thedispatch | (no subject)

[ The surprised sound that erupts from her quickly drawls into a giggling croon - once she's regained her composure and can bat her lashes his way. ]

So rough. You must've missed me!

[ Lacing her fingers behind her back, she wanders forward. It's an idle pace, as she heads for the exit. ]

Where are we off to, then? I hope it isn't another meeting with Upper Management-- I haven't done anything significantly terrible, not that I can remember...

You best not have caused any trouble.

[ He doesn't give a retort to her first comment. The memories he just regained of her are having him question too much right now. It's easier to simply reprimand her for something instead. ]

Take the lift. We are heading down to Record Storage.

Record Storage--?

[ It's clear by her voice that this is entirely baffling to her. ]

Whyever would we go there?

[ Still, she does as he says, approaching the lifts and smacking one of the buttons. Waiting for it, she turns and folds her arms behind her, resting against the panelled wall to face him while they wait. She has a foot propped up, her head tilted as she bats her eyes at him a bit. ]

Is it some sort of investigation we haven't heard about yet?

You could say as much.

[ Keeping it vague, he enters the lift once it arrives and only just lets her slip though the door before the correct floor is chosen. He's quiet the remainder of the ride, leaving her to wonder on the subject. ]

[ Giving him a playfully scolding look, she takes her place beside him in the elevator. Perhaps a bit too close. ]

Oh, that's it, then? Going to keep me guessing? Flirt.

[ But the lack of retort makes her a bit easy. Enough so, that she allows the awkward silence to hang between them - twisting a strand of hair between her fingers and watching the numbers almost nervously - until the ding of the elevator disrupts it. ]

I haven't been here in--... [ Well, since she'd seen her record the first time. ]

I return here far too often.

[ He admits to her as they enter the office. William looks up to the agent behind the counter. It's a different man than was working earlier, one he actually recognises. ]

Sign your record out.

[ The clip board laying atop the counter is pushed towards Grell. She's well enough known around the London branch that the man doesn't even need to ask what name it's under. Still, William catches him before he disappears into the storage room. ]

The original reel.

[ That's a bit of personal information that she hadn't known before, and it might be the only one that he's directly shared with her. It earns a curious, perhaps even vaguely alarmed sort of glance.

Flustered, she accepts the clipboard-- but then, something in her very demeanour shifts. ]

My record?

[ The way she looks at the paper, one might think that she had just been asked to sign away her immortality. Her hand hesitates, and she's sunk so far into her thoughts that his words don't reach her until the record has been presented to them. ]

--they make copies? How many are floating about?

[ The man hesitates in placing the reel atop the counter, instead pulling the clipboard in to check what's been written. "Do you have an approval letter from upper management?" he asks, expecting to be handed one. But when neither of the reapers do, he sets the tin aside, shaking his head and explaining that a letter is mandatory. ]

I know that quite well. [ His already cold gaze narrows even further. ] However, whomever trained your understudy failed to inform them of this, as I was given my own original reel earlier. Without requesting it.

[ It's an obvious warning that he'll report the man for negligence unless he complies with their request. It works well enough as he relinquishes the tin and buzzes them through to the viewing rooms.

Grell's own questions have been purposefully ignored. William pulls the chair out from the provided table, then immediately begins setting up the projector. ]

Sit.

[ Though she can't recall remaining quiet for so long over the past several decades, she's entirely speechless while watching this exchange between them. She has positively no idea what in the hell is unfolding before her. An original copy is much more serious than having to do with duplicates, it seems - but, still, what exactly does it mean?

Grell isn't entirely sure that she even wants to know, and yet, she following behind him numbly and plopping herself down into a seat, as she's instructed. ]

I-- need an explanation, Will.

[ Wait, is he setting it up to play? Is he going to watch? Her hands clench, as she believe that she can feel the slightest tremor. What is happening? ]

We aren't going to watch it-- right?

[ He huffs at having to answer these questions, that have seemingly obvious answers, while trying to feed the film into the machine. ]

Not in its entirety.

[ The machine is switched on and William sets its speed high enough that the first portion of her life is skipped past rather quickly. ]

Just the part you don't remember.

[ And it's set to play, starting only a few minutes before William's set to arrive. ]

Edited 2020-04-16 08:04 (UTC)

[ Her lips part to question him about that, too-- but she loses her voice once the reel begins to play. Grell is entirely enamoured with the image of her mother. Even her father. Their faces had just nearly faded away in her memory. That brief, seemingly happy time together as a family ends within moments, however; she glances away as the records speeds through her childhood. Long stretches of loneliness broken apart by lessons meant to educate or toughen her, peppered with physical scoldings from her father.

Things begin to take on more life, once she seemingly branched out on her own. Having a flat of her own gave her the space to read whatever materials she pleased freely. She moved closer to a theatre, to see the literature of Shakespeare come alive, and took to reciting aloud at home. During one of her many visits to the shows, she was invited to one of their after parties - a mere mistake, as her handsome face was recognised, though uncertain as to where from, and supposed to be someone of some standing. There were people like here there; unusual. Some of the men were painted, others even in dresses. Finally, she began to feel comfortable somewhere - and the next even, she tried a hand at painting her own face, late at night, in her sleeping gown.

That weekend, she managed to smile her way into another post-celebration. It became clearer that these festivities were not merely for the show, and almost exclusively for the men. They were very open about their love, and it felt very scandalous, but freeing, and she was among the actors she so admired... Her visits became more regular, though she often remained too shy beyond keeping to herself. One seemingly random week night, though, the crowd was small, and the performer that she admired most took interest in her, for she was seemingly disinterested in speaking with him (though, in truth, she was just far more content admiring him over her book, from the corner).

Bored as he was, he charmed her. Talked her up, and curiously continued to pick at her throughout the week. Grell had never had the attention of another man before. She was beginning to think that she was in love. By Saturday, he had coerced her into a private room and bedded her.

When asked to return the following night, she had thought it to be another romantic randevu; however, she arrived to find another young man sweet on him. And several more. She had been too oblivious to the darker things that took place at the Molly House, and the reality hit her hard. Asking to excuse herself, she was teased harshly, told she should be honoured to be involved in such a thing-- but perhaps it was best that a virgin go home. Except, she'd just been broken in, said her beau. Heartbroken and easily dominated, she was coerced into spending the night with five strangers. She went home with little effort to right herself, and it caught the attention of two drunk men. She was badly beaten.

Once she'd healed, she found herself there, on those cliffs.... and Grell could swear that she knows what comes next. ]

I don't understand why this is important...

[ Grell murmurs, oddly flat, as she stares at the reflection in the table's surface. ]

[ William does her the courtesy of ignoring the earlier portion of her life as it flicks by. He just recalled his own memories of how she confessed it to him, after all. So he focuses more on finding the correct point to slow the film on. It's obvious she never wanted to view her record again, but that's really why it's so important that he share his new found knowledge with her.

As she's no longer paying the sceen any mind, William reaches out to force her head up. ]

That is why you need to listen to me and watch.

[ Although the redhead doesn't resist him, she finds her eyes darting from the screen and over to the playing reel-- and the look that flashes across them is rather dangerous. She's contemplating destroying the damned machine.

But then, William is right, after all; something unfamiliar plays.

Grell doesn't recall anyone else being there - no less William. ]

What-- [ Her voice cracks, becomes breathless. What unfolds has her positively stunned, all the way through. The silence that follows is heavy, her eyes wide with disbelief. She simply. Can't. Process it. ]

[ The record reaches its end and William flicks the machine off. The lights come on and for a few minutes he lingers there next to her, silent. He wasn't sure what her reaction would be but it's apparent she needs time to process. ]

Apparently, reapers who knew one another in their mortal lives have their records adjusted, so to speak. An attempt to keep us focused on the job. I wasnt aware of this until I accidentally stumble upon it while watching back my own record this morning

[ Hearing him speak, her brows twinge into a furrow. She draws a breath, but her voice is lethal. ]

Focused... on the job...

[ There are so many emotions festering within her that she's always pushed down, and they're all reacting and bubbling over like one of Othello's stupid experiments. (And the only ones that she ever payed attention to were those involving explosions, so she'd know!)

As she's always expressed best, wrath takes the forefront; lifting her clenched hands, she plummets them into the table, causing it to splinter. ]

They've kept this from us for one hundred years!!

[ At least she has enough foresight to shove the table away before it buckles over their knees. The newfound space also gives her the range to pace. ]

One hundred years, in which we looked one another in the eye nearly every bloody day but suffered our nights in crippling loneliness! Fuck their jobs, those hypocritical bloody sods!

Edited 2020-04-16 09:40 (UTC)

[ Quite used to every possible emotion Grell possesses, her outburst doesn't phase him. He stands there, adjusting his glasses while he waits for the brunt of it to be through. ]

I am off for the day, and I have zero faith that you'll be productive in any way aside from reeking havoc through the entire facility. You'll be clocking off and returning to my flat with me. We have much that needs to be discussed.

[ He removes the reel from the machine, not bothering to rewind it before returning it to its tin. With it tucked under his arm, he looks to where Grell is still pacing the floor. ]

Let's go. Now.

[ Best to get her away from others before it's too late. ]

[ It isn't until he commands her to move that it really sinks in - that she's actually going to accompany William to his apartment, so that they can discuss their very intimate history together. Everything she'd thought to be mere fancy, there was actually something there. Or, there had been, once.

With a heavy sigh, she attempts to gather herself to do just that. Still, she shoves open the exit door quite aggressively - which is hopefully enough of a cue for the clerk to stay out of their way! ]

[ A quick stop by the office to grab his coat and briefcase, and William's ready to go. He stands by the time clock waiting for Grell to get whatever she needs and clock out. Idly he wonders if he has enough liquor at home. He's sure he'll want a drink at some point this evening. All the memories flooding back has already given him quite the headache. And it wasn't helped watching it a second time from Grell's perspective. ]

Hurry up.

[ Thankfully, it doesn't take long for Grell to follow suit. The office was quick to pick up on her foul mood and stay off her radar, and she's apparently only deemed the remainder of her coffee worth retrieving from her desk.

Seeing her grumpily sipping from her mug may be difficult to take too seriously. ]

Hmn. I'm ready.

[ Without prompting, she slips her arm about his, lightly grasping onto his sleeve. Presumably, so that he could teleport them to his place. ]

[ With a brief glance to where their arms loop together he brings them to his doorstep, unlocking it and allowing her inside. There's a heavy sigh as he moves past her, heading to his room to get himself into some more comfortable clothing. ]

Make yourself comfortable, I suppose. I will be out in a few minutes.

[ Grell's mood lightens substantially, once they're inside. Curiosity takes over as she drinks in the details of his apartment living area. One could consider it a bit boring, actually, but she might describe it as minimalist and overly tidy. Wandering in, she closing her eyes with a deep breath. ]

It smells like you.

[ She mutters wondrously, thinking aloud. Watching him off, she tries a bit too obviously to sneak a peek at his room before he's off closing the door.

By the time he's returned, she's left her heels by the door and removed her coat to drape along the back of an armchair. Nestled into said chair, she has her socked feet tucked up underneath her, mug in her lap. She's apparently found his favourite chair, as it's the most broken in out of the lot, and thusly, most comfortable! ]

[ William's dressed down a substantial amount from his work attire, but somehow still manages to look as professional and clean as always. Apparently he stopped by the kitchen as, he too, has a mug with him. Tea, for now. He frowns at his favourite chair being snatched up, but he did give her free will to sit where she'd like, so he doesn't make her move. Instead he fusses with the cushions on the couch until he's fairly satisfied.

He takes a long sip from his mug after blowing the steam from it. ]

Honestly, I'm not even certain where we should begin.

[ The outfit earns a thorough look; apparently, she likes it, judging by the tick of her brows and lack of criticism! She also watches him in his natural habitat with some amusement. ]

It's-- complicated, surely.

[ A finger idly taps the side of her cup, lips shifting with the turn of her mood. ]

Things could have been so different for us here.

I suppose so.

[ He frowns down into his mug, replaying some of the scenes in his mind. ]

Our personalities are both so drastically different, now. I felt as though I was watching a performance, where the characters just happened to share our names.

[ A scoff of a hum, at that. ]

Of course we're different. Until now, we'd thought that we died under entirely different circumstances. We couldn't bear to live like that once, let alone endure an eternity like it...