23rd August, 1892 — La Travietta, London Opera House

Ozymandias was not a huge fan of the opera, and after sinking a significant sum into the ballet earlier this year he was hardly looking for new artistic enterprise to patronize. On the other hand, even in the midst of the social season there were not many competing plans for a Tuesday evening. He didn't know the plot of the show, and had barely bothered to read the program during the time they'd been allotted before the show had begun. He'd gotten a drink and chatted with a few people and eventually found his place in one of the boxes, alongside Sina on one of her evenings off from the hospital and a pair of their friends. The curtain came up and he lazily gossiped with the pair of them, shooting an occasional light snipe in his wife's direction, as the actors went through their paces on the stage below.

"I think that's the new ballerina in the row behind the Errolls. You saw her perform, didn't you Ozymandias? Was she any good?" The comment, innocently intended though it had been, might as well have been a dagger. It stung; he looked up sharply and then let his eyes sweep the audience until he lighted on Sophia Voss in the crowd.

"Good enough," he responded diffidently, flipping his program open for the first time and pretending to be interested in the plot synopsis printed on the inside leaflet. "The plot was a little too sentimental for my tastes. I think Lycoris liked it better."

He waited until the conversation had moved far beyond the ballet and Giselle before he dared to look over at her, trying to ascertain (despite telling himself he had no business looking) whether she was with anyone. She had never responded to his letter. He wasn't sure she'd even read it. It didn't matter; there was nothing between the two of them except a few glittering bits of stage magic, and he'd already determined there ought to be no future between them.

"I'll refresh our drinks," he offered, when the lights went up. He left the three of them in the box and headed to the refreshment line. Maybe he just wanted a moment to think, free from the expectation that he would respond to conversation. He'd been pretending interest in the opera for longer than was reasonable in order to duck conversation, and now that the curtain was drawn he didn't even have that excuse.

Or maybe he'd anticipated that coming down the stairs and into the lobby would bring him face to face with her once again.

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@"Sophia Voss"

  

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Though one of Sophia’s rare evenings off from rehearsals or performing, it didn’t seem like she was physically capable of staying away from some sort of stage for any reasonable length of time. Ordinarily she would be pleased for a chance to play spectator (it wasn’t as if the opportunity presented itself often). It was a luxurious break to be surrounded by any language that wasn’t English, as well. But the circumstances that brought her here agitated her. Namely the way Seamus insisted she attend with their newfound acquaintance when he had asked after her. This was not a standard course of action, in Soph’s mind; it didn’t matter how helpful he would be to the business. Her time was not something to simply barter with.

As it stands, however, these last few weeks she’s lost a fair share of credibility and trust with her so-called business partner. This put her about an inch away from getting labeled as ‘difficult to work with’ and prone to hysterics. Not even one so talented as Sophia could overcome that sort of reputation at ballet houses. Lest Seamus make good on his threats, she owed him at least a few favors…. This evening being one of them. The acquaintance was a perfect gentleman of course. Though it did little to lighten her foul mood over the whole affair, and as soon as the lights came up, she made a swift exit on the pretense of powdering her nose.

Outside in the lobby, she pulled a cigarette in its holder from her reticule and moved towards the doors. They were propped open, allowing a gentle breeze in - enough for her to perhaps clear her mind and ignore the situation she’d found herself in. Not just tonight – this whole blasted affair of moving back to England. What did she think she’d find here?

The woman glanced carelessly over her shoulder as she emitted a soft billow of smoke from her cigarette. It was in that glance that she saw a familiar face - that of a brunette gentleman, descending down the steps from the box seats above. There was no mistaking their eyes met. Sophia’s face must have betrayed her shock for a second. Just as quickly as she saw him the woman turned her back to him. A twinge of red came over her cheeks, and she wasn’t willing to let him see her surprise (or her lack of resolve on how she felt about seeing him, either).

But Sophia wasn’t the type to cower. There was… plenty left unsaid between them, and if he felt the need to approach her, she wouldn’t back away or shun him this time. The woman allowed herself one deep, anxious breath to reset her face. Then she turned back to see him as he drew near.

“Evening, Mister Dempsey,” she said, voice uncharacteristically soft in greeting, though it would seem her mouth had run dry. She glanced away and cleared her throat.

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thank you gin for the set<3

This is a bad idea, he thought, but his feet moved towards her all the same. She'd looked surprised to see him, but he wasn't the one out of place at an event like this. He didn't know exactly how much the audience seats cost, but he suspected it was more than someone in her position could comfortably spend, so someone must have bought her ticket tonight. Did she look surprised to see him because she felt he'd caught her? Not that there was anything to catch; they were nothing to each other. She owed him no loyalty. It would be foolish of him to think that the type of comforts he had been willing to offer her were ones she could not and would not just as easily seek elsewhere.

So why had she turned away? If there was nothing for her to be embarrassed about, nothing left tying them together, why had she looked surprised and then diverted her eyes? Perhaps that was why he moved towards her — the mystery. (At any rate, she could hardly accuse him in such a public place as this, so this interaction would end more civilly than their last had).

"Mrs. Voss," he replied curtly. Mrs, instead of Madam; putting her widowhood front and center in this interaction to let her know he hadn't forgotten and was not inclined to gloss over the fact. "Are you a fan of the opera?"

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Merlin, this was a pretense that she could live without - acting as though they had nothing to say to each. Not that Sophia imagined that they could have even a fraction of the amount of candor that would be required to clear this misunderstanding up. But with a question like that, how is she supposed to understand where she stands in his mind? It would have been easier if he had come near simply to curse at her existence. Then she would know what to do about this matter.

“Occasionally I am, yes,” she replied coolly, not elaborating on if tonight was one of those occasions. Blue eyes glanced up to his face briefly, not missing his chosen form of address. Perhaps it was a matter of respect, though it needled at her anyway. Her lips twitched into a slight frown. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so reticent to share her thoughts, but she couldn’t get a good read on him yet. Pretending to care about his feelings about the opera, however, she simply could not.

“I received your letter,” she said, bringing her eyes to his shoes as her fingers rolled the cigarette holder between gloved index and thumb fingers. She supposed this had something to do with why he came to her. “I… have been a bit too preoccupied to reply.” She read it several times. She’d even written several responses, all of which found the same home in her rubbish bin.

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thank you gin for the set<3

His eyes lit up when she mentioned the letter. She had not only received it, but had decided to bring it up in the midst of the lobby crowd. Granted, this was not as dangerous as the preshow; now, half the audience was in their seats and at least a third of those who were milling about were focused on the lavatories or the bar. Still, it was hardly private.

"Ah," he said, raising an eyebrow but not voicing the question on his mind. He wished he had a cigarette to match hers, but he hadn't thought to grab his case when he'd left the box. "It required no reply."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

“Hmm,” she intoned in a flat response, as though he just remarked on a spot on the carpet. The room felt quite warm all of the sudden, but she was not one to lose her composure so easily. Not when she was stone cold sober, at any rate, which she really would rather have not been the case.

He answered the first question she wondered, then - if he had wanted her to reply at all. It felt something like a last word type of letter, which had been why she hesitated to reply. Although, she had taken his request to heart. Perhaps all he wanted was closure, to know if she had gone through with it. There was a lot she wished to say to him still, if only she could work out this lump in her throat.

“Of course. I suppose you just came by to say good evening to an old acquaintance, then,” her voice was dispassionate, though her eyes were not. They scanned his face carefully. Finally, she gestured towards her cigarette. “Would you like a smoke?”

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thank you gin for the set<3

He had no answer for that, because he didn't know why he'd approached her. He had no answer, either, for the look she fixed upon him. Ozymandias knew he ought to keep his distance from her — not because his wife was separated from them by a dozen feet and a set of floorboards, or because they were in public and people might wonder at their behaving in a familiar way. It wasn't for his sake that he ought to stay away from her; it was for hers. The way their last meeting had ended and what he understood of the accusations she had hurled at him spoke of someone with more hurt in their heart than passion. She did not stand to gain from liaison. There was nothing she needed that she could find in him. He knew that, and in the clear air of an Irish afternoon, considering the matter objectively, at home, that was obviously reason enough to cease his pursuit of her. In the haze of a London theater, with her standing a few feet away from him, the logic was less clear.

She asked if he wanted a cigarette. He met her eyes. He ought to leave, but of course he wasn't going to. "Yes," he admitted eventually, feeling as though he had just ceded her a point in whatever game they were playing. Her fingers were elegant around the cigarette holder, with clean, shaped nails and soft skin. She had seemed to like twining them through his hair, the last time.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

There was nothing to be gained from reading into his agreement for a cigarette. She was merely being polite, over something so inane. Sophia kept thinking this as she reached into her reticule and deftly flipped open her case, not pausing a moment to offer him a cigarette that felt like a peace treaty. Though the second her hand stuck out to him, the gesture felt like lightning. She took care not to touch his hand when he retrieved it. He could light the cigarette himself, she decided, and averted her gaze.

The moment made her acutely aware of their surroundings. How the gentleman who accompanied her tonight might decide to look for her, and she imagined plenty of people here knew Dempsey. This was his side of the house. Knowing this prompted a small step away from him, some distance for plausible deniability her mind reasoned. She had no desire to let him get away now that they were here, but she needed a few furtive, deep breaths of fresh air by this open doorway, and a moment to collect herself.

“I did what you asked,” she started carefully, picking a spot on his shoulder to look at because she wasn’t sure she wanted to see his return expression. She assumed he didn’t need to be reminded of what he wrote. “I heard mixed responses about what it smelled like, of course.” The look in her eye was steely, despite how careful she felt she had to be with her next words. Unfortunately, apologizing did not come naturally to her, but she hoped he might see this was her best start at one.

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   Ozymandias Dempsey

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozymandias took the cigarette gingerly, as though he feared it might bite him — had he touched her, her skin might well have. He had left his lighter in the box with his cigar case, but he had his wand in his pocket and he retrieved it to light the cigarette when she turned away. He took a second to inhale deeply, held the smoke in his lungs, then blew it out in a cloud above the heads of the rest of the crowd. He was tall enough that he barely had to tilt his head to do so. He watched her as he smoked. Her body language confused him. She'd moved away, but her body was still angled towards him. He couldn't tell what he ought to read from her posture, or where she'd fixed her gaze (near him but not exactly on him).

He didn't know why she was telling him this, either. Of course he knew what result she would get if she followed his directions; he wouldn't have sent her a test like that unless he'd been sure of the outcome. Her mentioning it was just a way to making sure that he knew that she knew, about the truth of the cologne — but to what end? If she was offering him an olive branch, why the standoffish air? Why the step back? On the other hand, if she was ready to cut ties and move on, why mention it at all?

Still, he admitted he was gratified that she'd gotten to the heart of the matter. Even if he never saw her again, it had hurt his pride to think that someone might think he was the sort to resort to such ridiculous tricks in pursuit of a woman. Perhaps she had intuited this about him, and had offered it merely to satisfy the same urge that had caused him to send the letter in the first place. Perhaps, having said this, they could part ways and never think of each other again.

A fleck of ash fell from the end of his cigarette, which was his first indication that he'd been looking at her too long and hard for a supposedly chance encounter. He took another drag and tapped the ash into a tray mounted on the nearest wall. "I'm wearing it tonight," he said. It was likely a needless remark, since he didn't intend to be in close enough quarters with her that it would make any difference, but her reaction to it had been so strong the last time that he still felt perhaps he ought to warn her. (That, or — if her words had been an olive branch, perhaps this was his subtle way of warding her off, at least for tonight). "I didn't expect to see you here."

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   Sophia Lissington

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia could feel his gaze bore into her, so intense that she had to resist the urge to turn her body away from him. She risked looking at him dead-on and immediately regretted it. Those curious brown eyes focused on her as if she were some crossword he might solve, and it made goosebumps erupt on the backs of her arms. For a moment, it caused her to contemplate bolting right out this door. To hell with Ozymandias, and that gentleman in the theater. Blue eyes even flicked briefly in that direction, as she felt her cheeks twinge pink. That look reminded her far too much of a nicer part of their last encounter.

Resolve, fortunately, keep Sophia rooted firmly in place. The desire she had to right a wrong, and for their last note to have less dissonance. Maybe then, they could go their separate ways.

“Yes, this is quite the coincidence,” she ceded wryly. “Though I suppose this likely won’t happen again, since I do not usually go to the opera.” If that’s the riddle his mind needed to work around, she’d nip it right in the bud. Neither of them sought each other out, yet here they were. They wouldn’t have much to say to each other after this apology, so she should get on with it, yet…

“Mister Dempsey, I have… regrets, over what happened,” she spoke quietly, not at all interested in anyone around them catching a gist of their conversation. But it was critical that she said it, so she went on with caution. If she could not have the courage to write it, then gracious gods above, she simply had to have the grit to say it. Taking a meditative drag from her cigarette, Sophia wished she had more time.

“I don’t wish to excuse my actions. But have you ever experienced a loss so profound you’d prefer to subject yourself to the Cruciatus Curse five, ten times over? If you have, perhaps then you might understand where my mind went, with such a shock…” Sophia spoke softly as if she were soothing a baby to sleep, perhaps only a hair louder than needed to be heard over the lobby’s din. She was thankful for the smoke obscuring some of her face from him, which she was certain betrayed how she felt – guilty. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“And it caused me to… lash out, unthinking and afraid. It makes me very sorry to have ended the way we did. And to have called you anything but a gentleman, knowing fully well my own role in what transpired.” These last words came in a rush. She risked another look into his eyes then, wanting him to understand her sincerity. “I am very sorry.”

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   Ozymandias Dempsey

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thank you gin for the set<3

Oz kept his eyes on her, puzzling over her words. Regrets. Did she seek to undo what had been done? The words that followed did not imply as much; she didn't gloss over the events of the past and try to smooth them out of his memory, but rather brought them into starker detail. A loss so profound. A part of him wanted to say that he had, and that he understood... but that would have been disingenuous. He only thought he had suffered a loss so great. The month between Thomasina's disappearance and her return had been brutal, but she had returned, and she was sitting in the box he'd just descended from. He could only imagine the alternative, though perhaps he had a clearer mental image of it than most would have.

He was sorry that she felt she had to explain all of this to him, because she wasn't telling him anything that he hadn't suspected. She'd given enough clues in what she'd said as she'd thrown him out, and once the frustration had cleared and his wounded pride was out of the way he had been able to piece together the rest. He was particularly sorry that she'd had to say it in a venue like this — though perhaps that was for the best. If they had found somewhere more private to have this conversation, he probably would have touched her by now, and that would have gotten them both into trouble. Watching her fold her arms around herself, it was hard to resist reaching out to touch her now, even with the steady hum of lobby traffic moving past them.

"I hope you don't think I wrote in order to force an apology," he said softly. "I agree that the way things ended was regrettable, but I don't hold you in contempt because of it. I am grieved to have put you through such an ordeal — unintentional though it was."

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   Sophia Lissington

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia imagined any number of responses, but truthfully, she had not anticipated this. Something like compassion after what she’d done. She had been steeling herself for a scoff, a prompt dismissal, smug appreciation at best. But here she was offering an apology, and he gently parried it back. It would seem that absolutely nothing about Ozymandias aligned with what she expected; she should know better by now.

The woman’s mouth, which had parted slightly in surprise, closed promptly over the cool silver of her cigarette holder. She needed to have a think on this. Does this change things? Why would it? What can explain how his agreement caused her stomach to flip in somersaults? Or how tempted she was now, looking into those dark eyes, to close the distance between them? After everything that happened, she would be a fool to do that. They both would be.

“That’s… gracious of you to say,” she finally managed, voice only slightly wavering. “Although, an apology does not need to be asked for in order to be given. And if fate should have it that I can convey my sincerity in person, then I’ll do it.” So that is why she did. What happens after, however, she did not quite think through.

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thank you gin for the set<3

He shifted his weight as she responded, the title of gracious thrown over him like an ill-fitting cloak. It wasn't that he objected to the description generally, but in this particular circumstance... it was not gracious of him to feel sympathetic to her after what he'd witnessed in her dressing room; it was human. She had lashed out at him, yes, but she had used her dead husband's name in doing so. Her pain had been nearly tangible. Perhaps some people wouldn't have understood, with or without her description just now. Perhaps some people had never been truly in love, and then threatened with the loss of the one they loved. He had. They had that much in common, at least.

If her use of the word gracious made him uneasy, though, what followed was worse. Conveying sincerity in person may have been a euphemism, or it may not have been, but he didn't think the two of them meeting privately for any reason moving forward was in their best interests and was hesitant to endorse it, even in the vaguest terms.

"I feel you quite sincere," he assured her. He took one final drag of the cigarette and then crushed it into the ash tray. "If you'll excuse me, I promised to fetch fresh drinks for the rest of my box, and if I return empty-handed there are bound to be questions. Thank you for the cigarette."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Fortunately he had the fortitude Sophia lacked to put them out of their misery. Tension dispersed between them like a puncture in an air balloon, with enough force to cause her to draw a small step back as he extinguished his cigarette. Preparing for his imminent departure.

Sophia kept her expression impassive despite his words, and in spite of the swell of emotion tightening her chest. She tucked her arms closer together as though it could keep these feelings from overflowing. Absently, she still rolled the cigarette holder between fingers, cigarette long extinguished. There was nothing she could possibly say in this circumstance, nothing that hadn’t already been said or could amount to much better. The moment echoed with the same finality with which she penned her final discarded letter back to him - whatever you wish to come of this, I leave to you. This answer was quite clear.

At that moment, the lights flickered on and off to signal the show would resume in the next few minutes. Sophia let out a short, strangled sounding laugh. “Such impeccable timing,” she remarked blithely. Beyond this moment, if she was sad at all, she would not let on. In fact, she looked nearly serene. There was no reason to be sad after all. They addressed this respectfully, and cleared the air between them. That was all she wanted, wasn’t it?

“You’re welcome. Take care, Mister Dempsey,” she tilted her head towards him in a graceful nod, and turned away to face outside the door and relight her cigarette. It would be nice to stay here alone awhile, she thought to herself. The gentleman wouldn’t fault her if she took a few extra minutes to return to her seat.

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thank you gin for the set<3