May 8th, 1891 — Greengrass Parlor, N. Bartonburg
There were a number of reasons that Ford did not typically drink as much as he had last night (not that he had at any point intended to drink so much last night), and the way that he felt the next morning was certainly among their number. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, he was tired enough that he felt as though his whole body hurt from the effort of having to do as much as prop himself up in a chair in the parlor. He'd fought to eat as much breakfast as he could manage, which was just a piece of toast and an apple. The smell of coffee was turning his stomach, so he'd settled in with tea instead, hoping that he'd be able to manage the milder drink and that it might make him feel better. He really had to feel better, because they had a whole thing they were supposed to go to, with garden displays and underwater tunnels and a dance later that night, and there was absolutely no way he could manage it with the way he was feeling right now.
He'd put that day's copy of the Prophet in his lap less because he had any intention to read it and more because it might serve as a shield to fend off conversation from his siblings. He was curled up in one of the armchairs with his body angled away from the nearest window (was the sun always this bright in the morning? it was a cruel trick of fate that after how dismal Scotland was for most of the year the clouds had decided to part today of all days). Ford opened the newspaper — again with no intention of reading it, but more of looking as though he was reading it — only there was a familiar face staring back at him from the inside page. Society News. The Macnair family is pleased to announce the engagement of Mr. Valerian Macnair to Miss Tatiana Lestrange. A wedding date has yet to be announced.
For a moment Ford just stared at it, not sure what to think. Maybe it was a misprint and they meant one of the other Mr. Macnairs, and they'd gotten the photograph mistaken, too. Maybe it was some sort of joke that Ford didn't understand. Maybe it wasn't real at all, and this was some sort of weird drunken dream and he hadn't even woken up yet. Any of those scenarios seemed more plausible than the idea that the man he'd had in his mouth a mere three days ago was now engaged.
Someone was saying something, and Ford guessed from the tone that she had already repeated herself at least once, though he hadn't heard the first (second? third? how long had he been staring at this newspaper without even a passing awareness of what was happening around him in the parlor?) time. He blinked, looked over at her, and then winced slightly at the light coming in from the windows behind her. "Sorry — what?"
He'd put that day's copy of the Prophet in his lap less because he had any intention to read it and more because it might serve as a shield to fend off conversation from his siblings. He was curled up in one of the armchairs with his body angled away from the nearest window (was the sun always this bright in the morning? it was a cruel trick of fate that after how dismal Scotland was for most of the year the clouds had decided to part today of all days). Ford opened the newspaper — again with no intention of reading it, but more of looking as though he was reading it — only there was a familiar face staring back at him from the inside page. Society News. The Macnair family is pleased to announce the engagement of Mr. Valerian Macnair to Miss Tatiana Lestrange. A wedding date has yet to be announced.
For a moment Ford just stared at it, not sure what to think. Maybe it was a misprint and they meant one of the other Mr. Macnairs, and they'd gotten the photograph mistaken, too. Maybe it was some sort of joke that Ford didn't understand. Maybe it wasn't real at all, and this was some sort of weird drunken dream and he hadn't even woken up yet. Any of those scenarios seemed more plausible than the idea that the man he'd had in his mouth a mere three days ago was now engaged.
Someone was saying something, and Ford guessed from the tone that she had already repeated herself at least once, though he hadn't heard the first (second? third? how long had he been staring at this newspaper without even a passing awareness of what was happening around him in the parlor?) time. He blinked, looked over at her, and then winced slightly at the light coming in from the windows behind her. "Sorry — what?"
[Open to cameos from other Greengrasses if desired! ^^]
Set by Lady!