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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Jan 28, 2009 18:12:29 GMT -5
Scarlett finally looked at the waiter for the first time. He didn't exactly look, or talk, like any waiter she'd ever known.
"You don't know?" she said. "I would have thought you people would be up on all the gossip."
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 28, 2009 18:21:18 GMT -5
Mercutio flashed her a charming grin, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, milady, gossip's a sin."
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Jan 28, 2009 18:29:50 GMT -5
Scarlett glanced sharply at him, not believing this pose for a second.
"Well, it's just as well," she said. "There's nothing to know. Anymore."
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 28, 2009 18:47:40 GMT -5
Mercutio glanced between her and Andrew's distant profile, lips drawing together in a disbelieving moue. "Was Monsieur Stick-up-his-ass horrible to you, darling? Don't sound so bitter; I'm getting the impression that's the way he treats everyone."
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Jan 28, 2009 18:54:29 GMT -5
Scarlett's eyes widened at his remark. Then she laughed unexpectedly, slapping a hand over her mouth and looking even more appalled by her reaction than his words. Then she looked angry, as if at him for making her laugh.
"How dare you!" she cried. "How can you say such a thing? Andrew Blakeney is... is..."
But she was losing the righteous indignation that allowed her to believe he was everything she'd ever wanted.
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 28, 2009 19:50:10 GMT -5
"Sh-sh-sh-sh-shhhh." Mercutio placed a finger over his mouth. "You'll disrupt the opera." But he raised his eyebrows, as though waiting for her to go on and tell him exactly what Andrew Blakeney was.
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Jan 29, 2009 22:11:54 GMT -5
Her eyes flashed.
"Oh, you couldn't understand!" she said, not loudly though it certainly had force behind it. "How would you know Andrew, anyway? You're a... a waiter."
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 29, 2009 22:25:06 GMT -5
Mercutio's eyes narrowed. He wheeled forward with a suddenness that seemed as though it would end in a tumble, but it was only a quick trick to take another step towards Scarlett so that he could lean in, conspiratorially, the same hand that had held a finger to his lips now cupped around the side of his face as though he were conveying a secret and hiding it from anyone who happened to look. Then his fingers uncurled and came forward in a placating gesture, straightening to point on certain emphasized words. "Look, I know Andrew. I've met him, ah, twice." Then he straightened, and shrugged, twirling his tray on the back of her empty chair and not noticing if the light caught in flashes on the spinning silver. "That is very presumptious of you. I could be cousin to a prince, for all you know. I could have supped with royalty and cut my teeth on diamond rings. This could be subterfuge à la The Prince and The Pauper."
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Feb 2, 2009 12:17:15 GMT -5
He certainly was odd. Which more supported his story than refuted it. But he could be any number of scoundrelly people. A con artist, or an actor! But her curiosity was piqued.
"Met Andrew?" she said. "But where?"
Unconsciously, she leaned forward to hear the answered. What was he like, when he wasn't with her?
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Post by Mercutio on Feb 2, 2009 21:16:58 GMT -5
Mercutio listed the two places off on his fingers, uncurling one, then the other. "A museum, aaaaand a cafe," he said slowly.
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Feb 3, 2009 12:13:51 GMT -5
"Ohhh," Scarlett breathed. "What was he--"
She cut herself off, knowing she was gossiping, knowing it was unseemly, but unable to take it back. She needed to know what Andrew did on his own.
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Post by Mercutio on Feb 3, 2009 16:46:23 GMT -5
Mercutio paused to watch her a moment. He ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, an absent gesture, then, "Doing? Thinking? Dreaming of, as he slumped over his table and idly prodded his cafe au lait?" Well, at some point Andrew had avidly been wishing police enforcement on Mercutio, but he didn't have to share that. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he was more or less feeding the fancy of a society lady. She'd laughed at him once, which put her a league above what Mercutio had expected, which was a vaguely ill look and a quick dismissal. Still. This was just boring.
Mercutio had paused with his free hand holding the tray on the back of the chair; now, he spun it again. But he wasn't paying attention, and the tray whirled out of his fingers and hit the lip of the box with an audible clang. Mercutio hit the floor with a swiftness that would have amazed anyone who turned their head to look in atonishment and only saw Scarlett standing.
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Feb 3, 2009 17:09:16 GMT -5
When Scarlett noted the faces turned towards her--even from the stage--her face matched her name and she glared at the entire auditorium before drawing the curtains closed with a snap. She whirled on Mercutio, finding him on the floor and glaring down at him with all the wounded dignity of her public shaming.
"They'll be talking of me all over Paris tomorrow," she said in a hushed, though abrasive, whisper. "The discarded wife of Andrew Blakeney, reduced to making a spectacle of herself all alone in her box! They probably think I've been drinking."
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Post by Mercutio on Feb 7, 2009 8:47:52 GMT -5
Mercutio peered up at her, apparently undisturbed despite his violent dive. Chin propped on one hand, he said dubiously, "All of Paris? Talking about you? Don't they have better things, what with the loads of money you lot have?"
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Post by Scarlett O'Hara on Feb 9, 2009 11:40:28 GMT -5
Scarlett blinked down at him.
"What else is there to talk about?" she asked blankly. "Fashions and affairs and who said what at which party; it's all there is to talk about." "All of Paris" of course meaning the portion of which mattered to someone like Scarlett. "Doesn't everyone gossip?"
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