MHA #15, Monday Evening

[pocketpretzels]

As had become habit over the past few months, on Monday evening Watts found himself seated at his kitchen table surrounded by a stack of paper as he wrote to folks back in Toronto.

The most detailed letter went to the Detective and Dr. Ogden, as per usual, given that the former had experience here and thus Watts could be entirely honest about the things he'd seen and done. Less detailed were the missives sent to George Crabtree and Mrs. Hart. And finally, this week, there was a short note he owed Miss Louise Cherry, who'd written him recently expressing doubt that this address was even real. So he was writing back to assure her that no, no one had killed him in a fit of exasperation and he was in fact alive and well, just in Baltimore rather than Toronto.

It was slow going, of course, as he was making an effort to keep his writing as legible as possible. Even then, there had been more than a few sheets he'd had to discard entirely, and the wastepaper basket was starting to fill up.

[ooc: for the neighbour! that he came over is ok to mention, details NFB please.]

Comments

[pocketpretzels]

"That makes sense," Watts nodded. Secretly, selfishly, he was glad that Steven had no problems with the way he sometimes would use Steven Grant. It was a strange reversal of how intimate using someone's given name alone usually was, but as much as he enjoyed it, he'd stop in a heartbeat if it made Steven uncomfortable.

Marc, on the other hand, was already being mentally reclassified as Mr. Spector.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven very much did not mind when Watts called him by his full name. There were no hints that Watts needed to stop hidden in Steven's mention of it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Guess that's two confessions today," Steven said, trying for a smile as well as a small joke. "Marc and the fake IDs. Sorry, detective. Hope it's not a problem?"

[pocketpretzels]

“Iiiii think I can be convinced to overlook the issue of forged identification,” Watts said. For several reasons, most notably the fact that a standardized system for identification did not yet exist in his own time. And also the fact that he may soon need some forged papers of his own, if this mainland excursion were to happen.

[hasaknightjob]

"You sure?" The tension Steven had felt was beginning to dissolve enough that his smile was steadier instead of something he had to try for. "Only I've already told you the pretzels were for no reason. So if I'm to bribe you I'll have to find something else."

[pocketpretzels]

“Do you think, if I had to prove my identity in the here-and-now to someone, they’d take my papers at face value?” he asked pointedly.

[hasaknightjob]

"Sorry," Steven said. He was serious once more. Watts wasn't angry, but if he thought Steven was truly confused then Steven had taken a wrong turn somewhere. "It was meant to be a joke. Not one of my funnier ones, I suppose."

[pocketpretzels]

“Ah,” Watts nodded. “A witticism.
Noted.”

A detective he may be, but detecting jokes was not his strong point.

[hasaknightjob]

"Didn't mean I actually thought you took bribes," Steven said, in case that had been where he'd stumbled. "Here you're being so understanding and I insulted you. I'm sorry."

[pocketpretzels]

Had Steven been literally anyone else, Watts would have told him that sorry doesn’t change anything, so there’s no sense in wasting time saying it.

But Steven was Steven, so instead he got: “You didn’t insult me; I’m just not always quick with recognizing a joke for what it is.” In other words: the fault lay with him, Steven.

[hasaknightjob]

"I hadn't noticed that," Steven admitted. Thinking about it, he and Watts had shared what might be called banter but there hadn't been much cause for direct joking. Given the serious nature of many of the things they'd spoken about, it was hardly surprising. "Wait - so when you asked what I stood to get out of lying about the pretzels, did you not understand that that was joking as well?"

[pocketpretzels]

“I’m… afraid not, no,” For a man who disliked seeing others say ‘sorry’, Watts looked extremely apologetic right about now.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven felt awful as he remembered what else he'd said in that conversation. "Oh no. Surely you didn't think I would stop spending time with you if you didn't make tea properly? I would never. Especially not you."

[pocketpretzels]

“No, that one I understood,” Watts assured him. Not right away, but close enough that he wasn’t going to mention his momentary panic.

[hasaknightjob]

"Right. Good," Steven said. "I mean in general it's pretty fair to say if it's ever bad I don't mean it and if it's good I very much do. Well, when it's about you, that is."

[pocketpretzels]

For someone who claimed to be unable- or unwilling- to participate in a romantic relationship, you sure were good at giving off the sorts of signals that said otherwise, Steven.

"I shall endeavour to remember that."

[hasaknightjob]

It wasn't a lack of will, it was his belief that it was unfair to ask given the limitations on what he had to offer.

Which was also why his words kept slipping closer to truth than he intended.

"If you're ever unsure you can check," Steven said. "I won't mind or make fun, I promise."

[pocketpretzels]

His inability to appreciate jokes was not something he generally bothered explaining, as he didn't much care what most people thought of him.

With Steven, he cared. "It's swing and a miss, usually miss, honestly, so thank you." Though it remained to be seen whether he'd actually take Steven up on that offer and check.

[hasaknightjob]

"Of course," Steven said. "Last thing I'd ever want is to have hurt you. Well, one of them anyway."

[pocketpretzels]

“And I you, for the record,” Watts told him.

[hasaknightjob]

"You haven't, promise," Steven said. He looked at Watts for a bit longer than he should have before making himself look away. "But here's me taking up so much of your time. I should get out of your hair. Let you get back to it, yeah?"

[pocketpretzels]

Which was unusual for Llewellyn “Personality Conflicts” Watts, really.

“Back to- I wasn’t doing anything of import,” Watts said dismissively, not even glancing at the stack of partially-written letters. “The offer from earlier still remains. The wine, I mean.” He rather liked having you in his hair, Steven. In case you couldn’t tell.

[hasaknightjob]

Well now a look of hope peeked out. Wine meant staying a while at least. Steven didn't mind the idea of that at all.

"Yeah, all right," Steven said. He finally let himself take a step forward from where he'd been keeping distance the whole time. "Didn't have any plans for tonight besides talking to you. And what's staying? Still talking to you. Works out perfect, then."

[pocketpretzels]

“Good, good,” Watts nodded, standing up and humming thoughtfully to himself as he perused the few bottles he’d picked up recently before settling on one.

“I’m afraid my knowledge of good vintages is more than a few decades out of date,” he said apologetically. “But I’ve been assured that these are quality,” he uncorked the bottle and carefully poured two glasses, handing one over to Steven.

[hasaknightjob]

"That's all right, I'm no expert myself," Steven said. He watched Watts take care of things, noticing one bottle looked older than the others. "Mostly follow other people's lead if they know better."

Steven took the glass when Watts offered it. He then held it out in an invitation for a toast. "To... better understanding? You know, I mean us. Each other."

[pocketpretzels]

“To better understanding,” Watts echoed.

That one older bottle was being saved for a special occasion. What that occasion might be, Watts had no idea as of yet. But given how the bottle had come to be in his possession, it would need to be… something more than a drink with a friend.

He breathed in the wine for a moment before taking a slow, measured sip.

“So,” he said slowly. “Tell me about your museum?” Was he aware that Steven was not, in fact, in charge of the place? Maybe. Did that matter to him? No, not really.