open / and I've been putting out the fire with gasoline

[brushoff]

Who: Dorian Gray & others!
What: body horror, creepy portraits, murder???
When: early May & onwards
Where: Milton, Lakeside

Content Warnings: NPC murder, will edit as needed

( open & closed starters in the comments! )

Comments

[brushoff]

But he doesn't want to.......

Jopson is absolutely going to have to get onto Dorian's ass about this because he will be dragging his feet like nobody's business.

But there's something about Jopson's words that irritate Dorian. He frowns for a moment before pointing out, "I'm not callous. The fact that someone has died does mean something to me." Just not as much as his own existence does.

[lieutenantsteward]

He doesn't believe him at all and shoots him a dark look.

"And if I hadn't come along? What would you have done?"

[brushoff]

"I don't know."

And that, at least, is an honest answer. Dorian's got a plan for dealing with corpses back in Milton. He doesn't really have a plan for dealing with them in Lakeside.

"All I know is I'm not the heartless monster you want me to be."

[lieutenantsteward]

"No, Mr. Gray. I fear you might be something much worse." He folds his arms across his chest. "Stay here until the evening. Then leave."

[brushoff]

Dorian rolls his eyes in a bit of an overdramatic fashion, before he nods. "Leaving in the evening works for me. Hopefully we won't see each other again for a while."

[lieutenantsteward]

He comes over with a kettle to set against the fireplace.

"I hope we do. Once you've told people."

[brushoff]

"Look, I'm a man of my word. If I say I'll tell people, then I'll tell people."

Just slowly. One at a time. Not unless provoked. No big announcements.

[lieutenantsteward]

"I don't know what sort of man you are," Thomas argues, waiting for the water to boil.

[brushoff]

"Then ask me about myself," Dorian says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "If I'm to be stuck with you here tonight, we might as well make the most of it. And since I doubt you'll be fun, idle chit-chat it is."

[lieutenantsteward]

He glances over his shoulder again. "What do you consider - fun?" He pauses. "Here, of course."

[brushoff]

What an odd question to start with. Dorian frowns a little, obviously not expecting that. He mulls it over, thinking to himself, before,

"Most of what I consider fun I can't find here. So I guess it's reading. I've enjoyed having time to just sit down and read."

[lieutenantsteward]

Dorian had brought it up, and now Thomas is beginning to see why.

"You don't usually have time for that?"

[brushoff]

Dorian shakes his head. "I travel a lot. I like to keep busy. Sitting around and doing nothing is a luxury for my life."

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas pours them both tea into cups and hands Dorian his. There's nothing to sweeten it, but he doesn't even really offer. "What fortunate that you live a life of idleness, Mr. Gray. Where do you travel?"

[brushoff]

Dorian takes the cup, takes a sip of the tea, then winces a little at the bitterness. It's fine? It's fine. He's certainly had worse.

As for the question,

"Oh, all over the place. All around Europe, of course, but I've ventured out to America for a bit—I took a trip to Iceland once. I saw the Northern Lights."

And got mauled by a werewolf, but he's keeping that to himself!

"I've settled down recently, at least as much as someone like me can settle down. I work at an art gallery."

[lieutenantsteward]

The wince pleases him for a lot of reasons. Most of them petty.

"We see the lights here," he grumbles softly. "What sort of art?"

[brushoff]

"Modern, mostly. Contemporary. But I've an appreciation for the classics." There's a moment's pause before Dorian asks,

"You're retro, right? One of those Victorians? Have you heard of Walter Sickert? Or is he past your time?"

[lieutenantsteward]

"One of those Victorians," he echoes disdainfully, looking down his nose at Dorian for a moment. "I don't know the name, no."

[brushoff]

"What would you rather I call you?" Dorian points out, a little defensively. "There's what, eight or so of you lot from the same time? It's useful to give you all a designation."

He's right in labeling Thomas 'one of those Victorians' and he will die on this hill.

[lieutenantsteward]

He narrows his eyes just slightly. "My name is Thomas," he says with a bit of a bite.

[brushoff]

"You need a cute nickname," Dorian points out. Thomas. He's known dozens of men named Thomas.

"Going all the way back to the original point, since you don't have a frame of reference for the type of art I work with, I'll just have to describe it. Either that, or we wait six months until that Santa Pig I've heard people talk about shows up and I can ask him for a book."

Put some respect on the Holiday Boar's name, Dorian.

"Or if you want to know something else about me, ask a different question."

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas bites back a laugh. He is not going to laugh. He is not going to indulge this piece of shit murderer.

He takes a breath and covers it with a cough.

"Where are you from?"

[brushoff]

Was that a laugh? That might have been a laugh. Shit, he might be getting out of this intact.

Time to lay on the charm.

"London, specifically Mayfair. And I'm afraid to say it's even more full of rich idiots in 2016 than it was in the 1860s."

[lieutenantsteward]

He doesn't hide the small roll of his eyes.

"Ah, yes, I did detect that in your voice," he says with a solemn nod. "I suppose some things never change."

[brushoff]

"Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose," Dorian quotes, like a pretentious asshole. He shrugs a little before pointing out,

"There will always be rich assholes. And in a situation like this," said with a vague gesture to the world around them, "where their richness doesn't matter, you still have that learned rich asshole behavior. Lord knows when I'll resign myself to learning how to hunt, but it'll probably be a while."