Llewellyn Watts

Watts and Steven had ducked out of the party at Jack's relatively early, with the entirely truthful explanation that they still had to check in to their hotel. Which, for the record, was a good deal nicer than the one in Toronto, albeit still containing two separate beds. That, yes, they'd promptly moved together. Or, well, Steven had done most of the moving both last night and this morning when they'd put them back in their original spots, fussing over the idea of Watts ( injuring himself further. )
[ooc: NFI, NFB due to distance. Comments welcome. Adapted from S16E01 of Murdoch Mysteries, Sometimes They Come Back, Part II. Preplayed with always delightful hasaknightjob.]

Watts's sleep last night had been somewhat restless; their small supply of 21st century painkillers had been depleted (funny, none of them had anticipated Watts being shot at by a sniper when packing for this particular trip) so his arm ached.

Which was making things like putting on his necktie this morning a struggle.

( 'Damn it all.' )
[ooc: NFI, NFB due to distance. Comments welcome. Extremely loosely based on S16E01 of Murdoch Mysteries, Sometimes They Come Back, Part I. Preplayed with the invaluable assistance of hasaknightjob.]

Watts had indeed gotten the rest Brackenreid had recommended, but he still wanted answers, and so had swung by the station earlier that morning to examine Murdoch's notes regarding the interrogation of the shooter last night. The man had given up little, but enough that Watts had his first solid lead regarding this case.

"Good news," he told Murdoch, clutching his injured arm protectively. "I was able to locate the shooter's bank account."

"And?" Murdoch said expectantly.

( 'Dominion. The payment-' )
[ooc: NFI, NFB due to distance. Comments welcome. Bent, folded, spindled and mutilated from S15E24 of Murdoch Mysteries, Close Encounters and preplayed with the endlessly patient hasaknightjob.]

The original plan had been to arrive in Toronto on Sunday evening, but that plan got derailed when Watts woke up Saturday morning with a body that wasn't his own. Because these things had a tendency to right themselves by the end of the weekend, they decided to wait it out and see how he woke up on Monday morning. Which was, thankfully, as his regular self. Thus after seeing Raphael settled back at Watts's apartment, they hopped a last-minute portal, checked into their hotel, and then headed to the nearby Scott's Diner for breakfast.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, keeping a vegan diet in 1910 Toronto meant certain meals- breakfast among them- were... somewhat limited. So it was that after a meal of hot cereal and coffee (with a side of sliced orange that Watts splurged on for both of them) they headed out of the diner ( to properly begin the day. )

( A little while later, at the city morgue... )
[ooc: NFI, NFB due to distance. Comments welcome. Bent, folded, spindled and mutilated from S15E23 of Murdoch Mysteries, Pay the Piper with the invaluable assistance of hasaknightjob.]

As planned, Watts and Steven had arrived back on the island late Friday night. When they opened the door to Watts’s apartment and stepped inside, a furry grey streak had bolted out from under the couch to greet them.

Well. To greet someone anyway, winding around Steven’s ankles and purring cheerfully. “Ought I be offended?” Watts remembered saying, though his cat did eventually deign to turn his attention Watts’s way as well.

Once it was clear they were forgiven for being gone for so very long, to the bedroom it was, where a promise was fulfilled. And then sleep.

And of course following sleep there was waking, eventually. A process that was often long and drawn out as neither Steven nor Watts were what you would consider morning people. Sometimes, though, biological needs made the process a little more urgent, and so it was that Watts slipped out of bed and padded over to the bathroom, where- well, let’s just say it was a good thing he caught sight of himself in the mirror as he entered.

Watts was just glad he had the presence of mind to remember having read about something like this in one of the many old incident report files that he spent perusing on slower days in the office. Not to mention Murdoch's warnings. Slightly altered morning ablutions taken care of, he peeked back into the bedroom. Steven was still sound asleep- and still very male looking. So that was- something?

He scrawled a note on the pad kept by Steven’s side of the bed: In the kitchen. Fandom’s done something odd again- L and then made his way to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast.

[ooc: for him who fell asleep here!]

So... for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, Watts and Steven ended up leaving for their holiday a day earlier. Well, okay, the reasons weren't that complicated- they involved a Farmer's Market that took place on Sundays.

First things first, though. Once they were checked in to the hotel and shown up to their room- complete with private rooftop terrace and infinity pool- Watts threw his suitcase down on the bed and then immediately started peeling off his clothes, haphazardly tossing them behind him as he made his way out to the terrace.

With a happy sigh, he sunk down on to one of the chaise lounges near the pool. He'd get back up eventually, to actually do the thing they'd made the effort to come here a day early for. Probably. Maybe.

[ooc: for the travel companion.]

It had been quite the busy day for Watts and Steven. Not that it started that way, of course. It started rather lazily, with sleeping in until they both naturally woke up without the assistance of alarms or hungry pets.

Then, there'd been snowshoeing and sightseeing along one of the beginner trails around Pyramid Lake- followed by collapsing in the room and curling up by the fireplace with some hot chocolate. And a nap. Possibly even some other things that might take place in a very comfortable bed. Like finishing off the last of the chocolate-covered strawberries that had been waiting for them upon check-in yesterday.

And now the sun was set and room service had just dropped off their dinner.

"I did ask for the wine pairing," Watts said, indicating one of the bottles that had accompanied their food. "But asked for sparkling water as well. Whatever you'd prefer." Since there would also be the opening of that champagne bottle around midnight.

Not long after he and Steven had arrived back home yesterday, Watts's bruises had just- disappeared. As if they'd never even existed. Which they'd taken to mean that whatever actions had been undertaken to restore the timeline to the way it ought to be were successful. Of course just because the evidence of Edwards' actions had been erased didn't mean thoughts of him weren't still lingering...

But Steven staying the night certainly helped banish them. Followed by their usual breakfast (which had not included any shoe doughnuts, much to Raphael's disappointment), after which Marc had indicated a desire to check in on Nell to see how she was doing after all the strangeness of the last week. Watts used the time alone (or sort of alone, there was a cat who very much wanted to "help" with the whole process) to get some baking done. Also hanging a print framed in glass which served a dual purpose: it was both a piece of art he liked and provided a nice reflective surface for someone who might find such things useful.

Steven was back later that afternoon and the two of them got a head-start on decorating for tomorrow's party, conveniently finishing up not long before sundown. Then there was lighting that menorah Steven had got for him for the very first time. And now? Presents.

Over the past few weeks, Watts had become quite accustomed to being awakened by the sound of a rather energetic cat who liked to make it known that he needed to be fed right now immediately. A desire that was often expressed by running around the apartment at top speed.

Today was no different. Or at least, it had been, up until the first muffled thump sounded from the living room. A few minutes later, there was another. Then another.

With a resigned grumble, Watts got out of bed to see what had Raphael making such a commotion, only to find his cat perched on the edge of the couch, staring intently at something that was whizzing around in the air. The reason for the thump noises soon became evident, as the cat launched himself up off the arm of the couch in an attempt to catch the flying whatever-it-was. Which was now zooming around Watts's head in an increasingly agitated circle. Watts swatted at it. It darted out of the way, and then back towards him. Watts glanced over at Raphael, who was, tail twitching, clearly ready to attempt to catch the thing again. "Don't you dare," Watts said, as if he had a chance in hell of the cat actually listening to him.

Raphael jumped. The flying thing zipped out of the way. Watts also managed to move out of the way, narrowly avoiding a faceful of cat. The flying thing moved closer again, resuming the agitated circling of Watts's head.

"Go away!" he swatted at it, and it darted out of the way of his hand. Watts took the opportunity to dash back into his bedroom, shutting the door before the flying nuisance could follow him in. Grabbing a shirt and a pair of trousers, he got dressed- well, sort of- in the interest of expediency he skipped the waistcoat.

He made sure Raphael was fed, all the while attempting to fend off the irritating flying thing, and then few minutes later and he was across the hall, knocking on Steven's door. Unbeknownst to him, of course, the flying thing (yes, you absolutely guessed it, it's totally the mistletoe) was sneakily hovering juuuuuuust behind him. Waiting. Lurking.

[ooc: for the guy who lives there. no, not that one. the other one.]

Watts’s day today had been a busy one. First, he’d decided to try something a little more difficult than the pies he’d made so far, and so his early afternoon was taken up with finding an appropriate recipe and getting the dough started.

That accomplished, he’d headed to the animal shelter to do something he’d been thinking about for a while: that is, finding himself an animal friend as well as the appropriate toys and supplies.

And now, the cat (who still very much needed a name) was hiding under the couch, the bread was in the oven, and Watts himself was on the couch, reading a book while he waited for the bread to bake.

[ooc: mostly establishy but open if you’ve a reason to knock, sure.]