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Plymouth touched his flat palm to her hair, giving her a little pat-pat-pat. "You sound ... not unlike me." Lonely. Really lonely. Lonely a LOT. Everyone close to him getting MARRIED and being HAPPY. There was something in her little speech that made Plymouth doubletake, but.... well, no time to dwell or empathize. He had a hand to liberate! "Hmmm." Plymouth invaded her space a bit more, getting his eyes down level with the imprisoned hand. "Hehe. Miss Jane. I won't cut your hair. Wouldn't think of it. Why... your hair is sort of ALIVE. You know?" She follow? Like, it had a mind of its own? Cutting it would HURT it. No thank you. No, instead he pulled a clump of the blond mess and poked at her hand. He twisted around her chair, poking and prodding and pulling as gently as he could. "Maybe your hair learned from your flytrap plant. You know, hehe, how to eat fingers. I should have saved you, like you saved me." |
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"I know. Its like Medusa." She agreed glumly. "I'm a gorgon." She totally turned men frigid, like stone, just at a glance. Except for one Plymouth Morgan apparently. "What would a secretary be without his fingers?" Jane asked. "I had to save you." |
"Why does that sound impossible?" Plymouth asked, tugging with a little more GRUNT to free her hand. Though, hehe, he was sort of having fun. Felt useful. And her hair smelled good and was that pretty blond color. He wasn't in a REAL rush and this was the best thing that had happened all day so far! "Can't do much writing without fingers either. Though, hehe, if your hair did eat your fingers I'd volunteer to be your scribe person. And I'd feed your rock and your plant for you." Plymouth Morgan? He'd take care of a fingerless Jane at work! Sure would! "You're more of a .... an accidental jester." Again, not unlike Plymouth. |
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"Do you own a mirror? Taken a look at yourself lately? You're quite the... err... attractive young man?" Why was that a question? Awkward. Awkward. She was NOT perving on him. She wasn't. Much. Sigh. She wasn't going to remind him that a quick quotes quill was about all she'd need, and generally wasn't going to allow her imagination to take flight and wonder what other things she might, if she were fingerless, employ someone like Plymouth Morgan to do. "...you'd feed my rock?" And click. Jane suddenly realised where all the random food that had been placed (quite obviously now she thought about it) in... reach? of the rock on her desk more than a few times, had actually come from. A jester? By accident? Sigh. "I suppose I am." And she'd look terrible wearing motley too. |
Mirror? Attractive young man? Plymouth freed the last of her fingers and gently put her hand onto her desk. He left it there and then returned to his seat, where he sent her bewildered looks. "You think I'm cute and because of that... I can't be like you...?" Plymouth slowly was putting the pieces together, "because you think you're not... attractive or whatever?" Bewildered. Plymouth was bewildered x 2984. "I'd feed your rock, Jester Jane." ......"I already have a few times. Hehe. The food is ALWAYS gone when I come back too." MMHMMM. Sure was. |
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"Its not that I don't think I'm.... its just that..." Ahem. "I'm different. From a lot of the... women around here." She gestured around, meaning.... Diagon Alley. The Wizarding World. "I just have a few more reasons to be pathetic and desperate than you do." Thats all. Thats all. Hem. "You could just go out there and pick up any woman you wanted to, I'm sure." Facepalm. Yeah. Yeah the food was gone. In Jane's belly. She pressed one hand to her stomach and sighed. "Thats... thoughtful of you, Plymouth Morgan." She said weakly. |
"Hehe." Plymouth's eyes rose above Jane's face to the.... hair that defied gravity. It was sort of great. Plymouth had mad urges to touch it. Or well, touch it again. Hehe. "You are different... but different is good. Different is better, even." Temptation won. Plymouth reached up and ran his palm over the frazzled ends of her upstanding hairs. HEHE "You are giving me far, far, far too much credit. You know my last girlfriend broke up with me ... because she needed space? And the one before that was in love with my brother. And the girl I probably should have been with all along, my best friend Evolette McKenna, I let her slip through my fingers... She'll be married soon. I'm her Man of Honor." This was all relevant somehow. |
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"You have an interesting way of looking at things, Plymouth Morgan." Jane answered. Puzzling young man, this Plymouth. Jane was used to feeling out of her depth, feeling insignificant and unequal, and while it wasn't like she felt she had the upper hand or anything in the developing friendship with the Daily Prophet secretary, she did feel a little bit more... more. On the level or something. And now he was playing with her hair. Jane let him, figuring it was easier to pretend like he wasn't and that he'd sort of earned it having had freed her hand moments ago. "Space?" Jane considered this. She wasn't quite sure what it meant. Her expression gave her thoughts away. The other two confessions were no less puzzling to Jane Holland. She sighed and reached out her hand to pat Plymouth on the shoulder. "Its been a few years since I..." Jane trailed off and shot a half-hearted sort of glare at the Quidditch poster. She'd be less bothered, she was sure, if he hadn't turned out to be so... so... oddly nice about everything. How was that fair? It was like it took away her right to be angry about it all. It simply underscored that whole pathetic thing that Jane was currently sure she embodied. "Anyway, none of that changes my opinion. If you were so inclined, I bet you could walk out on the street and pick someone up right away. And probably a good sort too." Jane's good sort catching abilities were.... nil. |
"Is interesting the nice way of saying wrong?" Plymouth deflated a little. Ah well. He pulled his hand back from her hair and lounged back properly into his chair. SHRUG. "Space." He still missed her something fierce. His Daphne. She seemed happy though, so... yeah. Plymouth followed her gaze to the poster, then .... "hehe." Not quite able to stay in his seat, Plymouth was up again and around her chair to get a better look at the poster. "I never noticed before. This is Cel's brother, though. First girlfriend, the one that is marrying my brother. Stepbrother." See? Everyone getting married? "Hehe. You made him look better. I like it. He probably deserves it, too." In fact, a family portrait... Nah. Nah. Plymouth shook those ugly thoughts out. He didn't REALLY mean them. "Hmmmmm," to her proposal. Hmmmmm. She was probably right. He probably could. "Getting doesn't seem to be the problem. It's the keeping part that is tricky." |
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"No its just, in my experience, not always true. It'd be nice if it was. And its nice to know its true for someone. So not wrong, just... I wish it were always right. So Interesting." Jane explained herself. Not wrong. She was just a big ol' skeptic. "I think I've had enough space for a lifetime." Jane commented, her tone sympathetic. She also took up a fair amount of it, so probably her quota got filled up earlier too. STARE. "You... a Toussaint? too?" Sigh. "And marrying your brother?" How did something like that come about? Sigh. "The thing is... ugh. He was actually... so... nice about everything. He never made me any promises and honestly he did a lot for my confidence." Not that you could tell right now... sigh. "He fell in love with some Holyhead Harpies player, and they eloped." And for Adriano Toussaint? That was still a miracle. No matter what way you looked at it. It was just... not the miracle Jane had secretly and stupidly daydreamed about. She smiled softly. "Well. You're right about that part. Getting isn't keeping and the ones you get aren't... always the ones you want to keep either. Or the ones that... want to keep you." She let out another sigh and it was so gusty that it caused her hair to poof out in front of her face. |
Plymouth studied the poster for another minute, stuck his tongue out at the less manicured-looking Toussaint, and returned to his seat. Once there, he flashed Miss Jane a wicked grin. She was speaking... logic? Or something? at him. It made him feel very Ravenclaw-y and he always DID like feeling Ravenclaw-y. "Agreed. It's like...," Plymouth held his arms out and WAVED them around, only knocking a FEW things off her desk," I have ALL THIS ROOM. Why am I always in it alone? It doesn't make sense. It feels greedy. I like to share." True story, Plymouth Glen sure DID like to share. He settled back in for the Toussaint discussion. He just nodded.Yep. Toussaint, too. Oh, nod nod nod nod. He knew that, too, about the elopement. When his MOTHER got wind of that, she just GUSHED and GUSHED about how romantic it was and made Celandine give her details. Plymouth hadn't put a whole lot of thought into it then, but NOW knowing that Jane was SCORNED - well. It made him mad. "I know her, too. My friend Tobi's older sister. We watched her practice once. She wasn't nearly as nice as you are." "I think you're better without that family. I am, too. They're snobs and they're mean - but they do it in the NICEST way," like how Jane was saying. Sigh. Just... she WAS better off, but he knew how she felt sort of. The heart wants what the heart wants. "My heart doesn't want the girls out there." It wanted a little blond in a flat not so very far away. |
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"I think people need their circles to overlap." Like so. She moved her hands together so that a part of each 'circle' overlapped the other, making an oval sort of shape where both of the rings shaped by her fingers had combined. She looked down at her hands thoughtfully. "Maybe... your girlfriend felt like it was overlapping too much?" She moved her hands together so it became one circle. "I think perhaps.... sharing the same circle makes it harder to share yourself with anyone else. Friends and family and all. Thats why you need to overlap only a bit. More with someone you love of course, but some space shouldn't be shared by more than one... I don't make much sense do I?" She smiled apologetically and then looked at her hands, suddenly panicked. "I didn't mean... this... your circle and... you know... mine. Hypothetical. Hypothetical." Facepalm. "Well." Shrug. "I wasn't the only one. I just think.... I like to think, and he did say so, that he cared about me a little more than..." sigh "All the others that I didn't know about at the time." Would she take it back? No. No she wouldn't. "I wouldn't take it back." She felt the need to say it. "I don't know what my heart wants. Just.... someone. Something." Shrugggggg. |
"You think I took over her circle??" Plymouth asked, the horror leaking out in his voice. It made sense and all, particularly how Daphne had wanted him to leave her apartment and all, but... Plymouth wouldn't have ever wanted to take over her CIRCLE. Daphne WOULD have a circle, too, and Plymouth probably came along and made her circle all lopsided and wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. He was too busy having visions of Daphne's lumpy Plymouth-tainted circle to really catch the awkward. He sent an encouraging sort of smile at her all the same. He got it. Hypothetical. What? "hehe...." ??? Others? The others? Plural? UHmmmm. That was bad, and Plymouth's horror returned once more. At least he was nice about it....? But if she wouldn't take it back, then it couldn't have been all that bad. Plymouth smiled again for her. "Maybe your heart would be interested in going for a walk after work? Not like ... you know...this," Plymouth held up two interlapping circles, "but more like..." he put his finger-circles up to his eyes and looked at Jane through them, "this. We'll let our hearts look at stuff. Hehe." Or just walk and not go home and have icecream. |
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"Maybe a little bit." Jane mused apologetically. "A little space. Not too much space. Don't you like doing your own thing sometimes? Like... I like reading my favourite books out in the park under a shady tree, or eating a popsicle on the beach and getting just a bit too sticky and sandy but having a bit of a moment for my thoughts to come out without interruption." The rest of the time she'd like her circle to be shared though. Overlapping. Jane laughed ruefully, blushing like an idiot but thankful that Mr Plymouth Morgan seemed oblivious to her idiocy. "That sounds fantastic." She held her own finger-circles up to peer through at him. |
Plymouth sagged. Even Jane thought he took up too much space... and she didn't even KNOW Daphne Hopton. Or, well, he assumed not anyway. He was a walking, talking circle wrecker. Disaster. Meh. But at least he had something to do after work. "I won't touch your circle. My circle," Plymouth drew one around him. "Your circle." Plymouth stood and drew one around Jane's head. "So after work then. Maybe you should do some work now, then? I'll... you know. Get out of your circle. I'll wait for you up front at my desk." |
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"Oh... don't be sad. What did I say? I'm sorry. I shouldn't try to help. I'm terrible at being sympathetic." Even though Jane was genuinely trying to empathize. Fail, Jane. Fail. She laughed gently because it felt like she was supposed to. Fill in the gaps where her awkward would usually go. "Sounds like a good idea. I do have a few letters to write." And technically, as an editor, she probably should lead by example and get those necessary things done. "I'll see you at knock off time." She told him. Sigh. Hopefully she wouldn't accidentally make him feel horrible later too. |
Plymouth shook his head, his smile a ghost of the usual one, but a smile on his face all the same. "Don't worry about it. It's fine." Shrug. He reached over and patted her gravity-defying hair once more. Pat. Pat. And with that, Plymouth left to go back to his desk and wait the rest of the day out. |
Daphne strolled in and set her belongings down on her desk. She groaned as she saw the pile of letters in her "IN" box. She had thought she could have a pretty uneventful day, but it was fast becoming clear that things in the sporting world wouldn't afford her that luxury. "Hi, everyone!" she said as cheerfully as possible. If she needed to be here for a long while, at the very least she'd try to have some nice conversation. |
As neat as Hunter tried to keep herself, it was impossible not to get a bit ink smudged when she was working. She sighed over the ink on her fingers and shoved back her auburn curls before plunging back into the editing work she had planned for the day. Maybe Plymouth could be enticed to bring her a cuppa and donut. |
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"Hunter." Errr..... Plymouth forgot to knock. He pretended to NOT have just stuck his face through the door and retreated. Then knocked. "Hunter." He let himself in, peeked back out in the hallway, then shut the door. |
"Plymouth!" She nearly shouted at him in her absolute RELIEF to be interrupted. Thank GOODNESS. Hunter spun in her chair and gave him a big grin. "Just the one I wanted to see. How much do you want me to pay you to bring me coffee and a donut?" |
How much? Didn't Plymouth do that for free? "Hehe. You know I won't take your money." But he would go get her coffee and a donut soon. Probably from Paris. GRIN. "But I do have a surprise for you. Are you familiar with a ... Mr. Andrei?" HMMMM??? |
"Andrei?" Hunter was much more interested in that donut than she was in whatever it was Plymouth had dropped by to say to her, and she tried to refocus on him. Oh. The one who ruined her date with moody Damien. "Did he try to pick a fight with you?" |
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Plymouth frowned and crossed his arms. THAT wasn't the response he was looking for. "He didn't... but he's looking for you. Want me to go tell him you're busy? Married? Incurable face ulcers?" |
"Ulcers?" She touched her face, leaving a red ink fingerprint on her chin, but otherwise clear of any weeping face wounds. "Merlin, you're a horrifying child, Plymouth. My self esteem can barely stand it." Hunter tossed her quill onto the desk top. "Did he bring flowers or chocolates with him? It's important." |
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