[It isn't that she's cruel, she just assumed he could read, which really says something about the state of things and her own particular position of privilege. Evelyn is grateful that he can't see her face now, because it is very, very pink.]
I'm so sorry, Dan, I wasn't aware. I just- I wanted to... [ugh now this is HARD] I wanted to get to know you better, is all the message says.
[She can hear the smile so it's apparent that he hasn't been offended, although she wouldn't blame him if he was. Evelyn has the niggling idea that he's just teasing her now.]
[There are remarkably specific circumstances for Evelyn happily answering to the endearment "sweetheart," and Dan manages to execute it without eliciting an unsavoury response.
It might be because he's actually sincere.]
No! Ah, no, of course not, I- I meant in-person. Meeting...somewhere? A parlour, or- well, somewhere without alcohol would be best, really.
[He can't fathom why she might sound so nervous. Still embarrassed, maybe? Dan has never been worried about the fact that his level of literacy is minimal, but it seems to make some people strangely uncomfortable...]
A parlour? Well don't that sound fancy. I'll head anywhere you wanna go, jus' name it.
[She's embarrassed because in spite of appearances Evelyn can be quite terrible at making friends - or keeping in touch with the ones she already has - and is therefore internally chastising herself for mucking this up.]
My rooms are...probably fine, actually. You already know where they are.
[He should by now, since he's been a Good Samaritan and walked her there twice.]
[Evelyn, discerning hostess that she is, put the kettle on and cleared an area in the sitting room. It's undignified, having shared so much with him and having learned little in return, and it's high time she offered the same favour. Hastening to the door she opens it to give him a view into a series of rooms stemming from a central nexus.
The décor itself is warm and eclectic, the floorplan chosen because she started getting cabin fever in her third year as a Wonderland resident.]
[she remarks, ushering him inside and shutting the door as he shifts out of the way. She's gotten stranger reactions to her interior design before, but knows so little about Dan's origins that it might well look ridiculous.
A conglomeration of cultures and her work, it's one of the few places here that feels as though it belongs to her, and her alone.]
I've been here a while, I couldn't stand tight quarters. Tea?
[He lets that go just like that and glances around with obvious levels of distraction. The word he was looking for was close to 'elegant', but he's never seen anything like it before. No one manages to keep a place like this in the Mojave.]
[Evelyn hums thoughtfully and waves a hand toward the sitting area, accepting the compliment (?) in stride. There are worse things a place could be than "like her."]
I have some, it might not be the kind you're used to, but I think you'll like it.
[A strong Turkish blend is the only one she knows how to make, since she can't operate a French press to save her life.]
[Like the food, the drink, the weather, the people, the water.. even the air is different. He can't say he misses the sensation of breathing in a lungful of dust and sand every time the wind happens to turn in the wrong direction.
Doesn't miss the radioactive lightning, either.]
But I'm gettin' used to it. Whatever you've got'll be just fine.
[People tend to double - or triple - their portions of coffee in the future, she's noticed, which is why she has a mug out for him instead of the traditional little cup. Evelyn gestures that he sit and she steps around him to pour, nudging a small pile of multipledifferentrecords closer to the gramophone with the tip of her shoe.]
The honeymoon period will pass,
[she informs him gently, settling across from Dan and reaching for the sugar.]
[For a moment it looks as if he isn't sure which seat to sit on - everything looks so clean - but he picks one and gingerly drops into it, watching her move as she makes the drinks.]
What's it like..?
[He picks up one of the records, sliding it gently out of its sheath and smiling in private amusement. It's been a while since he saw one of these.]
That's a real loaded question. You wanna be more specific?
[Stirring sugar into her tea - it already has lemon, and milk is an abomination - Evelyn looks over the landscape made up by the tea setting and watches him tug The Ink Spots from their case.
I was born on the road. Somewhere in the Northern Commonwealth that they used t' call Montana. Never spent much time there, though.
[He slips the record back and sets it down, picking up the coffee instead.]
My pa was from the Plains Commonwealth, and my mom was a tribal from the Zion Canyon. Pa was a caravanner, so we moved around a lot, but he traded mostly in the Mojave.
[Evelyn wishes that she didn't look so quizzical as he elucidates, coming up with a veritable grocery list of place names she doesn't recognise in the least, thinking he might well be from another world entirely.
[He gets the feeling, watching her face while he speaks, that he's completely throwing her for a loop. Evie has struck him as the worldly sort, but he knows he's likely from a time in the far flung future from her.
He sips his coffee, makes a short, appreciative sound at the taste, then clears his throat.]
Lemme ask you somethin'... What year is it, where you come from?
[It isn't uncommon that people ask her this particular question, and it never really comes as a surprise, but sometimes it sound mildly accusatory. Holding her teacup in both hands Evelyn wonders what tell gave her away, if it was the diction, the formality, the décor.
Sometimes she feels as though she's blended so easily into this world, she might as well be timeless.]
[And maybe that will tell her why he asked. There has been no one so far even close to his time period, though he didn't expect that Evelyn would be, either.
Nothing really gives her away as far as he's concerned, he just takes it as read that everyone is from some time in the past.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voice;
voice;
[It isn't that she's cruel, she just assumed he could read, which really says something about the state of things and her own particular position of privilege. Evelyn is grateful that he can't see her face now, because it is very, very pink.]
I'm so sorry, Dan, I wasn't aware. I just- I wanted to... [ugh now this is HARD] I wanted to get to know you better, is all the message says.
[More or less.]
voice;
It ain't all that bad, jus' takes me a while to get through letters.
[He's grinning. He can't help it. Even though she can't see it, his voice makes it clear.]
But there's somethin' you didn't know.
voice;
I'll add that to my list, shall I?
[she replies drolly, thoroughly humbled.]
If...you're busy, I understand-
voice;
[He is teasing her. Dan Palmer is actually a very bad man. There's a pause, and another chuckle.]
Whatcha after knowin'? Sure y' wanna do it over this thing?
voice;
It might be because he's actually sincere.]
No! Ah, no, of course not, I- I meant in-person. Meeting...somewhere? A parlour, or- well, somewhere without alcohol would be best, really.
voice;
A parlour? Well don't that sound fancy. I'll head anywhere you wanna go, jus' name it.
voice;
My rooms are...probably fine, actually. You already know where they are.
[He should by now, since he's been a Good Samaritan and walked her there twice.]
voice;
voice;
I'll see you shortly, then.
action;
Smart men don't walk into ladies' rooms uninvited.]
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The décor itself is warm and eclectic, the floorplan chosen because she started getting cabin fever in her third year as a Wonderland resident.]
Dan. Please, come in.
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[He takes a step inside, then makes a sound close to 'whoa' and looks around with faintly raised eyebrows.
It takes him a moment to realise he's blocking the door.]
Heck. Sorry. This is uh. Damn.
"HECK" oh my god this muffin
[she remarks, ushering him inside and shutting the door as he shifts out of the way. She's gotten stranger reactions to her interior design before, but knows so little about Dan's origins that it might well look ridiculous.
A conglomeration of cultures and her work, it's one of the few places here that feels as though it belongs to her, and her alone.]
I've been here a while, I couldn't stand tight quarters. Tea?
Heck >.>
[He lets that go just like that and glances around with obvious levels of distraction. The word he was looking for was close to 'elegant', but he's never seen anything like it before. No one manages to keep a place like this in the Mojave.]
Coffee if you've got it.
:3 :3 :3
I have some, it might not be the kind you're used to, but I think you'll like it.
[A strong Turkish blend is the only one she knows how to make, since she can't operate a French press to save her life.]
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[Like the food, the drink, the weather, the people, the water.. even the air is different. He can't say he misses the sensation of breathing in a lungful of dust and sand every time the wind happens to turn in the wrong direction.
Doesn't miss the radioactive lightning, either.]
But I'm gettin' used to it. Whatever you've got'll be just fine.
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The honeymoon period will pass,
[she informs him gently, settling across from Dan and reaching for the sugar.]
What is it like, where you're from?
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What's it like..?
[He picks up one of the records, sliding it gently out of its sheath and smiling in private amusement. It's been a while since he saw one of these.]
That's a real loaded question. You wanna be more specific?
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He's not wrong, she should be more specific.]
Oh. Um. Well, where are you from, for starters?
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[He slips the record back and sets it down, picking up the coffee instead.]
My pa was from the Plains Commonwealth, and my mom was a tribal from the Zion Canyon. Pa was a caravanner, so we moved around a lot, but he traded mostly in the Mojave.
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Or that's her assumption until the last word.]
...the Mojave is...a desert, is it not?
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[He gets the feeling, watching her face while he speaks, that he's completely throwing her for a loop. Evie has struck him as the worldly sort, but he knows he's likely from a time in the far flung future from her.
He sips his coffee, makes a short, appreciative sound at the taste, then clears his throat.]
Lemme ask you somethin'... What year is it, where you come from?
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[It isn't uncommon that people ask her this particular question, and it never really comes as a surprise, but sometimes it sound mildly accusatory. Holding her teacup in both hands Evelyn wonders what tell gave her away, if it was the diction, the formality, the décor.
Sometimes she feels as though she's blended so easily into this world, she might as well be timeless.]
1935.
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For me, it's 2282.
[And maybe that will tell her why he asked. There has been no one so far even close to his time period, though he didn't expect that Evelyn would be, either.
Nothing really gives her away as far as he's concerned, he just takes it as read that everyone is from some time in the past.]
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