November 24th, 1888 - MacKay/Walsh Residence
Conall MacKay

It had been a little over two weeks since Eva had finally plucked up the nerve to talk with Fletcher about her future likelihood of having children and it had gone surprisingly well- maybe a little too well, not that she was complaining. That thought brought a little blush to her cheeks and had her biting her lip at the memory. It wasn't that she'd ever doubted him, she would never doubt him now, but she'd really wanted to gauge for herself, firsthand, just how important it was to him to eventually have children. It wasn't very upsetting for her, which was probably strange for a woman her age, already past her 'prime' for things like marriage and babies, but Eva had never truly envisioned herself a mother anyway. She had plenty of babies; bird babies, creature babies, grown man-children; she wasn't lacking in things to care for or demands on her time.

Speaking of her grown man-child, Eva had yet to talk to him about all of this, though that was more of a cowardly move on her part, as she had no idea how Conall was going to react to any of this. Her gut reaction was that it would go poorly, but she had to hold out a little hope that he would see that she was happy and that was what mattered, right? Thankfully, when she'd approached Mrs. Sweeney about making one of his favorite dishes for dinner that night, something she hadn't  had in a while herself, her housekeeper was more than happy to oblige. Hopefully it would help to soften him up a little. Eva hadn't any idea where Una or Tierney were tonight, but she was kind of thankful it would just be the two of them for dinner, far less awkward without other people listening in.

It was all laid out on the little kitchen table shortly after she'd gotten home from the zoo, exhaustion creeping into her bones, but knowing if she didn't do it tonight, it would take her a while to gather the courage again. Having been the first to enter the kitchen, she sank gratefully into her chair and poured herself a small measure of whiskey. It certainly wouldn't help with the exhaustion but it would help take the edge off. The door swung open just as she started to take a sip and she passed him a tired smile over the rim of her own glass. "Hello Da, how was your day?" Oh Merlin this was terrifying!

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   Conall MacKay

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"Mmm," Conall said with his usual eloquence, as he drew up his chair and sank into it. It was both an answer, a description of his day - a decent one, if not the most eventful he'd had in his life (with the fog gone, it was doubtful any Irvingly day could be eventful) - and an appreciative murmur at the smell of the food before him. High praise, in fact.

These creature comforts - he'd always thought them beyond him, a real waste, something he could do well without - but the warmth of the house, and the specially, professionally cooked food, and the liberal helping of whiskey he poured out in turn - hell, in a glass, and all! - were a hard temptation to resist. Merlin, he was getting soft. Next thing he knew, he'd be a old fart in an armchair in a dressing gown and bloody slippers!

(Slippers, hm.)

"And yours?" He returned her weary smile, sure that he could count on Eavan to do the lion's share of talking, amuse him without trying, tell him something new about her little corner of the zoo. Meanwhile, he was going to tuck in. 

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Eva could only chuckle and shake her head at his greeting. Though he was gruff and could be considered some level of rude, this was normal for them, it didn't phase her in the least. It was especially apparent now that she'd been missing out on it for a few years. All in all, she was just happy to have him home, for however long he decided to stay.

"That good, hm?" She laughed a little louder, taking another sip of her whiskey to help steel her nerves. "I can't complain," It was innocuous enough of a start, as she tucked her legs beneath the table better, facing him and the table more properly. Merlin why was she so terrified? This was scary though, a lot riding on one conversation and Eva desperately wanted it to go alright. She was not one to let it get to her however, she worked with potentially aggressive animals for a living, she had plenty of practice not showing any shadow of a doubt, but damn if she wasn't still a little hesitant.

Unable to take a bite of her dinner due to the nerves, she fixed her father with what she hoped was a somewhat hopeful smile. "So Da, there's something I want to talk to you about." Best to just cut to the chase, no need for small talk. He'd probably appreciate that... hopefully.

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It had been good enough, his day; he was sure if there had been something to complain about, he wouldn't have hesitated. As it was, even as dull as Irvingly was - even with the zoo, which was more than most quaint little towns could offer - Conall was content, which was never an expected feeling any more. Content was a little better than getting by, a little more than just surviving.

Her day seemed to have gone without event, too, or at least nothing to remark upon: nothing until I want to talk to you. Conall glanced up in the middle of chewing a vigorous mouthful to survey her, a creased brow at her hopeful expression, which to start with was more hesitant than he usually saw her. "Oh?" He muttered, once he'd swallowed. Want to talk, she said, not need - how bad could it be, then, really? No tragedy, he hoped. "If you want help with talon-clipping, you just ask," he said with a fond little snort, sure that she was trying to butter him up for something and presuming it had to do with her birds. What else did she have to fret about?

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Eva could only chuckle and shake her head at his response, but was still bracing herself for what she actually had to say. This mattered, she wanted her dad to at least acknowledge what she wanted and hopefully approve... though it probably wouldn't stop her if he didn't. "Funny, not what I was thinking of," She stuck her tongue out at him playfully before the entire mood of the conversation shifted.

"Do you, ah, remember the healer in my room at the hospital after the expedition? Mr. Langley?" Judging by her father's previous reaction to Fletcher, they were certainly not fans of one another, but Eva was hoping they could at least get along, for her sake if nothing else. Otherwise this was going to get really tricky and fast. "Remember how I said he was important to me? Well, Da, we're um, talking about getting married..." There, just up and out with it. That was the important part anyway. He certainly did not need to know about everything else that had happened.

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No, it hadn't been. Conall wasn't surprised by that, though he was a little by her stuck-out tongue, an immature little reaction that made her seem a little girl again, the same spirited little ginger sprite she'd always been.

Of course, she got rather more serious after that, suddenly distorted into an unnatural sort of caution, of seriousness. "Aye," Conall said, after her first question. How could he bleeding not? He remembered how that healer had swanned in and out of the place like he had every right to Eavan's company, remembered him on the expedition just the same, ready to meddle in everyone's business -

But Conall set aside his dislike for the moment, growing worried, instead, by the mention of the healer. Something was wrong with her, then: she was ill, somehow, hadn't recovered right from the crocodile attack, and now she'd have to break it to him that there'd been complications. He'd only just got her back, and now - now this was going to be losing Nola all over again.

But that was not what she said, and Conall blinked, brimming with relief that she'd not mentioned anything even remotely medical. Instead, what she had offered up was such wondrous nonsense that it took a moment or two to digest it at all. Getting married! To think even her clever delivery could fool him on that. "Ah," Conall exclaimed, leaning back in his chair in sheer mirth, shaking his head. "Course y'are," he told her, descending into a series of guffaws without further ado. He grinned at her, broad and knowing. "S'a good one, Eva, but you'll have to try harder than that." He'd needed a right laugh, all things said. Still, fun as it was joking around with her, she'd best hurry up and get to the real news soon.

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Well of all the ways she'd expected him to react, this had been low on the possibilities, but he apparently wasn't convinced. "Da, why would I joke about that?" Had she ever even brought up another man in her father's presence? No, the answer was no. Sure it was kind of out of the blue and she had probably mentioned not seeing herself getting married in the past, but honestly.

Quirking a nearly-exasperated eyebrow at him, she couldn't do much else but to wait him out. The laughter was a bit much. "I'm serious, very serious." She added for good measure. It may have been a little out of character for her to actually be serious about something like this, but a lot had changed in the last year and everything seemed to be pointing her this way, why wouldn't she take it seriously?

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She wasn't laughing.

Conall sobered up fairly quick, from there. Why would she joke about that? Well... she had never so much as mentioned marriage before. Never mind never having mentioned Mr. Pompous Prat to him before, not in that regard, not in any regard. He'd been away, he knew, and bad enough at keeping in touch even before the remoteness of Amazonian life, but she'd written letters, here and there. He'd had to know she was still well, and alive, and safe. Of course he'd expected she would be, in quaint, quiet Irvingly, but she had never given him the faintest cause to imagine she had met someone. Or that it was serious.

He supposed it was his fault if she'd not thought it worth mentioning to him. He had as good as written himself out of her life, when he'd let her go over to Scotland by herself. But even since she had been here, she hadn't said. He hadn't come across Mr. Healer since the encounter in the hospital, and - however important she had said he was, if he were that important to her, surely she would have...

If there was a niggling sense in Conall's head that people telling him things was not unconnected from the possible range of his reaction, it was clear drowned out by the shock of it. "Married?" He echoed gormlessly, his brow furrowed from the effort of digesting this. It was a long time since he had been so wrong-footed as this, and he had never digested things quickly to begin with.

"What d'you want to marry him for?"

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Eva watched him quietly, the noticeable change in his demeanor as what she said seemed to sink in. She hoped anyway. Though she hadn't exactly expected her father to be thrilled she had been hoping he would at least be some kind of alright with it, distantly supportive? It was a snowflake's chance in hell for him to actually be happy about it, or so she thought, but she had to be optimistic he would come around eventually.

Once he seemed to come around, Eva nodded at his question. "Married," The response held a level of resignation to it that she hoped conveyed just how serious she was about this. Getting married, like this, for love, was, in fact, serious business. At least she was taking it seriously.

"I mean I love him, for starters," That had to be enough right? "He treats me really well, he's incredibly patient and understands how I feel about my work." She could list all of Fletcher's virtues, but she wasn't so sure that would be enough to convince her father...

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Elias Grimstone

  

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"Well," Conall said, a mutter of disbelief.

Well.

She loved him, she said. She was serious and grown-up and she loved him, so she was getting married, they had talked about it and decided and that was that - and he hadn't seen it coming in the slightest.

There were no end of questions on his mind, but his mouth had stopped working, as it were. He downed his whiskey in a too-large gulp, grateful for the discomfort of it, sparing him the discomfort of the rest of this for a brief interval.

How long had she known him for, then? How long had she loved him, this Mr. Langley? Since the summer, at least, and probably beforehand - but not in all the time Conall had been here or the four years before had she brought up this topic. Nor had he had one conversation with the bloke, besides during a storm of hail and rain-fire or at Eavan's bedside, and so all he knew about the healer was that he was decidedly middle class, above them in status and - whatever he understood about Eva's work - would have different expectations for a wife; and if he didn't, his family no doubt would. And why would Eavan want to be a ruddy bourgeois housewife - some fancy healer's wife - a wife, at all? She'd settle down, then, evidently. Never travel again. Never even come back to the States. So he was losing her still, in some way.

And she evidently didn't need or want his opinion in the matter, so why had she even bloody bothered telling him now? Conall felt, unmistakeably, that he was supposed to be... congratulating her...    

But mostly he felt that he'd been backed up against a wall, held to ransom for that one word blessing. "Well," he repeated vaguely, abruptly pushing up from the table, his plate of food forgotten in front of him.

He never should have come to Irvingly.

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Though Eva honestly had had any idea what to expect from her father, nothing was hadn't even crossed her mind. She'd thought he'd be angry somehow? Maybe that had been pessimistic. Still, she had expected some kind of legitimate reaction. She watched him process- and subsequently freeze.

"Da," She started as he stood, following suit. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but she felt the need to explain more. Though this had never been something they'd discussed, she could probably guess that he assumed she hadn't planned on bothering to wed by now. Then everything had gotten turned upside down and everything Eva had envisioned for her own life had shifted. It had taken her a while to understand, it would naturally take her father some time as well, but she wanted him to understand. "I know it's sudden and we never thought it would happen, but honestly, now, after everything that's happened, I just want what you and Ma had." That had to be enough right? She deserved that much, right?

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#jesuisgarbage Elias Grimstone

  

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Conall did not like being ambushed. He did not like being asked to declare his approval of a man he was fairly certain he didn't like, and he did not expect his daughter wanted him to lie to her about it, either. Most of all, he did not like Nola's name being invoked like that, like now he would be forced to agree, because she had been the best thing in his life and Eavan knew it, was using it against him. Didn't she know what she was saying, though? Had, she had said, unthinkingly, unblinking: the best thing in his life had been so easy to lose.

And that was what she was setting herself up for, making her life about some man she fancied.

If his expression had been closed off before, Eavan's mention of her mother had shut him down still further, and he backed away from the table, feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room. "What are you telling me for, then?" He said brusquely, with a bitter shrug. "Sounds all arranged. Doesn't matter what I think."

She would protest, he was sure, would be upset or would be angry with him, but Conall was no longer in the mood to hear any of it, no longer even had an appetite. No, all he needed was air. So he turned his back on Eavan and stormed to the front door, snatching his coat from the rack and whisking off into the darkness, no idea how long he would be gone.

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