
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Post by Jenny on Jun 16, 2007 2:54:31 GMT -5
It was time for Esmé to fold her arms and step in.
'I'm not with Jerome because Olaf died.' she told them quietly, almost as if Jerome wouldn't hear it.
'Yes. You're with him because that Count got rid of you, isn't that right?'
'Well, no. I don't thibk that's what happened at all.'
Jerome had to grab her arm soothingly. 'Let it go,' he whispered after a seconds hesitation. Eventually she sat back at let them carry on.
'Well you did leave Jerome.' the elderly woman said. 'So something must have happened to make you go back to--'
'I'm afraid it has so little to do with you,' Esmé said, acidic. 'That I won't go into anymore detail.'
The older man laughed, running a hair through his short grey hair.
'Oh, dear. It seems we really aren't getting on,' he commented.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 16, 2007 9:24:19 GMT -5
"Actually Jerome is forcing me to stay. Yes, that's right. Since I left Jerome learned how to blackmail, and as such, he has become immensely more attractive." Esme said kissing her husband to prove it.
Jerome was taken aback but he didn't mind letting her use him to prove a point.
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Post by Jenny on Jun 16, 2007 11:34:38 GMT -5
'Learned how to blackmail?' the elderly woman chortled happily. 'Jerome? Are you sure he's feeling alright?'
She tittered to herself for a moment, sitting don with more tea for the four of them.
'He's written a book,' Esmé continued.
'Another one?' the older man enquired.
'Yes. A more interesting one. About me.'
'About you?'
'Quite. And if you've been watching me as closely as I imagine you have been you should know that my life isn't the sort of thing I wish to publisice.'
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 16, 2007 12:33:45 GMT -5
"Obviously not. Is it factual or is it presented like a story?" The old lady said. "Because is you've written it like a novel Jerome I expect there will be some rather explicit scenes.... And a lot of them."
Esme was offended."Ha...ha... Is it?" she looked to her husband.
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Post by Jenny on Jun 16, 2007 12:53:21 GMT -5
Jerome flushed visibly and tugged at his collar, coughing.
'Well....you know it's written like a novel.'
She didn't bother waiting for the rest of his undoubtedly pathetic answer to a simple question.
She folded her arms sulkily. 'Jerome...' she groaned. 'It was a perfectly pleasant book when I read it.'
'Before he started making it about you.'
'Yes, alright...'
'Do you have a copy spare? I'm rather interested.'
Esmé glared at the older woman in complete disgust. 'Sick...' she muttered under her breath.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 16, 2007 16:34:53 GMT -5
"Jerome,dear, is there an explanation of how she got that job in there?" the old woman asked, raiing an eyebrow. Esme was sick of this.
"I was a bank teller when I lived with Olaf as a teenager. I got promoted." Esme huffed.
"I"m sure. And I can't remember if you killed people to get there or just slept with them." the old man was having fun picking on her. She was ready getting fed up and just wanted to leave.
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Post by Jenny on Jun 16, 2007 16:50:44 GMT -5
'I killed Beatrice. OK? Happy? Nobody else.'
'Liar,' thw old man said immediately.' That's a lie and we all know it.'
She took her husbands arm. 'Thank you for the tea,' she smield falsely. 'But we really must be going now. We have to get home. Away from....this place.' What she meant was away from them, but she didn't say it.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 16, 2007 19:32:27 GMT -5
They left with the maps they had been given. Jerome eventually pulled the boat into a dock near the city in the fish district. Esme sighed in relief but then was horrified when she realized that she now had to walk through the city in a white sundress that had been wetted and crusted dry many times over now, it had sand and god knows what else all over it, and her heels had been lost ages ago.
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Post by Jenny on Jun 17, 2007 6:35:58 GMT -5
'I don't suppose this magnificent boat of yours has any spare clothes floating about on it, anywhere?' she asked.
'No,' her husband laughed. 'I'm afraid you'll have to let people see you looking less than perfect, for once.'
She pouted, and then remembered something.
'How like me have you made Cynthia, in my book?'
'It isn't your book. I wrote it.'
'Well, I'm on the front.'
'True. And as like you as I could get from my research and speaking to people that knew you better than I ever did.'
'Like who? I didn't have any relatives. Just Olaf, and I don't think you'd have had much luck interviewing him.'
I'm sure I wouldn't have. But actors from when you were young, old theatre troupe members and ex-friends and boyfriends of yours were happy to help me.'
'So you did speak to Arthur.'
'What?' Jerome exploded. 'As in Poe?'
She smiled to herself, readying to get off the boat and make her way home. 'You don't know that much about me, then, after all.'
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 17, 2007 9:12:33 GMT -5
"I didn't know you knew him outside of work." Jerome said as they started to walk.
"I know him very well. I knew him before I got my bank job." Esme informed.
"When you say you know him VERY well. Do you mean Very well or VERY well?" he asked.
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Post by Jenny on Jun 17, 2007 9:26:13 GMT -5
'How important is it to you?' she laughed.
'Well, incredibly. He's old and ugly.'
She laughed again. 'I quite agree. I knew him....well, I knew him. Let's leave it at that. I was a teenager who's only talent was being pretty. I knew little about money.'
Jerome held up a hnad. 'Don't tell me anymore,' he moaned.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Jun 17, 2007 13:51:05 GMT -5
"Some would say that Olaf got old and ugly. After his brown hair went...and after his first few schemes didn't work out, and he stopped being hygienic. You know I slept with him, didn't you find that creepy?" she asked.
"I had tried not to think about it. the only sex scenes I wrote with you and Olaf in them were one when you were in school and one when you were at a club."
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