villagelogs | 018-020 » what he hides

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018-020 » what he hides

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Western Mathias.
WHEN: Days 018-020
WHAT: The fog recedes!
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Graham Plowman "Edge of Darkness"

DAYS 018-020
THE HIDDEN REVEALED
“Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”
— Benjamin Franklin

As the sun rises in the distance above the sea, the fog slips away from the unsettling town, winding through streets and across buildings until it is nestled soundly in the forest. There it waits, ready to snare any who dare test its limits — residents would do well to remember what happened the last time they encountered the fog so intimately.

With the fog receded, the western portion of Mathias is now revealed and available for exploring. There are more businesses on the town square and even some on the street that runs off the square. The schoolhouse is nestled by the southern treeline, not from the little makeshift cemetery at the end of Jackson Boulevard that is courtesy of a few kind residents in town. To the far north of the square is a sprawling garden, now covered in snow, and a greenhouse that once supplied the botanical shop. And to the west, beyond the square, is another residential district of the same size as that to the east. What is different, however...

These buildings are all in some form of decay. From the beginnings of rot to completely collapsed and little more than a pile of proverbial bones, none of these homes are anything resembling livable. Well, as far as one can tell, at least. For between the streets of Hill Lane and Stine road there is a crack in the earth. A dozen feet across and fifty feet down, the crack extends from one side of the forest to the other, either end cut off by the fog. The view to the other side is clear but there is no way across.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
There are quite a few new faces in Mathias on this day. Awaking throughout Day 018, they will find themselves laying in the snow beside that unsettling crack in the earth, houses both quaint and decaying surrounding them as the snow begins to cover their bodies. Best get inside and warm up, dears.

SPECTRES IN THE NIGHT
The days are short now that winter seems to have set in unseasonably early. Though the clocks in Mathias fail to properly keep time or sometimes even work at all, the sun rises around 8:00am and sets at 5:00pm. There is far more darkness than light in these days, but in that darkness there is, in fact, light.

In the distance all across Mathias, there are lanterns lit against that darkness. Their lights dance across the snow, the warm flickering shining like tiny stars and offering an almost ethereal glow to the crisp white snow. It would be a beautiful sight to behold... if it weren't for the shadowy figures that held them. With partially raised arms, the figures hold the lanterns and walk the streets of Mathias, drifting in between buildings and disappearing into the forest. Still yet, there are some that simply stand in place, as if waiting for something or someone.

No matter where or when these figures are seen, they always seem to be facing away from our residents, and attempts at reaching them are all for naught. They will fade from view if one gets too close, and return to sight when that distance is regained. And in the morning, those lanterns may be found in the snow, their lights extinguished but their glass somehow still warm.

STRANGER IN THE SNOW
Those investigating the western part of Mathias and venturing near that inexplicable crack in the earth will have the most unsettling feeling of being watched. Most of the time, there is nothing there and no one to be seen, but then—

On the other side of that expanse, sitting on a porch, in the shadow of a home, or standing in the oddly moonlit street, there is a man. His features are shrouded in darkness and not much can be discerned about him, but instinct tells you he is dangerous. There is a sense deep in your bones that he is maliciously amused.

He makes no move to speak, nor will he respond to any attempts on your part. Instead, he sits, or he stands, and he watches. By the end of Day 020, all sign of him will be gone, along with the eerie feeling of being watched.

LOCATIONS

Unless otherwise noted, all new locations have working electricity and other utilities.

BENEDICT BOOKS Nestled quaintly on the square surrounding the Town Hall, a thick layer of dirt covering the front windows. A portrait hangs at the front of the store to illustrate the namesake of the little shop... that may, in fact, not be so little. Dust covers everything in sight and detritus litters the wooden floor, as if someone left the door open and allowed half the forest inside. (more info)

MATHESON ANTIQUES Also on the town square is an antique store that is a lesson in chaos more than culture. The items within are stacked haphazardly, creating narrow aisles running throughout the space. Furniture, light fixtures, old revolutionary and civil war memorabilia, all of it is jumbled together with no rhyme or reason. Indeed, one wrong move could create an avalanche of aged wood and peeling paint.

POE'S CLOTHES Located on the town square, this shop carries only the basics. Loose jeans in a few sizes, khakis, solid color dress shirts and blouses, flannel in various styles, socks and underwear.

SPIN RIGHT ROUND RECORDS On the square across from the beauty store, the music shop is as dusty as everything else in this town has been. Tables line the walls of the long shop, filled with rows and rows of vinyl records, while a few wall shelves display cassette tapes for sale. One side of the store is for New items, while the other holds the Used section with items for resale. Residents may recognize some of the artists but many are unfamiliar to them.

CLINIC Outside the decayed, crumbling building just north of the square is a still miraculously intact sign with the name of the clinic's doctor, Dr. Ken Suzuki. There is no way to treat patients in this location, but with care, some salvageable supplies may yet be found in the remains.

BARKER BOTANICALS Not quite a flower shop and not entirely an apothecary, the botanical store to the far north of the square is something of an amalgamation of both. With a few broken windows to let in the rain, parts of the shop have been overtaken by nature, the house plants growing beyond their pots and rotted flower petals littering the floor to tell of seasons past. The still unclaimed walls are filled with decaying plants and jars of dried herbs and other vegetation, along with a few essences and tinctures.

GREENHOUSE A few dozen yards from the botanicals shop is a sprawling garden, now covered in snow, and a greenhouse that once supplied the botanical shop. The glass is still miraculously intact, though covered in grime so thick that one cannot see inside.

GALLERY The gallery is essentially a large empty space with framed and matted black and white photographs of the town lining the walls. There is a small selected of prints available for sale near the front entrance, and a few rooms at the back of the building — a dark room for developing photos, a small office, and a locked room.

MOVIE THEATER This single-screen theater is quite small, having only 40 seats, but there is a large collection of movies in its storage room. These are all old film reels however, so hopefully someone knows how to thread a film projector.

HISTORY MUSEUM Across the street from the Historical Society, this once esteemed wooden building has seen better days. Windows and doors are boarded up and there is visible rot and decay on the exterior walls. Part of the roof has fallen in and the accumulating snow threatens to collapse the rest of it as well. It is not wise to venture within.

HISTORICAL SOCIETY This brick building has also seen better days, though in a different sort of way. Where once had been carefully cataloged collections and cozy reading rooms for aficionados of local history, there are now stacks of bankers boxes and weathered tomes in every nook and cranny. There is no organization to any of it, everything seeming to have been stashed in a hurry and then left forgotten. Anyone who dares to dive into this archive will need to devote quite some time in order to find anything worthwhile. They will also want to bring their own light source — the electricity does not work here and the windows are quite dark from the accumulated dust and grime.

SCHOOLHOUSE A much smaller school than most of our residents might be used to, there are only a half-dozen rooms in the building, with a few comprising classrooms, meeting areas, and workspaces. All ages were taught here, and one might almost imagine the sound of children's whispered voices and distant laughter while within the empty building.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— SNOW continues to fall in Mathias. Days 18-19 see light snowfall that very slowly accumulates, but the snowfall turns moderately heavy on Day 20 and sees significant accumulation. The temperature hovers just below freezing and dips lower when the sun goes down.

— VOICES are not openly haunting our residents, though they may still be occasionally encountered in the more heavily decayed buildings where some rooms seem to almost swallow whatever light tries to enter them.

— THE FOG has receded from the town proper and much of the eastern and northern beach. The path through the northern forest to the lighthouse is now also clear.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue to plague the town. While Daisy Johnson has returned, Zed Martin, Rey, and Quentin Coldwater have now vanished without a trace.

OOC UPDATES

— MADNESS has now been unlocked. Congratulations to Inky for Claire earning the first Madness! Who will be next? (Please be sure to keep your sanity updated regularly; Stars has created an amazing tracker for anyone to use if they'd like.)

— HELPERS are officially in residence! Kelly is our Registrar and Stars is our Librarian — both of these delightful members of our community are helping behind the scenes to keep things organized and updated (and doing wonders for the mod's own sanity levels), so please give them some thanks for their hard work!

— REPORTING updates is still a thing that your mod and helpers beg you to do. Changes to locations, plot notes that affect the community, and discoveries should be reported over here so these can all be noted in their appropriate places. (For clarification, reported Discoveries are not public knowledge unless a character has ICly shared this information.)

— A MAP of Mathias now exists, thanks to our wonderful Librarian! Please note that it is not to scale and there may be a few minor errors due to your frazzled mod. Expect updates in the future as more secrets are revealed.

— BULLETIN BOARD — don't forget about it. That's all.

CLAIMING AP REWARDS

Normally, only one AP reward can be claimed per log, but due to the plethora of new and old locations to explore, this restriction is being relaxed. Instead, for this log only:
— Players may spend AP on up to three rewards, though only Spot Hidden may be repeated.
— If a player is spending multiple Spot Hiddens, they must be with different characters and in different locations.

If two characters are investigating the same location together, they may each spend a Spot Hidden on that location. Players should record their spent AP after the AP request has been approved. Sometimes there is nothing to Spot with your Hidden and the points will be "refunded" to use elsewhere.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I may not have all the answers," he says softly as he moves in a little closer, encouraging her to turn and head back towards the stronger smattering of lights, go where he guiding her towards.

"But I might have some." He was able to answer quite a few questions that several others who had come only slightly before her had. "Perhaps if you are amenable to some supper, there will be plenty of time to ask them."

If she thought that was smooth like crunchy peanut butter, wait 'til she sees how he gets a phone number.

Damon could learn a few things from this wild western cowboy.

Elena shakes her head, enjoying seeing game meet game. She wants answers and a clear map out of here, but considering there's no signage, let alone no signage with a map printed on it, the only way she can achieve her goals is to ask questions. Something she's good at.

She walks, slowly, knowing he won't mind. She takes in the town from this angle with a new perspective—it doesn't take much too shift it; she'd seen the town without company and now it's with company.

"I'm Elena," she says. Figures it's best to have a name to the questions. "How long have you been here?"

He seems... comfortable. Maybe that's not the right word.

He follows half a step behind her and to her side, ready to catch her in case she loses her footing or just faints from the blood loss.

"The name is Henry, ma'am." He goes by several names around here, but Henry is more common still.

"It has been 18 days." He has not been keeping count, truth be told, not wanting to know how long he had been trapped for last time or this time, but the only other soul around here wearing a cowboy hat has been.

"But time passes a little differently around here. You may find the clocks make little sense." Along with many other things not making sense. Gravity seems to still be working as intended at least. Silver linings?

"Did someone attack you here?" If there's something or someone else trying to kill them other than a bit of fog, it would be good to know.

"No," she says, shaking her head. She feels it's important to clarify that without any hesitation. There's no one and there's nothing in this little, hollow town attacking people. She lifts her hand up and gingerly places it onto the right side of her neck, over her thick hair covering where Klaus had bitten her. "I was before I… woke up here."

It's strange to think she hadn't once tousled when being moved from the clearing of Mystic Falls to… a town where time seemed to work differently. It shouldn't surprise her, given how rundown it looks.

She looks at him over her shoulder, brows furrowed slightly. "Did you just… wake up here?"

"I see." He would like to know more, but he does not wish to pry. He is hoping there will be a better opportunity to ask later. They are fast approaching the row of houses he finds familiar now. He's been here long enough for someone else's home to feel like his own, especially at the end of a long day when there are familiar faces hanging around to greet him.

"I did, down by the beach. I do believe it destroyed my phone." Not that he misses arguing with Siri all that much. It has been sitting in a bowl of rice - Malcolm suggested it might revive the device, and Doc still doesn't know if he was joking because he suspected Doc didn't know how to work electronics or if he was actually being serious - but it was likely too late to save it.

"I could show you around town, tomorrow if you are feeling better," he offers. "It would hardly be any trouble if you wanted to join us for meals, but you will be needing to know where to find food, and information."

There's a beach here. That's good to know. Elena files that away, wondering just where the hell they actually are.

"Us?" It's repeated gently and with an arch of her brow. She glances at him before looking at the houses, then glancing over her shoulder. The town isn't posing itself to be an intricate maze, which is good.

His invitation is kind, and she can't help but want to say yes—and she's going to. Human interaction seems hard to come by around this town, considering it's not bustling with activity like Mystic Falls or the town in Atlanta. "How many people are here?"

"I am currently living with two gentlemen, a Marshal by the name of Raylan Givens and an investigator, Malcolm Bright." He gives their full names in case she recognises them. No, they are merely residing in the same house. There is no sausage sizzle cowboy sandwich action happening.

"There were maybe fifteen, twenty of us, but we seem to be getting newcomers every so often." He meets clusters of new faces within short spans of time, so it is unlikely she came alone.

"Was there anyone in particular you were looking for? I might know a name or two." It's a small enough town that they can find anyone easily, but they only recently canvased the place after the fog claimed a few unfortunate lives. Speaking of which...

"Incidentally we had a-... some people were attacked, a few days ago. It is imperative you answer the phone, wherever you may end up. And avoid the fog."

She's a millennial; she has an aversion to answering phones.

Elena opens her mouth and wonders what kind of sound will come out of it. Malcom Bright, an investigator. Raylan Givens, a Marshal. And Henry, a doctor. It seems as though whoever is recruiting (or kidnapping) people in this town is looking for a variety of skillsets. There's Elijah, who is simply Eiljah.

It's a lot to mentally jot down, but she thinks she's got a handle on it. Answer the phone, no matter what. (Why?) A killer fog (what?) that she'll soon spend the next couple of days wondering how that can be real with so many people telling her the same thing.

She brushes her hand against her neck.

"I kind of woke up with someone I knew, but I wasn't anywhere near him when I was at home. I don't think you've seen a Jeremy Gilbert, Jenna Sommers or Stefan Salvatore around?"

The last thing she wants to do is hope.

He might have been a little gentler if she had inquired, speculated that maybe there was someone or something lurking inside the fog. After all, that choking gas stuff was all just theories and speculation at this stage, for lack of a better explanation as to what happened. But she didn't ask, and he hopes that she will just be smart about it and heed the warning of a good Samaritan. He's not even mentioning the whole 'everyone might be from a different universe' theory that came up as a point of discussion not too long ago. It does his head in just thinking about it. He doesn't think he can manage explaining it to someone else.

"I see." There have been a few instances where a couple of people who know each other from wherever they must have come from before have ended up here, but if there was some kind of pattern or logic to it, Doc didn't know how that worked.

"I am not familiar with those names, I'm afraid. But perhaps they are fortunate to not have been brought here. We, less so." Still. He has met a couple of people like Ellie and Negan who have come from places much worse than this quiet little town. He does not wish to presume what it was like where she had come from.

"If I do see them I will let them know you are here," he promises. They are coming up to the house now and Doc gestures towards the porch and front door. It is a very modern place with hanging lights that are hat hazards, and very little about him comes off as modern, so if anyone should feel out of place in that house, it ought not to be her.

"Do make yourself at home, ma'am. I can bring you some blankets, and tea?" Or there is a line of clear liquids in glass bottles on a kitchen shelf that most definitely don't contain water, if she's eyeing up something stronger instead.

"Thank you."

Despite the disappointment curling in her belly, Elena's grateful. She's a stranger to him, and yet, he offers her a kindness she has no words to express her gratitude for. She doesn't like being alone, not now. She makes a mental note to learn what she can of Henry so she can try to repay what is an impossible repayment.

"This house is…" She stares up at it, not quite sure what to expect. Her thoughts don't whirl around whether or not it suits him. It circles around the fact there's a decent-looking house that's clean and seemingly well-kept. Was this built recently? Did Henry and his friends clean it up?

Stepping inside does nothing to assist her curiosity about this town.

Smiling at him, she lifts her hand to the base of her throat. "Just water will be fine, if that's okay." Taking a blanket feels like she's inconveniencing him and his housemates, but partly she doesn't want one so she can walk around and take in the house. It's so different from the one that she had stepped into with Elijah.

"Was this house like this when you came here?"

"...quaint?" he finishes for her, not really sure how that sentence was supposed to end. It's actually very nice. He feels like an unwelcome guest in it sometimes, especially whenever he knocks onto one of the hanging lights with his hat. Which clearly happens often enough given how he knows to duck and move his head to the side to avoid the bamboo one hanging near the entranceway.

"It was exactly like this, yes." He goes through the unnecessary motions of moving some cushions aside along the couch so she can sit down whenever she's ready before moving into the kitchen to fetch her glass of water. "Quite a wonder, isn't it? Lights you cannot see the wirings and casings of, like stars in the ceiling." Yes, he's definitely not from the time where this kind of décor would be considered normal.

"I have a couple of first aid kits upstairs, if you would like me to take a look at anything." It's not a pickup line, though admittedly the delivery could have been smoother. He leaves her water close to the edge of the countertop, sparing them both the potential awkwardness of the handoff.

"I think I probably need to change my bandage." While Elijah had proven to be a great applier of said bandage, getting the material from an abandoned house was probably not very hygienic. She can feel it stick to her uncomfortably. All she wants is someone to tell her that it's healed right up with magic.

As she walks over towards the countertop with a thankful smile, she peers up at the lights. "They're just like stars," she says. "I've never thought of looking at it that way." That's a nicer way of putting it, and a descriptor that makes her realise that perhaps he's not used to those types of pictures.

Edited (vegemite took over my keyboard and posted this too early.) 2020-12-30 11:27 (UTC)

"I can help you with that. If you don't mind, of course. I won't be two minutes." He flashes her as warm and reassuring of a smile as he can manage before backing towards the flight of stairs and turning his back to her when his heel hits the first step. It gives her some time to walk around, explore the common areas, take a seat while he rummages around his things for two of his larger first aid kits. When he returns back down the stairs he's also bringing a change of clothes draped over his arm and some hand towels, along with a basin already filled with warm water.

"Do you want to uh... talk about what happened, ma'am?" he inquires as gently as he can, trying not to push the subject.

As nosy as she is, she only takes her glass of water and sits on the couch, taking that as her opportunity to look around. It's very overwhelming to think she's not in Mystic Falls anymore—she's certain that if Henry came by the town, he'd be remembered for his moustache alone—and being in a house that looks lived in is… well…. it shouldn't be strange at all.

"It's fine, thank you," she says. She smiles at what he has in his hands, grateful for his kindness she isn't quite sure she'll ever be able to repay. The last thing she wants to do is burden Henry with her drama. (Talking about it is scary, and talking about it makes it real.)

"Where are you from?"

A better topic of conversation, in her humble opinion.

He sets the basin down quietly and flaps the extra clothes she can change into later over the backrest of the couch, tugging the soft, fluffy throw hanging off the armrest over and setting it down in her lap. It's fine if she doesn't want to talk about it; he won't press. He can probably make an educated guess if she lets him see the wound, anyway.

Sitting next to her on the couch once everything he needs is laid out on the table, Doc removes his hat with hands still slightly damp and sets it aside behind him.

"Sorry ma'am, do you mind?" If she doesn't, he will reach over slowly and sweep her hair aside to press a warm, wet, wrung out towel to the bloodstained skin on the side of her neck and on her shoulder.

"I have lived in many places, but I was born in Georgia, August of 1851." She probably has questions. Just about everyone else has asked at least one. She can ask as many as she likes while he redresses her wound. Luckily he seems busy enough focusing on that that he's not really making eye contact.

She doesn't mind at all, trying to assist him with the sweep of her matted hair. Although, she worries about what he'll make of the wound on her neck. It's very obviously rough and has been ripped open by something rougher. A keen eye may think it's teeth.

"1851?" Her eyes widen in wonderment and excitement. That means he's older than Stefan and Damon in terms of immortal years, and yet... he's so different. She lets out a soft, incredulous laugh. If only Stefan was here, maybe Henry would have someone to reminisce with. "That's why you call me "ma'am", which you don't need to do. You can just call me Elena if you want. Unless that makes you uncomfortable?"

He's pretty sure it's teeth, and in the kind of spot where a lover might have liked to leave a little memento. One eyebrow crawls up and up towards his hairline as the blood gets mopped away and the injury becomes more apparent. Still he says nothing about the nature of her wound. It is not the strangest thing he has seen, even if it ranks pretty high up on the list.

"Elena then." He glances at her and smiles before dabbing away at the site of the puncture wound itself, as gently as he can manage. Some old habits he has let go of fairly easily. Some he still holds onto. Far be it from him to be the one to let chivalry die in the 21st century.

"Watching you walk around alone so late in the evening makes me uncomfortable. This town isn't safe to be alone in at all, any time of day."

She sucks in a breath, trying her best to appear like she's as tough as iron, strong as steel, and definitely not someone who struggles to tear off bandaids.

"I appreciate your concern," she says, smiling. His concern comes from an older way of thinking, she believes, but it doesn't mean it's not touching all the same.

"But how else would I have met you and these low-hanging lights?" she laughs lightly. It's nice (more than nice) to avoid talking about the elephant (or vampiric elephant) in the room. Elena appreciates more than just his concern—she appreciates the fact he allows her the peace of pretending that the wound on her neck isn't suspicious.

"Were you in the early 1900s before you woke up here?"

The wound looks fairly clean, though he does check with a little torchlight just to be sure there's no foreign matter that he can see. It looks like a bite. Could be that she tried stabbing herself or someone else tried with a... tuning fork or something, that would be the next... implausible thing down the list. He's a little worried that whatever bit her might have poisoned or infected her with something, but that is something they would just have to wait and see about.

He licks his upper lip and cracks a smile, ducking his head slightly. It's true, she did meet him in such unfortunate circumstances. "At least you know where to come, in case you or someone else gets hurt." Whether it's this or something else.

"It was actually 2017. It's-- complicated." Peeling her dirty old bandages off, Doc lets it drop to the floor before wiping his hands with a clean, wet towel and opening the packaging of the gauze and the tape in his first aid kit.

"Suffice to say that I am old and a little old-fashioned. But I mean no harm." She would have to forgive him for not knowing her young, hip and cool millennial ways.

It's comforting that his first instinct isn't to rip open his wrist and offer her blood to heal her. This can almost be considered normal.

While she wants to watch him or at least offer to hold her old bandage, she finds herself stuck. She stares at him, eyes narrowing as she tries to do the math in her head. 2017 is in her future, not her past.

"That's in seven years," she says, sounding surprised. She's so used to people being from the past that being from the future is… "It's 2010… in Mystic Falls. How—" Elena shakes her head.

It's easier to settle on something she does know. With an incredulous laugh, she regards him with an amused smile. "You are probably the safest oldest person I've been around aside from Elijah today."

She trusts his information. Perhaps she shouldn't trust every kind person she meets, but she would like to think she has a good read on people who mean her harm by now.

"Heh. Sorry, sweetheart, but I do find it amusing you find the year 2017 more peculiar than the 166 years since 1851." Mostly everyone else has latched on to the fact that the years don't quite add up to the fact that Doc looks like he stopped aging for well over a century.

He redresses her wound, taping the gauze over as neatly as he can. Her hair is in a bit of a mess, but there's not much they can do about it here.

"Elijah?" He hasn't met anyone by that name yet. Turning around briefly to close the first aid kit up, Doc grabs another wet towel and wrings it dry in one hand before reaching over her shoulder to curl his fingers around behind a clump of matted hair and pull it forward, wrapping the wet towel around it and giving it a light squeeze to try and loosen and break up the blood partially dried and tangled within it.

"He's a little like you. An old soul." And not her story to tell, something she should've kept in mind before commenting on him. But Henry can take that as he sees fit. Perhaps he and Elijah would both find relief in having similar life experiences and years lived (even if Elijah had a good nine hundred years on Henry).

"No matter what I tell you, my answer might sound a bit strange," she says with a quiet sheepish laugh. She lifts her hand to where he's placed the damp towel, extremely grateful for his kindness. He's told her something of a truth about him and she figures it's only fair to repay it. "My boyfriend was born in 1846. That's why I don't find it extremely peculiar at all."

"Oh. I see." He will meet an Elijah at some point, but Doc's interpretation of 'old soul' will be rather far from the truth. Maybe older than he appears, but not that much older. And maybe questionable tastes in vintage styles or practices or something like that.

Doc pulls his hand back, inadvertently brushing the backs of his fingers against her palm like they have just engaged in the most scandalous Victorian flirting before turning to busy himself with preparing another wet hand towel to replace the one she is using.

"Well I am sure those hundred and sixty-odd years have passed like a hundred and sixty seconds gazing upon a lovely lady such as yourself." Sorry Elena, when it comes to lavishing compliments, he really can't help himself.

Oh, if only he knew how this face has haunted Elijah Mikaelson for a thousand years. He's right on the money.

Elena smiles, tilting her head at him to give him a rather amused look. He's a good flirt, she'll give him that. The whole wild west cowboy thing he has going on—the hat, the moustache, even the way he seems to speak—is very attractive. The fact that he seems like a caring person would make him the flame to a lot of moths.

"Has anyone ever told you that you know how to turn on the charm? I'm surprised there's not a line of people outside of this house just waiting for you to wink at them."

As far as he's concerned, he's just shamelessly paying a compliment to a deserving young woman. There is no other agenda beyond making her smile. He smiles right back at her, tipping his head to the other side.

"I have been told that real gentlemen are few and far between, these days. Men are not raised the way I was anymore. But the house is empty so far, and you are our only guest." 'Our', he says, so there are normally other people here.

"You would have all the time and space you need, should you wish to rest here." But he would understand her discomfort and unwillingness too should she choose to leave, not because she might not be used to being smothered with kindness but simply because she is in a strange house with a strange man. He would make sure she has somewhere warm and safe to sleep tonight, regardless of her misgivings.

018-020 » what he hides

marmite > vegemite

i'm shoving you into a well

no, anything but the well

slathers the walls in vegemite to keep you company

fine, vegemite > scomo, I'll take it

i'll let you climb out of the well this one time...

sent marmite to a US friend once, he thought it would be like pb and ate it straight out of the jar

WHY WOULD YOU LET HIM HURT HIMSELF LIKE THAT

because it was hilarious 🤣

sorry, i thought i had replied to this one! then i remembered your cruelty killed me 🤣

let's be honest you wouldn't have said a thing either

look, i'm not saying i would and i'm not saying i wouldn't!!

wow blaming the vegemite? what's next, stealing the pavlova?

can you stop reading my plans please??? just because i leave it next to the peanut butter...

well I'm probably 10 minutes early but happy new year

HAPPY NEW YEAR! 💖 may 2021 bless us with more vegemite!

I will happily ~toast~ to that 😏

get out of here you little marmite 🤭

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