At this point in his life, parties are a regular occurrence in Jekyll's home. It's what you do in his circles, a part of his social standing. To not at least attend affairs regularly would be right strange and invite plenty of gossip, and he certainly wouldn't want anyone thinking there was something queer about him (in any sense of the word). But of course he has to go the extra mile to be the ideal he aspires to. It would be especially strange for a young and successful bachelor not to be social, and there's a certain expectation that wealth should be spent, after all.
Usually it's a more private affair over dinner, but once in a while, something more grand with quite an open invitation. And during those times he's a particularly gracious host, sure to greet and chat with every guest at some point - sooner rather than later, at that. Only it's odd to find someone he doesn't recognise without anyone around to introduce them. It's rude to assume they haven't met, he can't just introduce himself - on the other hand, this being his home might be similar to a mutual acquaintance? And with her apparent foreign nationality, surely he would better remember, had they ever met. Finally after worrying over the point for some time, Jekyll weaves his way through the room to Paloma.
He ducks his head into a bow, offering his hand, palm up. Through gloves, of course. "Good evening, miss, I don't believe we've made one another's acquaintance?"
Prove to me, her sire had said, Paloma's wrist held tightly in the iron vice of his grip. Do not force me to think of you in shame. And he'd let her go, smiling as the carriage opened and manmade lights spilled out over their feet.
Old protests-- I did not mean to, I did not mean to hurt them-- died then on her tongue. Discomfort was, and is, a boiling knot of lava behind Paloma's ribs. It's a test when Carlos abandons her near a painting to survive and thrive alone, but she knows where his eyes will be.
She slides the shawl a little further up, pretending to be transfixed by the painted landscape. Admiring art never offended a soul.
From experience (experiences arranged exclusively by Carlos) she knows to expect a gracious host's appearance at some point during the night. Jekyll's approach leaves her ample time to tongue the blunted sheath where fangs used to be, and turn with a smile as pretty as a pinned butterfly.
"Good evening to you as well. I've never had the pleasure." He'll find it a thickly accented rasp, something accustomed to sharper vowels. Her own black gloves fit lightly over his palm. "You are the Dr. Henry Jekyll? I am here with my husband, Carlos-- Vasquez."
One wrong already, Mrs, not Miss. He could almost cringe for his mistake. This is why you don't do introductions this way, there are bound to be mistakes made.
But he smiles through it, raising her hand to his lips, a simple thing when he finds her accent so charming. The Doctor Henry Jekyll - it isn't improper usage necessarily, but he hardly deserves that sort of emphasis!
"I am." Jekyll smiles, dipping his head again. "How lovely to meet you, Mrs Vasquez. You must make my introduction to your husband later. As we are only meeting now, and you appeared so terribly lost, I take it you have only arrived in London recently?" Besides other aural and visual clues, but that certainly wouldn't be a polite comment to make.
He's already been forgiven the mistake, judging from how Paloma has forgotten to do any particular thing with her half-open fan. It hovers aside.
Dazzled, and with a twinge in doing so, she slips her hand regretfully back to herself. Carlos didn't say the host was tall, or striking, and of course he never mentioned he had a voice to which she would gladly listen if he recounted a hundred shipping manifests--
She mimics his dip and snaps open the silk fan with her left hand, hiding the lower part of her face. Yes, she should like to be acquainted. "Very recently, yes. We have only seen London for a few weeks now. I have been ill and not able to see very much, but tonight I am here. I am lovely to here," Paloma tries to correct herself, emitting a quiet and frustrated squeak. "I meant, it is lovely to see you?"
He tries not to laugh, so she doesn't think he's laughing at her. Yes it's because of the wording mixup, but only because there's something endearing about it. But he does, lips pressed together to try to keep the smile in check at least.
"You are lovely to here - and to hear." And she has such grace, so evident in the handling of her fan. But for all that, it's another thing entirely that ultimately draws his attention. "If you have been ill of late, there is no better company to keep, there are more medical professionals here than any other place in the world right now! If you wish to escape the crowd at all, I would be glad to escort you to a private room to rest. - Moreover, do call upon me at any time for my services?"
Paloma is more than a bit embarrassed by the flub, and past his ear she can see Carlos's face turned toward the pair of them.
He will scold her. She knows. A thin tremor runs through the line of her mouth; the fan twirls without changing hands. Carlos cannot see it from where he stands, and there is no other way to talk ...
Eyes averted, "You are so kind. I thank my husband for helping me to become-- to get better." No. No, no, no, the doctor is so beautiful and generous, she does not want to think of the things her sire said. "But it is amazing, so many doctors! They talk of you the most?"
He doesn't catch the fan movement immediately, but after a moment, and and paired with her look, he sees that it may have been an intentional communication. Although why should there be any reason to quietly say they're being watched? It could only mean it's her husband, but is he so jealous that she can't even speak with the host at a party? That hardly seems right, besides which, why even attend if that's the case? Some people. Jekyll can't help the frown that crosses his face. Yes he buys into the strict ways of the time, but that's going too far - especially if the illness isn't deal, if it's a cover for this behaviour.
"Talk of me? No, no, hardly. I am only one of so many, there would be no cause to speak of me above the rest. Perhaps I might be a popular topic in my own home, if you have been hearing murmurs, but surely nothing else!" What an embarrassing question, really. "They must be gossiping about me."
Very cognizant that her judgment of a strangers' character is not the honed instinct it could be while her sire simultaneously shelters and punishes Paloma for naivete, she doesn't want Henry Jekyll to misstep and suffer. She's certain that her husband would leave him sick from blood loss as soon as bandy words.
(When will Carlos marry the young monster he created? He promises and promises.)
The fan returns to its first position. It is not the friendliness she'll be shouted at for, but the steps are difficult and his language more so. "I have not said words to them, but yes, there are gossips a lot." That sentence may be off, too, but she glides past it hurriedly. "London is so much talk, I like it. Carlos says we shall stay forever."
He likes to throw around 'forever' until it loses meaning. She peers at Jekyll with interest colored by desperation to remain.
How could he ever manage to misstep, when Jekyll is always so painfully aware of social etiquette? He wouldn't with an unwed woman, and he certain wouldn't with another man's wife. No, the gossip around him must be very well the opposite - isn't it about time he married, he shouldn't wait too long, plenty of clearly interested young ladies he pays no more than courtesies to. (But hey, at least it's better as a man, there's no worry of being an old maid at 25!)
"It seems to be a favourite pasttime around here." He laughs. The way she strings her sentences together really is lovely. "I hope you do remain, and that the tall tales and invasion of privacy never reaches you. It can be a bit much, truthfully." It's more that he doesn't approve. As he sees it, it actually contradicts their societal rules, it's improper. But then, if people can't have their own misdeeds, maybe they have to live vicariously through thinking about what others might get up to.
The noise of London is easy to become lost in, which is what she appreciates and lacks the mastery over social engagement to convey in English. Paloma draws the fan across her eyes... and then studies the painting.
"Our privacy is a big problem-- no, I am sorry, it is not a worry; it matters very much in family." Her heritage will, however, make it an issue. "In truth I do not like touching a weapon, and gossip is like an ugly blade. There is no beauty."
"I am certainly able to understand such a sentiment."
He watches Paloma looking at the painting, coupled with the sort of musicality of her voice and her choice of words and metaphor, it's very poetic. An art piece in and of itself. "Do you have a particular appreciation for art, Mrs. Vasquez?" There are certainly many artworks to be seen around the house. But the pride and joy, the one most on display, is a large portrait of Jekyll's father.
Or was that part of the fan language- wait, what? But she doesn't even know him, and she's married-- Jekyll can't save himself from the colour that rises in his face. Very dangerous with gossips around.
Her ears pick up his accelerated heartbeat before the blush registers. Oh no, oh no, has she misspoken? Was it the wrong gesture? This is her first night using the accessory outside the relative safety of home--
The mortification is as visible in her large eyes as it is in Jekyll's face. Paloma clasps both hands beneath her traitor fan, white-knuckled: forgive me, I pray you, please.
"I bear great love for art," she whisper-rasps earnestly, eloquent solely due to familiarity with the subject. "Even though I have less grace with the words to give justice. I must practice more." It is as much an apology as a declaration for artwork.
If only Jekyll had a fan to keep up his end of this silent part of the conversation! He seems to have no way to tell her she's easily forgiven, of course it's a simple mistake, confused in translation. Other than to quickly put in, "It's quite alright!" He isn't exactly unused to such gestures...the real problem is that they do come with a twinge of guilt on his part, not so much the embarrassment.
And then, as if to link it in to the spoken conversation, make it a part of that for anyone who might hear, "You have more grace with them than most, it is not all in precise wording, after all. Which vein of art most captures your interest?"
Although her hold loosens, it stays where it is as if in preparation for more apologies.
Relief is apparent in how Paloma exhales. For Jekyll she shares a quick smile, tempered by eagerness to look elsewhere. The painting on the wall is a convenient focal point. No gossip to be founded there ...
"You do flatter me." Her finger twitches subconsciously to curl around an imagined stick of charcoal. "Portraits. I hear them called mundane, but to show the best piece of a man or woman-- there is pride in the piece. To share a portrait is sharing the pride of an artist and their person. It is like immortality."
Like sharing the pride of an artist and their person - like immortality. He positively beams, lighting up. "I entirely agree! There is so much to be captured in a portrait, it can be more breathtaking than any other artform. Whether a loved one or a stranger, there is something to be discovered of a person through such work." And a good way to remember someone as well. ...Or keep them around to watch you always as a detriment to misdeed.
Paloma quite forgets her fan and any language to be used therein, taken with his light and responding with a girlish grin of her own. Anyone who can stand to face the sun should do so in joy, shouldn't they?
After weeks of social deprivation, dependent on the maid for access to the wealth of London, he may as well be her sun.
"One night I hope for such a pride. To share love and--"
"Paloma?"
His voice. Carlos is calling, making his excuses to another man, unperturbed to any looking on. He is only being careful. Her smile changes back to the uneasiness of a butterfly in frozen display. "You are hosting a grand event, and I am greedy."
He has always been too excitable, without a doubt his worst trait. Far more extreme in his emotions than he would like, they're much more evident on his face than they should be, and especially in any happiness or eagerness. It's too much for polite society, he should be more mild. But he's quite forgotten himself now with this topic. Until they're interrupted. Ah, right. He must be making a fool of himself right now, and he should move on to keep that in check.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Jekyll smiles and bows his head again. Deference to the call of a husband. Although the shift in her expression isn't missed. "Another time then. Good evening, Mrs. Vasquez, it has been a pleasure."
"Likewise," she assures him. "I hope to meet on another path."
When her sire frets less over whom Paloma may insult or do grave harm to. Before he takes her away, when Carlos is looking somewhere else, she spares a wistful glance for Jekyll.
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moritat2015-08-17 04:59 pm
no subject
Usually it's a more private affair over dinner, but once in a while, something more grand with quite an open invitation. And during those times he's a particularly gracious host, sure to greet and chat with every guest at some point - sooner rather than later, at that. Only it's odd to find someone he doesn't recognise without anyone around to introduce them. It's rude to assume they haven't met, he can't just introduce himself - on the other hand, this being his home might be similar to a mutual acquaintance? And with her apparent foreign nationality, surely he would better remember, had they ever met. Finally after worrying over the point for some time, Jekyll weaves his way through the room to Paloma.
He ducks his head into a bow, offering his hand, palm up. Through gloves, of course. "Good evening, miss, I don't believe we've made one another's acquaintance?"
no subject
Old protests-- I did not mean to, I did not mean to hurt them-- died then on her tongue. Discomfort was, and is, a boiling knot of lava behind Paloma's ribs. It's a test when Carlos abandons her near a painting to survive and thrive alone, but she knows where his eyes will be.
She slides the shawl a little further up, pretending to be transfixed by the painted landscape. Admiring art never offended a soul.
From experience (experiences arranged exclusively by Carlos) she knows to expect a gracious host's appearance at some point during the night. Jekyll's approach leaves her ample time to tongue the blunted sheath where fangs used to be, and turn with a smile as pretty as a pinned butterfly.
"Good evening to you as well. I've never had the pleasure." He'll find it a thickly accented rasp, something accustomed to sharper vowels. Her own black gloves fit lightly over his palm. "You are the Dr. Henry Jekyll? I am here with my husband, Carlos-- Vasquez."
no subject
But he smiles through it, raising her hand to his lips, a simple thing when he finds her accent so charming. The Doctor Henry Jekyll - it isn't improper usage necessarily, but he hardly deserves that sort of emphasis!
"I am." Jekyll smiles, dipping his head again. "How lovely to meet you, Mrs Vasquez. You must make my introduction to your husband later. As we are only meeting now, and you appeared so terribly lost, I take it you have only arrived in London recently?" Besides other aural and visual clues, but that certainly wouldn't be a polite comment to make.
no subject
Dazzled, and with a twinge in doing so, she slips her hand regretfully back to herself. Carlos didn't say the host was tall, or striking, and of course he never mentioned he had a voice to which she would gladly listen if he recounted a hundred shipping manifests--
She mimics his dip and snaps open the silk fan with her left hand, hiding the lower part of her face. Yes, she should like to be acquainted. "Very recently, yes. We have only seen London for a few weeks now. I have been ill and not able to see very much, but tonight I am here. I am lovely to here," Paloma tries to correct herself, emitting a quiet and frustrated squeak. "I meant, it is lovely to see you?"
no subject
"You are lovely to here - and to hear." And she has such grace, so evident in the handling of her fan. But for all that, it's another thing entirely that ultimately draws his attention. "If you have been ill of late, there is no better company to keep, there are more medical professionals here than any other place in the world right now! If you wish to escape the crowd at all, I would be glad to escort you to a private room to rest. - Moreover, do call upon me at any time for my services?"
no subject
He will scold her. She knows. A thin tremor runs through the line of her mouth; the fan twirls without changing hands. Carlos cannot see it from where he stands, and there is no other way to talk ...
Eyes averted, "You are so kind. I thank my husband for helping me to become-- to get better." No. No, no, no, the doctor is so beautiful and generous, she does not want to think of the things her sire said. "But it is amazing, so many doctors! They talk of you the most?"
no subject
"Talk of me? No, no, hardly. I am only one of so many, there would be no cause to speak of me above the rest. Perhaps I might be a popular topic in my own home, if you have been hearing murmurs, but surely nothing else!" What an embarrassing question, really. "They must be gossiping about me."
no subject
(When will Carlos marry the young monster he created? He promises and promises.)
The fan returns to its first position. It is not the friendliness she'll be shouted at for, but the steps are difficult and his language more so. "I have not said words to them, but yes, there are gossips a lot." That sentence may be off, too, but she glides past it hurriedly. "London is so much talk, I like it. Carlos says we shall stay forever."
He likes to throw around 'forever' until it loses meaning. She peers at Jekyll with interest colored by desperation to remain.
no subject
"It seems to be a favourite pasttime around here." He laughs. The way she strings her sentences together really is lovely. "I hope you do remain, and that the tall tales and invasion of privacy never reaches you. It can be a bit much, truthfully." It's more that he doesn't approve. As he sees it, it actually contradicts their societal rules, it's improper. But then, if people can't have their own misdeeds, maybe they have to live vicariously through thinking about what others might get up to.
no subject
The noise of London is easy to become lost in, which is what she appreciates and lacks the mastery over social engagement to convey in English. Paloma draws the fan across her eyes... and then studies the painting.
"Our privacy is a big problem-- no, I am sorry, it is not a worry; it matters very much in family." Her heritage will, however, make it an issue. "In truth I do not like touching a weapon, and gossip is like an ugly blade. There is no beauty."
no subject
He watches Paloma looking at the painting, coupled with the sort of musicality of her voice and her choice of words and metaphor, it's very poetic. An art piece in and of itself. "Do you have a particular appreciation for art, Mrs. Vasquez?" There are certainly many artworks to be seen around the house. But the pride and joy, the one most on display, is a large portrait of Jekyll's father.
Or was that part of the fan language- wait, what? But she doesn't even know him, and she's married-- Jekyll can't save himself from the colour that rises in his face. Very dangerous with gossips around.
no subject
The mortification is as visible in her large eyes as it is in Jekyll's face. Paloma clasps both hands beneath her traitor fan, white-knuckled: forgive me, I pray you, please.
"I bear great love for art," she whisper-rasps earnestly, eloquent solely due to familiarity with the subject. "Even though I have less grace with the words to give justice. I must practice more." It is as much an apology as a declaration for artwork.
no subject
And then, as if to link it in to the spoken conversation, make it a part of that for anyone who might hear, "You have more grace with them than most, it is not all in precise wording, after all. Which vein of art most captures your interest?"
no subject
Relief is apparent in how Paloma exhales. For Jekyll she shares a quick smile, tempered by eagerness to look elsewhere. The painting on the wall is a convenient focal point. No gossip to be founded there ...
"You do flatter me." Her finger twitches subconsciously to curl around an imagined stick of charcoal. "Portraits. I hear them called mundane, but to show the best piece of a man or woman-- there is pride in the piece. To share a portrait is sharing the pride of an artist and their person. It is like immortality."
no subject
no subject
After weeks of social deprivation, dependent on the maid for access to the wealth of London, he may as well be her sun.
"One night I hope for such a pride. To share love and--"
"Paloma?"
His voice. Carlos is calling, making his excuses to another man, unperturbed to any looking on. He is only being careful. Her smile changes back to the uneasiness of a butterfly in frozen display. "You are hosting a grand event, and I am greedy."
no subject
Clasping his hands behind his back, Jekyll smiles and bows his head again. Deference to the call of a husband. Although the shift in her expression isn't missed. "Another time then. Good evening, Mrs. Vasquez, it has been a pleasure."
no subject
When her sire frets less over whom Paloma may insult or do grave harm to. Before he takes her away, when Carlos is looking somewhere else, she spares a wistful glance for Jekyll.