[CLOSED] spare a listen for a helpless fool

[nascensibility]

Who: Evelyn O'Connell (nascensibility), Philip LaFresque (radiopalkiller), Sam Winchester (ofletters), Dean Winchester (ganking)
Where: 5th floor, Rooms 013 & 499
When: February 16th
Rating: PG-13+ for Dean's filthy mouth
Summary: Having not taken kindly to a holiday confession, Evelyn seeks asylum where she can get it.
The Story:

Philip-

I'm changing rooms for a little while. May I come see you some time today?

-Evie

[Her thumb hovers over the little SEND button for a long moment, wondering whether he'd care to know and, if he did, what sort of response her explanation would garner. It's nothing, really, just a change of scenery. Well, that and the man with whom I've been having an affair has been lying to me for months and I thought some self-enforced distance might do the trick. Pass the honey for the tea, would you?]

Mmh.

[The message delivers and she tucks the communicator away with a small sound of frustration, gazing across her room at the camera on her desk. Engaging in a staring contest with an inanimate object not being on the day's agenda she moves across the little parlour, snatching the contraption up and shoving it into a drawer.

Out of sight, out of mind.

...which is a perfectly nonsensical aphorism when held up to her intentions, her decision to take several steps (and building levels) away being the result of her proximity to a particular resident of the first floor. Evelyn needs space to breathe, to think, to...to channel the anger and hurt into something else until she can decide how she wants to move in a way that isn't nauseating.

The sensation is very much like being a bird baffled by the reflection on a window, dashed against the glass and lying on a strange patio. There is the off-chance that someone might wander by, scoop it up and put it in a tissue-lined hatbox with holes poked in the top, but Evelyn has never been the sort of person to wait around for help to come. A neutral, warm, safe place is something acquired by asking.

Evelyn pulls on a jumper and several minutes later sees her knocking on Sam's door, hoping for a hatbox.]

Comments

text;

[glumshoe]

Your key went blank. I understand.

text;

[nascensibility]

[She almost doesn't reply.]

I need space.

text;

[glumshoe]

[ It's no stretch of the imagination to think so. She'd be right not to. ]

I'll leave you alone.

action;

[ofletters]

[ Another day, another knock on the door. He's been getting more visitors than usual lately which, for Sam, is... kind of strange. Not unheard of (since hunters spend their lives answering calls, texts, e-mails, knocks at doors from strangers), but strange all the same. In Wonderland, anyway.

But, there it is. Knock knock. Minnie gets there first, slow and attentive, sitting near the door and glancing back as if asking permission. Sam, smiling affectionately at her, scoops up the little dog and pulls open the door. ]

Hey! What's-- [ Something's up. He doesn't know about her conversation with Will or about what she's learned, but he can read faces, detect little tics. ] ... You okay?

action;

[nascensibility]

[It's strange for Evelyn to seek help and it's strange for her to not be in the library at this hour in the day, but the world is full of strange things and Sam's unexpected guest will be yet another in a long line of inexplicable happenings. A half-hearted smile ekes its way across Evelyn's face at his greeting before he picks up on her upset.

She never did have a very good poker face.]

Erm...no. No, I'm-

[Evelyn smoothes her hands over her face and then down the sides of her neck, huffing.]

I can't think of any other way to say it, so I'll just- I'll just come out with it, then: this is terribly awkward of me and you have my most- my most sincere apologies, but I'm moving rooms at the moment and wondered if it would be a frightful imposition to stay with you - just for a day or two, mind, I- I wouldn't get in the way, but something's come up and...and I just needed a...safe place.

action;

[ofletters]

No-- Evie, no, it's fine. Just-- Come in.

[ Stunned and answering out of complete instinct, Sam steps aside to let her pass. His mouth is slightly open in stark confusion and it actually takes him a minute to move from where he's planted. ]

What happened? [ Question one. He looks very hard at her face, at her conflicted, frantic expression. Thinks over her words, tries to make some sense, any sense, out of them. ]

Are you okay? Are you-- Hurt?

[nascensibility]

[What hurts is not physical in the sense that it can be seen - the ache in her chest and the gnawing anxiety forcing her stomach to flip like a circus performer is heavy, a burden in itself, but her life here is not a reenactment of The Perils of Pauline and Evelyn is not keen on waiting for the pain to go away. (She knows that it won't.)

Were that the case, she would not have moved rooms, spoken to Philip, walked to Sam's door.]

No,

[Evelyn replies out of reflex, accustomed to employing denial and brushing off bad feelings in the hopes that the subject will change to something else, like the weather, or the current political climate in Germany.]

No, it- I'm fine. [A beat.] I mean, I'm not fine, but I'm fine.

[Sensing that her redundant and vaguely homonymic foray into her current state of being is not exceptionally helpful, Evelyn decides to stop beating around the bush - the very thing she despises - and finally drags her gaze up (and up, and up, Sam is very tall).]

This- ...peripherally, this has...something to do with Dean. [The implication being that she would like to kill two birds with one stone.] Could you call him here?

[ofletters]

It-- Okay. [ That takes him by surprise, and though he slowly removes his phone from his pocket, he's hesitating, wanting to ask how Dean is involved and what the hell happened. Swallowing his questions, Sam makes the call, turning from Evie with a slight frown and quietly relaying to his brother nothing but the fact that he needs to come over, that something's up.

When he hangs up, Sam clears his throat and looks back at her, expression strained. ]

He's on his way. Can I-- Do you want anything? Water, or--

[ Minnie patters around their feet, cocking her head at Evie. ]

D'you want to sit?

[nascensibility]

[What happened was a severe breach of trust - were she to use descriptive language it would be artful colour, a mosaic of deceit that rivaled those in the Hagia Sophia in its workmanship. For all of the occasions wherein Will explicitly stated that he had confidence in Evelyn, it clearly wasn't enough to divulge the information that could have saved people (both others and herself) heartache.

It has been some time since she last felt torn in two, like tattered scraps of a whole she's not certain she recognises anymore, and Evelyn does not relish it.]

Please,

[she replies demurely, fiddling anxiously with her fingers, resisting the urge to stoop to pick Minnie up like some kind of toy animal you win at the village festival.]

And...some water, if it's not too much trouble.

[ganking]

[ with a text detailing nothing but the simple demand that dean come over immediately, he does... well, exactly that considering it's sam who sends him the message. and this better be something important, too, and not just another case of sam's hair needing combing or braiding. there are better things to do with his time, really. either way, dean makes his way to the fifth floor, finding sam's door with ease and only giving a single knock before he's already pushing the door open with the familiarity of someone who comes by all too often. ]

Alright, so where's the fire? [ excuse him, he's just gonna step inside, and--

oh. dean spots evie, coming to something of a halt, both brows raised as he stares at her, then at sam... aaand back to her again. did he interrupt something? ]

Uh, hey, Evie.

[ something's wrong here. ]

[nascensibility]

[Sam was kind enough to offer her a drink of water and a place to sit on his sofa, which is where Evelyn is quietly tapping her fingertips on her glass when Dean arrives. Her indomitable will tends to set the precedent and surge forward, but waiting has always been an activity Evelyn loathes and when left with no recourse but to sit still, she finds it unnerves her immensely.

Dean's greeting is therefore met with a subdued:]

Hello, Dean.

[Loathe to own up to her mistakes this particular encounter is bound to besmirch what little respect one particular Winchester had for her, and perhaps decrease that of the other.]

I needed to talk to both of you, it's- [It's making her stomach lurch, actually.] -it's very important.

[ofletters]

Yeah, clearly. [ Sam tights his jaw to something... preparatory, as if he can guess what's coming, though in reality he has no idea. ] Evie, what happened?

[ He casts Dean a little look as if to say something bad's happened, but doesn't speak to his brother aloud. Not yet. They need to hear it first from Evelyn before coming to any conclusions. ]

[ganking]

[ dean doesn't want to assume anything, but he's already going through a list of worse case scenarios even before she's started talking. there's only so many things which can go wrong enough for evie to come to sam of all people, looking so shocked and subdued.

it sits so wrong with dean, to see her like this, but his voice is calm. ]

Whatever it is, you can tell us.

[ one step at a time and all, they'll deal with this in whatever way she wants them to, and in whatever way will help her. ]

[nascensibility]

You were right.

[To Dean first, the admittance coming freely out of the gate.]

You, and Crowley...and John, and Philip. Lacking evidence I didn't want to believe it and it was only in the last month or so that I took the time to analyse what I knew.

[And what she didn't.

I don't want this to end up being an I told you so moment later, alright? Isn't that what Dean had said, back in October? The nauseating sensation of being wrong left Evelyn a long time ago, supplanted by a malaise of anxiety that there might not be a motive outside of a show of dominance.]

Will called me, said that he needed to speak with me. He said- [Here Evelyn fumbles, fingers tightening briefly on her glass before she relaxes with a steady, measured exhale.] -he said that he's known it was Hannibal since the first murder. That these murders were...exactly the same as the ones he had been framed for back home.

[Not in so many words, but she understands his roundabout manner of speech, comprehended the meaning behind the confirmation that devastated her so completely.]

He was complicit.

text;

[radiopalkiller]

[ These days he doesn't walk her too close to the sea. Sharp whistles only do so much to control her, and Philip's patience for wet dogs in winter is limited. Faraday launches herself into a pile of snow, while he checks the new message.

Four words in, and already Faraday's leash is getting pulled in further. Already his steps are turning back towards the mansion. His mind generates a comprehensive list of his own relocations, plus reasons thereof: Set into that context her message is all but foreboding a catastrophe. ]

Anytime. I'm just getting back from the hills.

[ Philip thinks back to the last day he reliably saw her alive, and calculates how many deaths might fit into that time. Message sill unsent his need to know everything at once struggles with the courtesy of letting the story unfold at Evelyn's pace. ]

Do you need anything? Which room is it now? What happened?

[ Courtesy is in poor shape that day. Philip sends his answer, and walks briskly into the entrance hall. ]

text;

[nascensibility]

[Evelyn, who has more or less moved rooms but not entirely bothered to unpack the personal belongings that the Mansion wouldn't transport for her, is dragging her typewriter across her desk when the communicator pings.

Part 1 is innocent enough, Part 2 is a series of questions whose urgency she can feel rippling through the phone and up her arm. Evelyn shivers, tapping out a reply:]

Fifth floor, room 10. I don't need anything, but thank you for asking. I'd rather tell you in person.

[Aware that he would prefer knowing now rather than five minutes from now, Evelyn frowns a little and types again as her tea leaves begin to steep, sensing where his concern might find a crack and expand the worry exponentially.]

I haven't lost a life. I just...needed to move.

text;

[radiopalkiller]

[ Courtesy is out of breath after three steps, and its wheezing is made abundantly clear by the answer he never openly demanded. Philip forces his own steps to slow down in response. His floor, huh? ]

Fair enough. I'll have tea ready in a minute.

[ And if the bar proximity of her latest locale of choice says anything about the demand for refreshments stronger than that, well, he expects the perpetual availability of those implied, just by visiting his room. ]

text; -> action;

[nascensibility]

I'll be over shortly.

[She would have been happy to invite him but she appreciates the alternative just as much, poking her head out of her door to ensure no one is down the hall (keeping her new quarters a relative secret is preferred, if only for a little while).

Room 499 is approached with slight trepidation and two knocks, Evelyn lacing her fingers together in front of her and trying not to fidget.]

action;

[radiopalkiller]

[ He opens the door no sooner than the second knock, and no sooner than that does Faraday dart past his feet, always sneakier and snakier than a fur-shedding monster of a dog her size has any right to be. She's the wagging tail, the excited bark, the loud and cheerful greeting that won't come from Philip's end, mute and muted as always, smile tense with anticipation. ]

Come in.

[ A sharp whistle calls Faraday back, and she follows, takes her place next to the couch and there - in that regard much like Philip - eagerly waits for Evelyn to take a seat. ]

Tea's ready, let me know if I can get you anything. Something stronger, anything else...

action;

[nascensibility]

[Philip opens the door so quickly that her fist is left hanging in mid-air while Faraday snuffles around her shoes and barks her greeting. Unfortunately for the dog Evelyn only has eyes for Philip and the tight expression on his face, a sailor who has tied himself to the rigging and is waiting for the next great wave to swamp the deck of the ship.

Lowering her hand she steps inside and moves to the couch, lacing her fingers in her lap as she sits. Faraday, who nudges for a petting, is indulged long enough for Evelyn to formulate a half-decent reply.]

Tea is...fine.

[She looks over her shoulder at him in the little kitchenette, the man with whom she has shared so many of her secrets and been gifted with secrets in return, the man who knows her better than anyone else in Wonderland, and not simply because they both suffer from an excess of curiosity.

Oddly, despite everything, Evelyn is nervous to admit how very wrong she was to him, specifically. She should know better by now.]

...you can ask me, Philip.

action;

[radiopalkiller]

[ That's one way to break the tension. Philip huffs a laugh, as much of the sound as he's still left with, anyway. ]

Christ, I thought I'd give you a minute first.

[ It comes easier, if only a little, now that he knows she's not freshly risen from the dead. Philip throws Faraday a bone (the literal chew treat kind) to encourage some distance. While she takes her spot in the corner Philip takes his in the armchair, tea set down in front of him.

Pause.

Breathe.

Go. ]

What happened?

action;

[nascensibility]

[Evelyn assumes that she might as well do Philip the courtesy of letting him ask, because his curiosity is roughly equivalent to hers and they both know how much the other likes getting answers, terrible or not.]

I had a row with Will.

[It is the easy reply, the simplest, but one which she has to elucidate so as to avoid any assumptions. Her gaze drifts toward the tea setting, settling somewhere between the sugar bowl and the lemon slices.]

...do you remember asking me if I thought he was hiding something from me?

[radiopalkiller]

[ His curiosity is a clawed monster on the best of days, and it paws at new assumptions faster than her words can build up against them. Changed rooms, not death, it took him a while to move away from murder, but what if the answer is Rick? He buried that scenario a long time ago, but there was a time when it emerged, no matter how briefly, no matter how hypothetically. What if he'd shown up while they were still together? What If, except out of his hands now?

(He'd argue it an odd problem to bring to his doorstep, that's what.)

The theory abandons itself fast, faster still when she reminds him of their New Year's celebrations, and questions he stumbled into by accident far more than suspicion. Philip nods, and stops himself from reaching for a cigarette. ]

You said he was just being roundabout.

[nascensibility]

[Were Rick to actually appear in Wonderland - and the likelihood of that is slim, so fine a line one can't even see it with the naked eye - she doubts Will would fight. She doubts he would do anything, save sink back into himself and let her "live her life." He said as much that day on the beach, looking down at the photographs in her locket.

Whether that sentiment has changed is up for debate; he's lied to her, now. He might have been lying to her then.]

I know what I said,

[she replies tiredly, reaching for a cube of sugar and dropping it into her cup. She rubs the remaining granules between her thumb and forefinger, absorbed in the action for a long moment.]

He came to tell me that he's known. He's always known, he knew it was Hannibal before either of them arrived here.

[radiopalkiller]

[ Philip doesn't need to stop himself from reaching for the cigarette anymore. The confusion is etched solid into his frown, and the rest of him stands tersely still to capture the moment. Only his lips forget that they have nothing to contribute, that mouthing WHAT twice over in silent incredulity will not move the case along.

The image of a co-conspirator comes to mind readily, but if that was the revelation of the day he suspects that more than a row would have been in order. Amidst haywired processing he slowly shakes his head, in an effort to gather the thoughts fit for sharing. ]

He kept that from. He kept that from everyone, why? Why--

[ --actually, never mind that. Another of those headshakes. Christ, he's sorry. ]