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Post by Archie Cunningham on Nov 24, 2008 11:44:56 GMT -5
((Closest thing I could get to a grand hotel. I hope I am not in private property.))
Archie had not at all forgotten the strange gentleman who had stopped him on the bridge and spoken to him in that very soft tone of voice; he showed up in his thoughts every so often, and perhaps someone else might have noticed a correlation between his thought patterns - whenever he was at his most confused and most bored, and trying to brainstorm ways to attract something to do or someone to whom he could attach himself, the Vicomte to Valmont came to mind - but Archie was not very strong in that.
As it was, Archie was rearranging his things to give himself something to do, currently resting in a chaise longue and flicking through his unused stationary, considering keeping a diary of some kind. He had never had anyone to write letters to, and he wanted to have some record of his existence to justify it by; but he had tried journaling once or twice, and never seemed to have anything to put on the page. There just wasn't very much to describe. At the bottom of the box, under a panel, were his attempts to detail his life. In his weak identity and lack of consciousness of his own cognitive processes, he had never even begun to write of who he was or how he felt. Instead he had detailed, to fill up pages and pass the hours, as much as he could about those he met. Careful descriptions of a prostitute's breasts or the discovery of a molly's lack thereof or a noble's oddities of wig were well-preserved, and the whole matter was terribly comic, even though Archie himself did not have much knowledge of how potentially comic he himself was. Still, he knew that sometimes they were interesting to reread, and was considering, at the moment, taking them out and looking at them.
At that moment, however, he was unexpectedly interrupted. Again.
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Post by Valmont on Nov 24, 2008 12:40:39 GMT -5
((Not at all. This is an entirely proper use.))
Valmont, for his part, had also had Cunningham on the mind in a similarly incidental way. It occurred to him, in odd moments between the various distractions which made up his daily life, that the man had presented an odd form of malleability. Or had seemed to. The prospect, unexplored and unconfirmed even, piqued his interest. Whatever else he was, Valmont was something of a layman scholar of human nature, even if his sampling was decidedly unscientific.
Therefore, on one rather dreary day when nothing was in the offing, Valmont directed his carriage back to the hotel Cunningham had named, arriving quite purposefully unannounced at his particular door, tastefully resplendent.
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Post by Archie Cunningham on Nov 24, 2008 12:55:23 GMT -5
When a liveried servant of the hotel unexpectedly knocked and announced a caller, Archie's response was delayed by his own disbelief at the event. It seemed like something unreal out of a dream, and if a man had crashed through the wall, tearing it like paper, a knight astride a chessboard horse, he would have been less surprised. Then again, had that happened, he would have stayed on his chaise, stationary box in lap, and demanded, rudely, "Who the devil are you meant to be?" But as it was, the gentleman introduced when the door was opened provoked very much a different response. Archie was up on his feet, the box on the next cushion over, and taking a step forward before he even knew what hit him. He was blastedly confused at the man's presence, certainly hadn't invited him, and hadn't been informed of his coming, but it took him a much shorter time to overcome his impolite lack of understanding this time around. Nonetheless, confusion was evident, even if he expressed an obvious willingness to brush it all aside to behave with as much gorgeously brutal servility as was necessary.
He swept a deep bow, almost a curtsy if one gave in to one's imagination and recognized the shape of a full skirt in the effeminate motions Archie's wrist made on the way down, the sort one might find as one degraded oneself at court for someone who was vastly better than one and whom one could benefit from if one only flattered them well enough. It was not really the sort of bow that was best-suited to a private hotel room.
But Archie made it anyway - it was just the sort of bow Archie always made, and did not even have anything to do with the specifics of his visitor. Nonetheless, there was a certain pleasure in the confusion of this unexpected arrival, one that quickened his breath, as he noted without comprehending. Archie made conversation with a great many of the upper class, but few men stirred him as this one had, and Archie could tell he was anticipating what this meeting might hold.
"Your Grace," he said, voice pleasant and highly artificial; "to what do I owe this...unexpected pleasure?"
And it was obvious both that it was highly unexpected and rather pleasurable. Archie was usually a transparent person, for all his superficiality.
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Post by Valmont on Nov 24, 2008 13:13:08 GMT -5
Cunningham's surprise was, of course, quite obvious to Valmont not merely because it was plain but because he had planning upon it. He had not sent a card, or contacted the man in any way since their meeting on the bridge; this arrival would be highly unusual and somewhat incomprehensible. The rather absurd bow and the improper title amused him greatly. There was something rather fresh in the man's obsequiousness, something sincerely artificial that Valmont considered nearly impossible to come by. However false-seeming the man's manner, it was his own, and however ostentatious his "pleasure" at Valmont's appearance he sensed it was real, in its way.
This was, of course, very satisfying and prompted further action. He nodded to Cunningham but looked quite put out in a distant, unfocused manner.
"Unexpected?" he nearly drawled. "Do you mean to say my man neglected the simple task of bringing my card and setting up this appointment? My apologies, Mr. Cunningham; I would not have dreamed of interrupting you unannounced."
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Post by Rosalind on Nov 24, 2008 15:40:52 GMT -5
((Dammit! I knew it wasn't the right title but I didn't know the right one. I was hoping you wouldn't either. XD))
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Post by Erik on Nov 24, 2008 15:42:42 GMT -5
((You can edit if you like. I'm not certain, but at least in English it'd be my lord, I think. But I can't be sure.))
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Post by Archie Cunningham on Nov 24, 2008 16:00:50 GMT -5
((Something like that. But I actually figure that Archie would be more likely to screw up in French. That's my excuse, anyway.))
Archie had drawn up to his full height by then, (although it wasn't all that full, Archibald being a very slight man, which, in the extravagance of his wigs and the wire-aided, feminine construct of the skirts of his coats, only served to heighten the vaguely unsettling effect of his antics), and had a look of slight wonderment at the viscount's words. He had had enough experience with servants in his time to know how lazy they could be - and had been one often enough to recognize the reasons why - but it did not fit in with the atmosphere he had around the man, a servant who failed to send cards when it was required of him.
Archie did not have a simplistic view of the world, but even as he knew there was a lack of sincerity in the Frenchman's words, he did not place why that might be - for him, artificiality was still the truth - and so did not guess at any ruse, being effectively caught in it. "How very unsatisfactory," he said, voice soft, almost intimate - particularly so in such a private setting - a little smile lifting the corners of his lips. His fingers tangled thoughtlessly in the rolled curls of the wig in the same coy fashion he was often seen to employ as he spoke. "I really think he ought to be beaten. On anyone else of your station, it might reflect poorly."
And it was flattery, but Archie found he meant it, for Valmont behaved appropriately, and his composure upon entering had left an impression that a more flustered, less imposing man would not have, with or without a card. Archie smiled further and tilted his head, his hand moving from the coiffure to gesture with economic ease - yet with a flourish - to the chaise, inviting him to be seated.
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Post by Valmont on Nov 24, 2008 17:42:37 GMT -5
It was astonishing, really, to witness one so given to airs be so absolutely transparent in his reactions. Not entirely unheard of, in the average fop, but Valmont had rarely seen a specimen of such perfect artifice. He took Archie's flattery with a purse-lipped smile and the offered seat with a casual grace and a nod of his head.
"No doubt," he mused idly, as if the question of his man's beating had already been decided but was of little current interest, for Valmont expected not to have the same trouble again merely be virtue of his displeasure. "Though I'm afraid I must take some of the blame for hiring such an unsuitable character in the first place. Good help, you know, is so hard to find." He delivered this cliche was if it was the most original thing in the world, and altogether his air was one of proud resignation.
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Post by Archie Cunningham on Nov 25, 2008 10:48:54 GMT -5
Archie moved to the chaise longue with the air of one strolling and picked up his stationary box, cradling it in a somewhat intimate fashion, unconsciously stroking the lock with his fingertips. His sympathy in this matter was unrealistic, but he felt it as keenly as he felt anything, which was not extremely. And more than this, he felt very drawn to be in this man's confidence. He felt the sort of intimacy a schoolgirl sharing secrets feels, which was not so uncommon in him, but was not an impulse that had been encouraged in him by circumstance - not before this time.
Archie placed the box on a low table and returned, sitting gently beside him with an angelic smile, perfectly tinged with empathy. "Dreadfully so," he said, at his most understanding. "How does anyone manage?"
((I just found a bunch of awesome Youtube videos with Archie in them. I am totally adding them to his profile.))
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Post by Valmont on Nov 25, 2008 12:38:17 GMT -5
Cunningham was just eating this up, and Valmont could see it. He looked over at him with an expression of surprised appreciation. "Oh, do you find it so, as well?" he said. "If only one could trust such business to anyone. I fear the common classes are simply not equipped for such delicate work, but what can one do? We are at their mercy, entirely."
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Post by Archie Cunningham on Nov 25, 2008 14:48:04 GMT -5
Archie's own greatest identity problem was in the matter of his class - he had been raised among the upper classes and had had assistance from his mother's various patrons in his raising, and each of them had been sure he got the best education and had the best clothes and was the most well-bred he could be - and so while he was not inclined to treat himself as one of the lower classes, he was quite aware that he was not Valmont's equal, and could not at all pretend to be. In fact, his capacity to register humiliation was startlingly nonexistent.
"Not entirely, if I may contradict," said Archie, almost sensitively, still smiling. He tilted his head as though quite surprised. "Such is the work that I have always performed. As you can see, I am very well-mannered. I don't disappoint." It was a testament to both his breeding and his whoredom that even as he advertised himself thus, he did not at all consider for a moment that Valmont might have had this in mind in coming here.
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Post by Valmont on Nov 25, 2008 15:19:58 GMT -5
Cunningham, thought Valmont, was like a dog so eager to please his master that he mimicked his posture and envied his coat and nearly forgot he wasn't a man. And yet his doggy nature kept him from becoming any kind of threat to the master.
Valmont raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Oh?" he said. "I was not aware you were for hire." Which Archie could take as a compliment to his class mimicry or his professional attributes. "Surely a man of your excellent capabilities is in high demand in several quarters."
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Post by Archie Cunningham on Nov 25, 2008 15:33:34 GMT -5
Archie smiled further, delicately folding his hands in his lap, where he downcast his eyes. Only a blush was missing to complete the picture, but Archie would have had to recognize the wolfish flattery held in the words to blush, and in truth he was almost confused as to why Valmont would have said so. If he were more aware, he would certainly have given thought to the suspect words "for hire" and "in several quarters" and very much blushed, but caught up in decorum it did not occur to him to lend such meanings to those phrases, although he certainly might have under other circumstances, given his upbringing.
"I can see how one might think so," said Archie, modestly fiddling with his shirt cuff as though he felt he would blush if he looked Valmont in the eye. "But I am scarcely so well-known in Paris, and just as I was nearing to be in London, my mother thought it beneficial to my education to ship me off to Scotland. I've only just returned a short time ago and feel positively behind in today's market."
((It's actually hard to write for Archie. I feel vicarious humiliation or bruised ego on his part and I know he doesn't feel that way, and it's damned hard to write it out. <.<))
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Post by Valmont on Nov 25, 2008 17:12:26 GMT -5
"A pity," Valmont said, his head tilted solicitously as he gazed at the man, wondering at how utterly unconscious he seemed of the potential meaning of Valmont's words. He turned his attention to the back of the chaise, as if something mildly interesting had diverted him. "Well, these are hard times, of course, and there is no guarantee of work for any man, no matter his talents." Valmont knew nothing of the kind, of course--hard times or not were all the same to him. "And you do seem like a man who craves occupation."
((I know what you mean. I find it difficult to imagine being as ruthless as Valmont.))
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Post by Archie Cunningham on Nov 25, 2008 17:58:03 GMT -5
Hard times? Were they? Archie supposed he should pay better attention to economic matters. He had never been especially skilled in finances, though; he imagined it couldn't be helped. He tilted his head and turned his knees slightly so as to appear more cordial and open to Valmont's conversation, passive in it but encouraging forwardness well. His statement directed at Archie did provoke a bit of a flutter, however, mainly because having someone else take note of his cravings, so to speak, was a peculiar thing. He would not have imagined it, normally. But he did find boredom to be dreadful and unsettling, and so Valmont was very right.
"You are so correct," he murmured, in a manner that he might have said any number of other, less proper things in more appropriately, eyes flickering briefly up towards Valmont's appreciativeely from beneath his lowered eyelids before dropping again, lashes quivering. "I simply can't think of what to do with myself. It is only the societal climate in Paris that keeps me sane; Scotland was terribly backwards, but I did have some occupation there."
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