February 4th, 1890 — A Cafe Patio, London
Set a little while after this thread

The drinks served at this cafe weren't anywhere near as cheap or strong as those at the Augurey Beak, a fact she minded only minimally as Captain Darrow relayed his tales of travel. Later, when her pockets were empty and her trunks still missing Jo would be remorseful at not having suggested the cheaper option. She didn't like having to rely on her parents for income whilst home, as they didn't always have much to spare themselves. Raising the amount of children they did didn't leave much wiggle room when it came to financial matters.

She was two drinks in and feeling pleasantly warm in the sunlight. The air was a tad brisk for her liking, but she could always find something to complain about. Might as well enjoy the sun before the dreariness crept back in. "You've yet to tell me of your own travels, and I've shared all of my exciting tales." Hardly, but what did that matter? "What regions have you visited that you loved?"

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred had been here once or twice before, and had recommended it because he knew it had a patio and she had made some comment about how unseasonably nice the weather was, given that it was London in February, and it had seemed a shame to go hide away in some poorly lit back corner of a pub considering the sunlight right outside. So far, she'd done nearly all of the talking, and more drinking than he had, too, but only by about half a pint. He didn't particularly mind on either count. He was inherently interested in stories from around the world, since so many were comparable to his own experiences, and he understood that it was rare to find someone who actually wanted to listen to them within the normal bounds of English society. And the drinking... well, he wasn't going to judge anyone for drinking, regardless of gender. He was a sailor, after all.

The first question she turned on him was a challenging one to answer, though. Love wasn't really the word he used when thinking about the places that he'd been — everything had its pros and cons, once you got past the initial wonder of being someplace completely new. The place he would always remember the most fondly was the place he'd lived in the tribe, but did that really answer the question either?

"Well, that's tricky — I think of my time in South America as a bit more than a visit," he pointed out with a grin. "But sometimes I miss it. Certain parts of it, anyway."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Saturn had playfully chided her on more than one occasion for how talkative she became while intoxicated. It seemed alcohol had a habit of bringing about her more bubbly personality, not that those she chatted with minded (or at least Jo was blissfully unaware of any complaints). Regardless, she wasn't yet past the point of being wholly unaware of just how much time she spent filling the air.

"I daresay your time there would count more as an immersive experience than a simple visit." Jo replied with a laugh. "What parts do you miss? I know I long for the food."

  

"Oh, the food!" he practically gushed at her prompting. It didn't take much, it seemed, to get him going — though ironically, he remembered that when he'd been 'rescued' from his life in the tribe he'd been looking forward to getting back home to taste English food. It was an easy vehicle for good memories, he supposed. "Roasted pork and coconut rice. And — and those things they'd make for breakfast. I don't know the name in English," he admitted. "But yes, the food, definitely. And the people," he continued with a grin. "The... sense of community, I guess. The way that people interacted with each other. I felt like..."

He stopped, worried that he was oversharing. He was starting to get into territory that not everyone would understand, and although he'd shared a pint and a half with her already, he didn't really know Miss Smith. Was this too much, too soon? He was enjoying her company, and he didn't want to scare her off.

"It's just a different sort of life, out there, is all," he said instead, taking another sip of his beer.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

The very thought of coconut rice was enough to trigger a deep longing for the local delicacies. Returning to the bland English food was always one of her least favorite things about coming home. There were only so many boiled potatoes a woman could eat before going truly mad. "I almost want to return to Venezuela now, if only for the pork." The craving was so intense she could almost taste the rice.

Never one for subtly, Jo couldn't resist prodding him for his hidden details. "What did it feel like?" The community she lived within whilst working was accustomed to foreigners and their strange ways, though they never made any moves to exclude her. They were a less restrictive, more intuitive sort. Jo always felt at ease amongst them. "More free, maybe? Compared to home anyway." She suggested.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

A little prodding was all it took to get him talking once again, and Alfred found himself hurriedly setting down his drink. "Yes, exactly that. And more than that. I felt — like people understood me there," he confessed. Back in the tribe, everyone had been very aware that he was a foreigner, of course, but they had been willing to accept him all the same. When he'd begun to really feel like a member of their community, it seemed like everyone really understood that there were two sides to his identity — a duality. Here, on the other hand, it seemed like everyone wanted to see only one side of him. When it wasn't meeting their standards, they wondered what was the matter with him — why he wasn't English enough for their tastes.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Jo nodded and gave him a knowing smile. The warm welcome the villagers gave her was a large reason why Jo kept returning to the same area (that was if one was discounting the continuing excavation). She hadn't ever felt as though she truly belonged in England, what with its narrow views and strict moral code, but there? Central America was where she felt at home for the first time. "I know what you mean. There was a sense of welcome and belonging that I've yet to find anywhere else." She added before taking another drink of her beer.

  

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beautiful set by mj

It hadn't occurred to him before that anyone might be able to empathize with his time abroad except Pablo, who had been there. It was just an experience so remarkably different than anything that anyone else he'd met had gone through, and different even than anything he'd ever heard about someone else going through. It was the stuff of fiction, really — which was, he supposed, why it had been so easy for his editor to find authors willing to sensationalize and embellish his own journal entries from the time before he'd published them. The way that she was talking about her time in the Americas, however, and the language that she was using, seemed to imply that maybe she did get it — or at least a part of it, if not the entire experience.

"Do you have tattoos?" he asked suddenly, then realized how utterly inappropriate the question would sound to English ears and immediately blushed. The words had left his mouth before he'd had a chance to think, because for him, this was not a change of topic. His own tattoos, and the stories behind how he had acquired them, were intimately linked with that idea of belonging — and they were symbolic, at this point, not just for the tribe he'd been living with but for his own personal reasons as well. Even in the best of circumstances, though, the question was too personal for someone he'd only just met that afternoon, and if she didn't see the same connection in the topics that he did, it would at least border on offensive.

"I'm sorry," he apologized hastily. "I didn't mean to imply — please, don't answer that. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry, really."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Both the suddenness and the topic of his question had Jo nearly choking on her beer. It wasn't that she had an issue with discussing it (it was quite the opposite, in fact) but she hadn't expected such a discussion whilst in her home country. The proper sort would be scandalized by such an idea, after all. Hell, even Earth or Mars might've been taken aback by such a question.

"Oh, no. It's quite alright. I don't mind." She laughed once setting her cup down. The opportunity for her to get a tattoo had risen a handful of times, but each time Jo shied away from the pain. Thankfully, the villagers hadn't forced the issue on her, though Jo sometimes believed they frowned upon her for not partaking. "No, I don't...not yet anyway. I uhm...I get a bit queasy when it comes to pain." Jo silently wished they were in the seedy pub of the ABC so that the blush on her cheeks would be less visible.

She took another drink of her beer before quirking her eyebrow at him and asking, "do you have tattoos?"

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred was still regretting having let the question slip past his lips without any further thought, but her laughter put him somewhat more at ease. Her answer didn't surprise him — because, really, it was a stupid question. Of course she didn't have tattoos. It wasn't something that English women did, and it wasn't a question he should have ever thought to ask an English woman, world traveler or not. She was being polite by offering an excuse, he thought; she had probably never very seriously considered it, and was just trying to pretend, for his sake, that his question hadn't been quite as ridiculous as it was.

He was still blushing as he answered her question, but only of residual feeling, not because he was embarrassed about the presence of his own tattoos. As a matter of fact, his hand absently moved towards the top button of his shirt as he nodded, to slip a button or two loose so that he could show her. He realized before he actually got a button off what he was doing, though, and what an absolutely terrible idea it was. He couldn't just strip his shirt off (or even open the front of it up) on this patio, which was more or less just a public street in London, to show her his tattoos. Merlin, what was he thinking? It was as though talking about his time in South America, even as briefly as they had, had sent the English portion of his brain off on a little vacation, and he had forgotten all sense of propriety.

Well, at least he'd caught himself that time. "Yeah, I do," he said, moving his hand to awkwardly drum the side of his pint glass instead. "I think they're more or less common knowledge by now. Witch Weekly ran a whole piece on 'em once."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Captain Darrow's hand at his buttons didn't escape Jo's attentions. She held little of the same views as most Englishmen, but even she knew better than to undress in such a public setting. Were they across the ocean Jo wouldn't have bat an eye as nudity wasn't such a taboo in Venezuel, but they were quite obviously still on a public patio in London.

Witch Weekly doing a feature on his tattoos was somewhat surprising. Jo had yet to subscribe to the trashy gossip rag (and likely would never) so it wasn't shocking that she was unaware of the feature. If anything, she was shocked only by the fact that it had been done at all. They certainly couldn't have published photos of his tattoos, not if they were on his chest anyway (which was a national tragedy really). Jo's attention drifted back to the buttons of his shirt, curiosity besting her normally subtle nature. There were numerous tribes he could have resided with, all with their own style of tattooing. Just what his looked like Jo longed to know.

"I must have missed that edition." She said with a shrug. "Perhaps if our paths cross abroad in the future you csn show me then."

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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beautiful set by mj

What an odd thing to say, he couldn’t help but think as she responded, although in all fairness their conversation had not been marked by normalcy and decorum thus far. The invitation to show her his tattoos was one thing, but the fact that she’d specified they could do so abroad was something else entirely. It implied, at least to his ears, a total escape from the bounds of propriety — which was logical, he supposed, if they were looking for a situation in which it would be acceptable for him to be shirtless, but still. Even though she hadn’t mentioned anything except looking, it sounded scandalous just by virtue of the fact that it couldn’t take place in England. Had she meant it to? Was she... flirting with him? The idea surprised him. Perhaps it shouldn’t have, given that she’d asked him out for a drink within minutes of meeting him, and they’d been drinking and swapping stories for some time now. Still, he was not at all accustomed to finding himself in these sorts of situations. The idea that anyone might have any genuine interest in him was strange enough — that that interest might extent beyond the casual curiosity was yet another logical leap he simply hadn’t been prepared to make.

“Yeah,” he said, with a shy sort of smile. “Maybe.” How was one supposed to respond to flirting? Probably not like this, but he was at a loss for what else to say. A part of him wanted to put a pin in their current conversation and stop to clarify things — a part of him, he supposed, that remembered how quickly things had spiraled out of control with Zelda when he hadn’t been upfront with her about everything before he’d left for Avalon — but what, exactly, would he clarify? It wasn’t as though he had any very strong feelings about her one way or another, having only just met her an hour or so ago. With Zelda, he’d had very definite reasons that he couldn’t get involved with her, before he accidentally had — but it wasn’t as though he really had those, now, either, was it? He wasn’t imminently about to set sail anywhere (much to his chagrin), he had no upcoming plans that involved peril and possible death, and he wasn’t otherwise committed.

(Zelda hadn’t returned his last letter, so saying he was not committed was, perhaps, an understatement — but since he didn’t know what the actual state of things was it was at least safe to say that much).

So... what? Should he encourage her? Flirt back? Alfred wasn’t even sure how to go about that, awkward as he always found any sort of structured or pre-planned social interactions to be. It occurred to him that he’d already asked her a strange and incredibly personal question out of nowhere, and maybe she’d interpreted that as a ham-fisted attempt at flirting. Maybe she thought he’d started it, and she was just being polite and returning what she perceived as his interest, mirroring him while the conversation played out. Who knew, he reflected, whether there was any actual attraction at all, on either side. He had no idea how to read this sort of thing, and now he’d spun himself up in his thoughts too much to even be able to recognize his own feelings on the matter. Merlin, what a mess he was. No wonder Zelda had given up on him.

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   Jupiter Smith

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Truthfully, Jo didn't believe he walked the line of English propriety before offering her suggestion. Someone who had traveled as much as he generally wasn't the sort to attend Society functions or operate as though he belonged. Whether his traveling nature stemmed from a similar love of exploring like she or something as simple as not having anything else to do, Captain Darrow was too worldly to conform to these strict rules. Or at least that's what Jo believed before his non-answer.

Her interest in him diminished slightly at the realization. She understood why those who hadn't experienced any other cultures conformed so strictly, for they knew nothing else. How was one meant to hold opposing beliefs if they were entirely unaware such beliefs existed? It didn't fit that he cared what their peers thought of him...unless...

Unless England was where he felt as though he belonged and he was just reluctant to admit it.

Well. That was a disappointment.

"Will you be leading any other expeditions soon?" Jo asked casually. Not because she wished to join him, but simply because her disappointment didn't yet outweigh her desire to relate to a fellow traveler. Saturn already knew all her stories, a new friend was always appreciated.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

Alfred was still feeling quite at a loss as to how to proceed — both in what to actually say and do, and in how to try and still his thoughts enough to get stock of what was actually going on, if anything even was going on — but was saved from having to figure it all out by her next question. A change of topic was a welcome relief, and a chance of topic to something so familiar doubly so.

"Not as soon as I'd like," he answered, tipping his pint glass up and eying the foam at the edge of his beer critically. "I was supposed to be somewhere off the west coast of Africa by now, en route to India, but this thing with the chest's got us locked up in port waiting on the Ministry," he explained, realizing as he spoke that he should probably elaborate on what this thing with the chest was. Shaking his head slightly, he continued, "Someone — I'm not sure who exactly, though I've suspicions — tried to smuggle this chest onboard before we left, and it turned out to be some sort of... I don't know. Something the Ministry wanted to deal with. It, uh... wasn't particularly friendly," he said with a loose shrug. "And they asked us not to leave until they've got it... resolved, I guess. I don't know what that's supposed to look like."

All of that, though, didn't really answer the question that she'd asked, because India was hardly an expedition.

"We're just meant to escort these two other ships to India," he explained, leaning in on the table slightly in his eagerness to talk about something he was really passionate about. "For security, anti-piracy, that sort of thing. It's not an expedition. I've been doing a lot of these kinds of things lately — not anything terribly exciting, but honest work." And honest pay, which was the important part — the whole point had been that he'd been trying to save up capital for a house somewhere, and a comfortable lifestyle that could support a girl from a nice family — so that Zelda's father would deign to give him so much as a second glance, if he came asking to court her again — but since that didn't seem to be in the cards anymore, he supposed he wasn't saving money towards much of anything, at this point. The point of India, really, had been to get away for a while (and maybe take some time to move on from the idea of moving things forward with Zelda), which made it twice as unfortunate that this trip had started off the way it did — with him and his whole crew stuck in London indefinitely.

"But I'd love — if I can work up to it — to do what we were trying to do with the Sycorax. Chart all the magical islands in the South Sea," he said enthusiastically. "With a whole team of people there to document everything — magizoologists, herbologists, all of that. Archaeologists, too," he added with a grin. "I don't know if they've got ruins on any of the undiscovered islands in the South Sea, but... I don't know that they don't," he joked, raising his glass in something of a mock toast before taking a drink.

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   Jupiter Smith

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

While Jo would never claim to have the ability of trained cursebreakers, she had had to deal with mild to moderate ones during their excavations. Some of the spells surrounding the toombs had unforeseen circumstances that required immediate attention, which meant waiting for a cursebreaker to rush over was impossible. Granted, the curses she encountered were all of a similar type and origins. It was simple to break those when she'd already dismantled several of the same herself.

A cursed chest was fascinating, though. It had to possess some sort of glittering treasure to require a curse potent enough that the ministry had yet to release his ship. "Wow...and have they shared any details with you on the nature of the curse?" Her curiosity was exploding. A part of her wondered if he'd allow her aboard to see his ship. Likely not if the ministry was as involved as he said. Jo's near-empty glass sat forgotten in front of her as she continued, "I'm no cursebreaker, interesting as such a career would be, I've encountered a few though. Nasty things." Were it not for her quick thinking Jo would be a fingerless archaeologist due to some of the curses she had experienced.

Her running thoughts of curses were forgotten at the prospect of an exploratory adventure. How incredible such a trip would be! Jo's smile broadened as he invited her along. Even if there were no ruins she would undoubtably find some other way to be useful just to be included. "How do you 'work up to it'?" She asked excitedly despite her lack of understanding the intensity of planning such a trip.

  

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beautiful set by mj

"They haven't shared any details about anything," Alfred complained. He could not pretend to share her enthusiasm for cursebreaking, so this whole ordeal was not even interesting to him in the abstract if it were happening to someone else sort of way. The exploring aspect of cursebreaking as he understood it might have been worth talking about, but the actual curses themselves just gave him jitters. He didn't want to mess with that sort of magic, ever — which was why he'd been so quick to turn the ship around when he'd realized the nature of the smuggled chest. He had been relieved to get it off the ship, but he had expected to turn around and be on his merry way in a day or two, not to be stuck in port indefinitely. The longer he stayed here, the more frustrated he grew with this entire situation, generally.

Talking about expeditions, on the other hand, was far more enjoyable, even if those expeditions were never likely to actually happen. Alfred took a sip of his beer and launched into an explanation that was probably a tad more detailed than she was expecting. "Well, in order to do it right, you've got to be abroad for at least a year, probably two. So there's the logistical piece of actually getting all of the supplies together for a trip that long, and planning out where and when you can pull into port and what you'll be able to restock in which port. And charting out which route you'll take and how long you should expect to spend doing it, which you have to figure in all of the typical weather and wind conditions for. And accounting for storms or sitting listless, other setbacks. And then you have to find a capable crew who're able and willing to be away that long. And, uh — ones that aren't worried about what happened to the Sycorax," he added, with a shrug and half a chuckle. He wasn't trying to make light of the fate of the first voyage, of course, but he could just picture himself trying to navigate that conversation with a new set of sailors, and that was a little funny, in a dark way. Why yes, the last crew that attempted this did all die, many of them slowly or painfully... why do you ask?

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER