thedispatch | (no subject)

[ William drops down off the horse, tying it up to the hitching rail. There seems to be some candles lit inside the building, but he waits until Grell's dismounted before approaching the door. His rescue attempt would be rather pointless if she took off while his back was turned. ]

I can purchase us something to eat. You should take up on that offer.

[ If she'd truly been standing at that cliff's edge for hours, she must need something. ]

[ Watching him intently, her mouth twinges upon realizing that he's giving her no room for such a thing. Huffing, she sees herself doing-- albeit quite clumsily. It certainly doesn't help that her legs are partly without feeling from the cold. ]

Might as well, if I'm to be sitting with you...

[ William frowns as he watches her struggle to climb down from the horse. She's being rather agreeable in following him despite objecting to it verbally. Being so lithe in comparison to him, she could probably out run him if she tried. As it were, he keeps close as they enter the building.

Soon enough they are greeted and given a seat at a small table near the place's run down bar top. It's obvious they haven't quite opened to taking customers yet today, but money is money, and in such a small town any business is certain to be good. The lady of the house offers to bring them some homemade breakfast if they won't mind waiting until the fire pit warms their cook top up.

There's a silence that lingers between them before William finally speaks up. ]

What is your name?

[ Grell has settled herself low in her seat, arms tucked tight against her middle. The establishment is warmer than outside, surely, but the fireplace hasn't quite heated the room yet, either.

She hasn't said anything all the while, and it's only once she's addressed that she raises her eyes to meet the other's. It occurs to her that she could give a fake name, but what would be the point, really. ]

Grell Sutcliffe.

[ William hums in acknowledgement. That family name is not one he recalls the family business working with, but there was no saying the redhead was also from London. ]

William T. Spears.

[ Assuming they're probably beyond a formal handshake, at this point, he refrains from holding his out. ]

[ With a likewise hum, she looks him over. ]

Of the Spears' family financial institution, I assume.

[ Not only does he seem the type, he's dressed well enough and is prepared to pay for her food, so she thinks she must be right. ]

[ There's a nod. ]

So you are from London.

[ He thinks on the name again, but can't place it anywhere. It's possible his father still held any business with them to himself. ]

Yes.

[ While she could leave it there, she can see that he's striving to piece his knowledge together, and there's nothing else more entertaining to do than converse. She sighs. ]

My father's company develops and supplies weaponry. Rather private, operates under the name Venatus.

[ Her gaze drifts. It's clearly not a subject she enjoys discussing. ]

He passed away last year and was succeeded by his apprentice.

[ Ah, that name sounds more familiar, though he can't say he's ever worked directly with them. Her last comment makes it all the more obvious why he doesn't even seem to recognise her. ]

Is that the reason you were out there this morning?

[ Grell's gaze snaps back to him with some confusion. ]

What? God no.

[ Though she can't quite smile at it, something of an amused breath sounds through her nostrils. ]

I was never directly involved with the business.

[ Well, the reasoning or not, that reaction doesn't bode well for what her relationship with the man must have been like. ]

What was it, then?

[ Leaning back into her chair, she seems to be making herself smaller, visibly uncomfortable. ]

It's not something easily explained.

That's to be expected.

[ His comments and questions are so monotone that he almost sounds robotic - if they were to even know what that meant. But William is not one to be asking purely out of boredom. He's genuinely curious, though his tone make be lacking the indication. ]

[ The seemingly lackluster and unsympathetic reply earns a faint furrow of her brow. ]

Very well, then.

[ Her eyes dart around to ensure that no one is within earshot, and still, her voice is hushed. ]

All my life, I've wanted to be a woman. Instead, that makes me a molly.

[ Her dead stare certainly has that Told-You-So quality to it. ]

Edited 2019-11-26 06:21 (UTC)

You made that rather clear in two sentences.

[ Just pointing out that it wasn't all that difficult to explain, after all. Though, he does understand that it can't have been something pleasant to deal with. It makes sense she'd be out there when he arrived.

Perhaps more surprising is his lack of any sort of disgust or aversion towards her. ]

[ Indeed, she watches him for any sort of reaction, and almost seems concerned when there isn't one. Is this man completely devoid of emotion? ]

...Most would have questions, or at the very least, claim me unsound...

[ No, she saw his face, out there over the cliffs. Perhaps he really just doesn't care. ]

Honestly, I can't even begin to understand my own actions or emotions. I have no business judging you for yours.

[ A very honest explanation, one that manages to pull something out of him, as his gaze drifts away from her as he speaks. ]

[ At that, Grell's features soften. ]

It seems to me that you've barely acquainted with them, is all. From what I've seen, they seem all too familiar.

[ Where her features soften, his brow furrows at her comment. ]

I've shown you emotion. What else would you call our initial interaction?

I've just said that I see and relate to them...

[ She tilts her head, peering over her glasses at him - perhaps not to see him, but rather, to connect. ]

And yet, I've also seen that you lock it all away without notice. I imagine that was your attempt at normalcy-- [ Her gaze drifts away. ] -- but, of course, we've only just met. These are but suppositions.

[ He huffs slightly, realising he misinterpreted her words and made a bit of a fool of himself. ]

I would say that I regret ever opening myself up to another, but then I'm doing so again, here with you.

[ A sigh and his features seem to lose their rigidness. ]

[ Grell doesn't know how to take that. She assumes the last person had been his wife, and so she must wonder what his expectations of her are. Most of all, she can't figure out what she makes of him.

Her hearts, however, may have fluttered just so. ]

That must mean that it's time to tell me your story, then.

[ Just as Grell had done, William gives a glance around, making sure no one is paying them any mind. Normally he wouldn't think twice in directly stating something to someone, but there are certain circumstances in his story that would not do him well should the wrong people know. ]

My wife attempted to poison me, presumably for any inheritance she would collect upon my death. When I discovered this, I was both heartbroken and furious. [ He takes a breath. ] I hit her and she toppled over the stair railing. Essentially, I murdered her in an outburst of rage.

[ Grell's lips part, just short of gaping. ]

What a wretched woman...

[ Because that's precisely what one should pull from this. ]

[ Still, her reaction pulls his face into a confused frown. ]

Yet I cannot help but feel guilt for harming her and foolishness for falling in love.

[ He shifts his spectacles from his nose to rub across his eyes. ]