lysistrategic | [For Emily, Arthur] Operation: Homecoming

The sun's setting over the ocean by the time Joan and Arthur emerge from the bedroom. The drink they had before they adjourned had long since been metabolized or sweated out, and the frost-covered walls of Joan's self-defenses have melted and fallen completely. He's back in his slacks and shirt, because they haven't been to the Compound yet, and she's wearing one of her lighter weight dresses in place of the negligee and silk robe she'd wear at home, but she's still draped over his lap, arm around his shoulders. Both of them have fresh drinks in their hands and they're talking, finally, about the island and Joan's life here.

She smiles, breathing deeply, and brushes his bangs off his forehead. It feels like the first full breath she's taken since she got here. "Emily should be home soon," she says, but Joan's not interested in moving off his lap. "Try not to scandalize her too much?" There hasn't been time to tell him very much of anything, but that's all right. It will do well to break the ice.

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From:

carriesabigstick

"I won't guarantee anything." Arthur says on soft chuckle as he brings his glass to his lips, his other arm very comfortably settled around his wife's body, holding her in place. "Though I approve of the caveat too much rather than at all." They've danced to the music with their flirting at public functions many times that it would never be a hardship to perform. His thumb idly stroked the material of her dress.

"So tell me about Emily."

From:

lysistrategic

"You will unless you're inordinately fond of this couch." Joan's eyes dance with a sparkle that matches the one in her husband's, and she's struck, again, how fortunate she is that his trust in her allows him to be so relaxed in such a strange environment when it's what she needs most from him. Her hair's grown longer and her body leaner and firmer, both evident now as she shifts and her hair brushes along his chest.

"Lady Emily Merchant," Joan begins with a hint of a smirk. Both she and Arthur are so terribly found of having information the other doesn't. "Born 1840 to a wealthy British family with no title, married in 1867 by her father's arrangement to Lord Henry Merchant, who had a title but a rather less substantial fortune. It was accounted a good match by everyone, except poor Emily. But that is the boring part of the story." She smiles again, sips her single malt, and adds, "Also the easiest part to believe. Emily didn't arrive on the island from Victorian London, though. In 1867, she stepped into a hole in time and arrived somewhere in the past and then spent three years traveling with 15 or so others through similar holes, fighting dinosaurs--" Her eyebrow lifted at the question she knew would be coming. "No I am not kidding, and then eventually arrived in 2011, met a team of researchers studying the time holes, called anomalies, met a man she loved very much, left him to return to her own time again, and peradventure met him and his team again when he rescued Victorian London from a raptor the press thought was a serial killer called Springheeled Jack, and Emily herself from being committed to Bedlam. She returned to 2011 with them, helped avert a global catastrophe, and then arrived here on the island a few days before I did, when the island had converted itself to a steampunk version of Victorian London."

She brushes Arthur's cheek with her fingertips. "Are you ready to have me committed yet?"

From:

carriesabigstick

If it had been anyone other than Joan, Arthur most definitely would have thought to have them committed or at the very least they were pulling his leg with a very tall tale just to get a reaction. "Not yet." Arthur brought her fingertips to his lips so that he could kiss them. "So your roommate is a time traveling, dinosaur fighting Victorian miss?" His lips curled, "sounds perfect for you."

Not that he believed everything that Joan said. Or rather he didn't believe everything that Emily had likely told Joan but what he said had been the truth. Emily sounded exactly like someone that Joan would like. Or would have been Joan in another life.

From:

ladyanomaly

"Missus, actually. Lady, properly. Emily, preferentially." Emily paused to take off her sun hat. She hadn't meant to intrude but as nothing particularly untoward appeared to be occuring, she was only minimally apologetic. "You must be Arthur. Joan's told me good thing about you."

She shifted her eyes to her roommate and raised her brows. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I won't stay long. I'd thought I might ask you to dinner in the main kitchen."

From:

lysistrategic

Joan knows Emily well enough by now to read the complete non-reaction for what it is: not a lack of surprise that Arthur has arrived, but an absolute certainty that Joan would never be so casual or so free with Emily's information with anyone she trusted less than her husband.

She smiles, eyes brighter than they've been in the time Emily's known her. "Since you've accomplished the introduction, yes, this is Arthur, and don't be ridiculous. Sit, have a drink with us, and we can all go to dinner together. Arthur needs clothes, and I'll need moral support for the atrocities the box is almost certain to want him to wear."

From:

carriesabigstick

"I second Joan. Please join us for a drink and we can all have dinner afterward. It would give us an opportunity to get to know each other and dinner would prolong the charming company."

Arthur looked between the two women. "What this about a clothes box that has any say in what I wear?" He knew that the days of his specially tailored suits were a thing of the past but he'd be damned if he'd wear a Hawaiian floral shirt and surf shorts.

From:

ladyanomaly

Emily was currently wearing a clothing box special herself, floral patterned pants that she'd rolled up to the knee and a vivid teal blouse tied at her waist in an attempt to camouflage the fact that it was three sizes too large. Not the most flattering or inconspicuous outfit, but serviceable enough. She smiled at the question.

"There's a lack of proper tailors on the island, I'm afraid. Most people get clothes from a box in the compound which rather seems to have a mind of its own. Or at least terrible taste of its own." Used to delivering nonsensical explanations for absurd circumstances, Emily hardly looked more than amused. "I've found it's best to not expect too much from it."

From:

lysistrategic

"You didn't imagine I'd taken a sudden liking to sundresses after years of boutiques and custom tailoring, did you?" Joan teases her husband, the warmth in her tone and in her eyes, unmistakable. She trails her fingers down the front of his shirt and straightens the buttons. "I guess I forgot to mention that most of our clothes come from a box that gives up whatever it feels like and nothing more."

True the box gives her more to work with than poor Emily, but Joan supposes that's likely to come to an end soon. All of her good fortune's been spent in Arthur's arrival, and Annie and Auggie (about whom she's told him already) and Emily being here. "Auggie did manage to have a gorgeous dress made for Annie for Christmas, but it was handsewn and I think he's still paying in lessons." She had, of course, warned Arthur that she'd kept her World Bank cover and that Annie and Auggie retained theirs, as well.

"Emily, please." Joan gestured to the bottle and extra glass on the table left for her.

From:

carriesabigstick

He loved his wife, deeply, but Arthur no matter what Joan might say would not believe that four sides of cardboard had any say in what he would or wouldn't wear.

"Auggie's lessons, that I'd like to see." Arthur chuckled wondering how many computers could be on this island. "Well the box can try to give me flowered shirts and board shorts all it wants, but with the exception of Joan, no one is more stubborn than am." It would be the battle of wills and Arthur was not going to lose.

From:

ladyanomaly

Emily exchanged a look with Joan, a bit of pure amusement that came from the female certainty in the face of male arrogance. She poured herself a drink of Joan's scotch and took the open chair in the room. "There are several rather handy tailors on the island. One not need not look like one is dressed from rag bag rejects," was her only commentary on the matter.

"I don't know how quickly I'll be able to find an open hut, so I hope you'll both excuse my presence for another few days." Surely the newly reunited couple would want their own home.

From:

lysistrategic

"Don't be silly, Emily." Joan waves off the concern immediately while giving a fond but amused headshake to Arthur's stubbornness; he would see. Also, she and Arthur are hardly newlyweds to need to christen every available surface at all hours without thought for a housemate. "You're welcome to stay."

Her lips purse lightly, as she'd thought of it earlier but had forgotten in the rush of passion. "I'd consider that we might look into the newer places over in Green Arrow Estates. I believe people usually have to share anyway, but there's a good deal more convenience there. And if not, we can simply put in a request to the building crew for a rather larger home here on the beach, big enough for the three of us--" And Matt, when he arrives, because Joan wishes for that as often as she did for Arthur. "If it's uncomfortable for you, I won't stop you, but Arthur and I will be pleased for the company."

She gave Arthur one of those wifely looks that said yes they would be pleased and he very well better agree with her.

From:

carriesabigstick

Arthur got the silent signal but it was wasted on him as he naturally agreed with Joan and his flash of a dimple in his smile revealed that fact. "We won't take no for an answer. You might have noticed that when Joan sets her mind on something it's usually accomplished. It's a trait we share. As she said if my being here is awkward for you, we certainly understand."

He'd chosen his words carefully with an attempt to sway her into acceptance out of politeness for making him not feel like he was pushing her out of her home.

From:

ladyanomaly

Emily looked from one smiling American to the next and while she didn't doubt their sincerity, neither was she fooled into thinking she was being anything other than very neatly handled. There was no profit in arguing however, so she lifted her hand, palms up, in a gesture of surrender.

"In my travels, I've lived far closer to people I knew less well and in a great deal less comfort. I'll stay for now and consider my options. Thank you, both." Emily folded her hands again. "Give me a moment to change for dinner, please?"

From:

lysistrategic

"Good, then it's settled--" Joan replies, the for now notably absent, and Arthur certainly knows her well enough to know she means it is settled unless new issues arise and Emily has had ample time to become acquainted with Joan's decisiveness. Actually, Joan often wonders that they don't argue more than they do. Emily's every bit as stubborn as she and Arthur both are. Maybe she finds no need to argue with something that makes simple sense.

Whatever the reason, Joan nods at Emily while lifting her glass for another sip of her drink. "Take as much time as you need. We'll wait."

From:

carriesabigstick

Arthur silently amused by Joan's comment about settled and wondered how many times stubborn had met stubborn. Probably quite a lot.

"Of course, as Joan said, take all the time that you need."