entrancelogs | It is a Rare Vintage... [Complete]

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It is a Rare Vintage... [Complete]

Who: The Marquis, Jack Harkness
Where Fifth Floor, Room 25 -- The Marquis' Room
When: Mid-Afternoon
Rating: PG -- with potential for escalation. Will Edit if so!
Summary: "Care for a splash of wine, Captain?"
the Story: From outside, a difference from the makeup of the rest of the floor was already evident in the heavy wooden door that stood there, with sliding iron grates both at eye level and down closer to the floor. Missing the heavy locks only, it almost resembled the portal to an ancient cell, taken from some dreary dungeon of yesteryear. A knock and entering brought the onlooker into a room with stone walls arching up to the ceiling. Each wave seemed to join with others at singular points in the roof, folding together as petals of a mason flower. The room, itself, stood positively stuffed; the walls adorned with paintings and sketches (some of an alluring context) of all various sorts, statues of a similar taste, shelves stuffed with aged books, so many that they've had to be stacked horizontally, and all manner of strange figurines -- some notably are carved phalli, made of various stones and even glass, others are busts -- full figures -- all of a sexual nature. A four-poster, curtained bed lay in the subchamber beyond, lying open -- notably hung on the wall at the head is what appears to be a complete human ribcage and spinal cord. In the front room there are desks, with many quills lying about, sheafs of paper, pots of ink, and near the bookshelves lies a very lavishly built chair for relaxing that has seen better days, and a footstool that appears to be made of human bones.

The chair, accompanied by a chaise, lay situated near a fireplace that dominated part of the northern wall. A small table stood between the two of them, upon which lay two crystal goblets and a decanter of wine. It was there that the Marquis de Sade stood. Even as an inmate he had been the best of gentlemen toward his guests, and now was no different -- though this was really what? Only the second or third guest he'd taken since his arrival. With all hope this one would be staying longer than the rest as well.

"Welcome, Captain," he said smoothly. In a gesture of fellowship, he motioned toward the chaise, then set to serving a drink for the two of them. "Do make yourself comfortable."

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"Don't mind if I do," Jack replied taking in the room as he sat down.

He was noticeably impressed by the set-up. Granted the bones were a bit much, but the rest...

He expected he could easily grow to like the Marquis.

If the Captain was at all unsettled by anything in his surroundings, he did not show it, and for that, the Marquis was impressed. It took the Abbe a good month before he could pass into the writer's chambers without blushing. Then again -- holy men did not represent all men, now did they? He did notice a particular eye fall upon his stool, however, and that he understood. In truth, even the appearance of human bones throughout the room suggested no particular fiendishness on his part, just a love for oddities.

The Marquis offered Harkness a full goblet and returned to his chair to sit, rolling the glass in one hand appreciatively. One thing he would hand to this place -- the wine was lovely, so much better than the swill made in the cellars of Charenton. "Bottoms up," he said cheerily before taking in a good portion from his own goblet. He moved it about in his mouth, for a moment savoring the full flavor before swallowing.

Yes -- the way things had unfolded so far had filled the Marquis with very high spirits.

"So tell me, Captain -- before coming here, what was your occupation? Military? Maritime?"

Jack took the proffered goblet, raising his glass with an amused grin at the Marquis’ toast. It was indeed fine wine, Jack discovered as he took a sip. Not being as much of a drinker as he had once been, only served to add to his of the wine.

"I’m ex-military,” Jack replied, and whilst that wasn’t the exact question, it was the answer Jack had become accustomed to giving when people inquired after his title. “The title’s left over from when I served in the RAF.”

"RAF?" he inquired, knowing full well he'd never heard of such a thing. The Marquis sat back in his chair, feeling immediately at ease. The last time he'd really enjoyed a drink with a friendly face had been just as all that business with Royer-Collard started. Things hadn't been perfect before then, but he'd been closer to contentment than he had felt himself to be in years. It made him distrust the moment a little, which sent him into further conversation. "I served a while, myself. Seven Years' War -- a captain as well, no less." Looking at him, he shrugged. "May not amount to the same thing. I achieved my rank by little more than a lucky birth and showing up. You look like the sort that worked for it." And quite well, by the looks of it, he thought -- the only sign of those words moving through his mind a small, appreciative smile.

"Royal Air Force... I think it was founded 1918, or there about."

"A fellow captain, huh?" Jack leaned back, noting the appreciative smile. Used to them as he was, he never grew tired of them. "I must admit, I originally got the rank through luck myself." It wasn't quite a lie, more a matter of leaving out details than anything else. In some ways his former partner had been right, once you were conman, some things never changed.

"1918." The Marquis' head hit the back of the chair with a soundless 'thud'. He knew people in this place were from different times (and probably different worlds, but his sense of logic did not care to entertain such a stupid notion, ever), but hearing it still tended to take the breath away. But this boy had sewn his wild oats well a century after he would have been interred, and that was -- well, a difficult concept to grasp. People born a hundred years apart did not sit and share drinks on a normal basis, after all. "You'll have to forgive me," he explained. "That still takes some getting used to."

Jack was more than used to others finding the concept a little hard to grasp. Mentioning his original time line, or place of birth for that matter, would do nothing to help the Marquis. Instead Jack waited for that to register, taking the opportunity to all but empty his goblet.

"Understandable. Most people here have quite a lot of difficulty getting used to the idea."

"I've spent far too much time with the world consisting only of four walls, I am afraid," the Marquis admitted, draining his glass before sitting forward. He took up the decanter, pausing it over the goblet before looking at the Captain. "Would you care for more?"

Jack gave a nod of affirmation, allowing his goblet to be refilled.

He leaned back in his seat, looking at his surroundings once more. "Interesting collection you have here," he commented, indicating one of the busts with his free hand. His tone was inquisitive, but not demanding. Though he certainly hoped for some elaboration.

Both goblets topped off, the Marquis settled back in his chair comfortably, propping a foot on the stool as he eyed his guest. Another gulp of wine passed his lips, and he shut his eyes, relaxed, as the Captain once again spoke. "Ah yes." He opened an eye to glance up at the line of figures and busts and sculptures, all elaborate, all unique, and he smiled as each and every one brought back a particular memory.

"Do you like them? I purchased some in my travels in my youth, but others were crafted after my internment, by request."

The latter part referred to those that seemed more fit for -- practical use, rather than display. Of course none of the ones he actually used were laid out in plain sight. The more ornamental ones merely had a place on the mantle as decoration.

He indicated one particular statue, which appeared to be a human head, made up of all manner of human bodies joined writhing together. "That one, in particular, came to me all the way from Sumatra."

"Sumatra, huh?"

Jack took another swallow of his wine, turning to look at the statue the Marquis was showing him. "Was that one done during your internment, or did you travel there?"

"It was sent to me as a gift while I was inhabiting the Bastille," he remarked. "In those earlier years I still had a friend or two to count on, who would come across such amusements in their travels and think of me. It is one of my favorites -- it takes quite an imagination to craft such a thing in such detail." The sight of it in the light, mixed with the wine slowly creeping to his head, it was as though the figures within the figure were moving -- not doing any great feats, but there seemed almost breath, undulation -- it reminded of him why he liked it so much.

Quite the imagination was putting it mildly, Jack observed keeping his eye on the statue a moment or two longer, before turning his attentions back to the Marquis.

"I can see why you like it, not many sculptors put in so much detail. You must have had quite the reputation, to have friends who gifted you with things like that."

"Libertines merely run in similar circles, my friend. It is rare we encounter like minds, so we make regular account of them." He held up his goblet as though toasting before draining half of it. "And I'm quite fond of my reputation, save that it has only followed me here in such minuscule ways. That's not always a bad thing, however." He smirked. "For that, I have visitors such as you."

Jack laughed slightly, placing his half empty goblet on the table, before leaning forward with a smirk of his own. "Care to elaborate?"

"I would love to," replied the Marquis, choosing not to discard his glass but rather pursue another small sip and indulge in the taste lingering on his tongue. He was likely about to say something stupid, but he had a grand history of being offensive that needed proper upholding. His mind, addled though it was, told him that the Captain was not the sort he was accustomed to sharing time with. There was something more -- unconventional about him, something that smacked of libertine. He didn't seem the type to get squeamish over such a little thing as a man nearly twice his age admitting that his highest hope, at this point, was to get someone into his bed now that he had the freedom to, and that at present, he preferred it be a man.

"Meaning I don't think you are terribly familiar with what, exactly, my full reputation entails," he said purringly. "You have not given me such an impression, anyhow, and that stands a chance of working in my favor."

"You'd be surprised," he answered, not hesitating in his reply. "I'll admit to not knowing any full details... but your reputation precedes you."

His voice dropped, as he continued. "And I don't think you need me to be unfamiliar for things to work in your favor."

The Marquis raised an eyebrow. Even his general presumptions about human nature had failed to prepare him for such a quick response, and he found himself finally setting his drink aside. He sat up straight in his chair, the oddest twitch of his brow betraying a slight loss of nerve. "You are a -- surprising fellow, Captain," he mused -- though not entirely as eloquently as he had hoped. The words breathed past his teeth a little shakily. But he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, now was he?

But then he froze. He did not move, tried to speak though nothing came. For once, his usual quick wit had failed him.

...He was ridiculously out of practice.

The Marquis shook his head to clear it. "You are certain of that?" he asked, some of the control coming back into his voice. He tilted his head to the side in an inquiring manner, attempting to regain some of that earlier confidence, some of what he'd built up before the man arrived. "The more defects a man may have, the older he is, the less lovable," he rationalized, though in the back of his mind he added, a little triumphantly the more resounding his success! He dared not trust that last part just yet, however.

"That wouldn't be the first time I've been told that," Jack replied with a light chuckle.

Jack couldn't help but frown slightly at the Marquis' words. The confidence that had been there only moments before seemed to have gone almost completely. And though Jack wasn't about to say anything on the subject, his rationalization was something Jack hoped was far from true.

"I wouldn't still be here if I wasn't certain," he pointed out.

He noted the slight frown that found the Captain's face, then. He inwardly scolded himself for stooping to such a passive tactic in the first place. If he wanted someone worshiping and reassuring him, he would have found someone a good deal more naive to do it.

"Well," he said, some of that familiar, predatory gleam returning to his eyes, "If that is the case, then come here."

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It is a Rare Vintage... [Complete]

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