merry_heart | (no subject)

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It's a long, long way to the very, very top of the Northwest Tower, but that's where Francis has been staying lately.

(Susan named him Francis. She thinks it suits him.)

She tugs a little on X's hand as they make their way down corridors and up stairs and down more corridors.

"When we get there," she says, as they turn a corner and are almost to the bottom of the stairs, "you have to pretend to be scared. Otherwise, you'll hurt his feelings.

"He's trying to be scary.

"He's just not very good at it yet."

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X's expression settles into dubious lines, even as she tugs back a little on Susan's hand.

It would be bad if anyone fell down the stairs.

For one.

"I am not good at being afraid."

This is pretty much the truth.

"There are things I should do?"

"Just gasp when he says 'boo,' and then tell him you were totally scared when he asks."

There's a fair bit of Parker in some of this inflection. Perhaps X will recognize it.

"Like this," Susan says, helpfully demonstrating a very melodramatic gasp.

X considers that, having taken careful notes on Susan's performance.

Then --

"I do not think I can do that. As effectively."

"Hmmmm," Susan says.

"You could try, though.

"I'll help you."

"Okay."

Because Susan is asking, X is willing to try.

Too bad her attempt sounds like a horrific cross between a cough and a hiccup.

Close enough!

"Ready?" Susan asks, and they start up the many many many steps to the part of the tower Francis has taken to trying to haunt.

"I will try to be," X says very seriously.

She takes care to make a lot of noise while they climb the stairs.

If it would be embarrassing for Francis not to scare his guests, it would be even more embarrassing to be caught by surprise.

Right?

Right.

See, X is really very good at this.

Francis hates it when people sneak up on him.

The way the ghost is pacing across his tower room -- back firmly toward the door at all times -- would certainly make it easy for someone to sneak up on him.

"Oh dear. Oh very dear. Guests, and I have no food or drink worth the name. Memories, oh yes, those are everywhere, but -- No. No. Not refreshments. Chains and spikes and terror And -- oh it really is too dreadful to think about. But -- "

Then he starts and turns to face X and Susan, eyes wide and panicked.

"Oh. Oh, there you are! I -- Boo. Yes, that's right, isn't it? Boo."

He flaps his hands in an agitated fashion, fingers curved to look like claws.

It only lasts a second.

Susan does her very best I-am-totally-scared gasp.

"Francis! You scared us!" she says.

"And, yes, it's boo. That's right," she adds, reassuringly.

"It was very effective," X offers, hard on the heels of Susan's reassurance.

Is this to cover from her failed attempt to gasp?

Maybe.

Though her eyes did go wide. Maybe that will be good enough.

"Oh, did I?"

His expression grows very pleased for a moment, then falls back into something like potentially horrified worry.

"Only you're not about to cry, are you? I should so hate for that to happen, as I haven't any handkerchiefs about the place, and it does get dreadfully damp."

"No crying," Susan promises.

(The narration is sure X will manage to bravely battle back the tears somehow.)

"How are you, Francis?

"Have you met X before? She's a friend of Mama's, and she's here visiting."

"Oh? Neighboring royalty, is it? Or perhaps a knight-errant, though you look rather young and unarmored for that. I'm sure I left a book of protocol around here somewhere, bother all this mess."

He flaps his hand again, in the general direction of a vast, empty expanse of floor.

"There was a receiving line," X offers, after a long moment.

"On a dock. When we met."

As if that will help him.

She flicks a quick look in Susan's direction, as if to check that she is doing the right thing.

An upset Francis would not be pleasant for anyone. Least of all Francis, really.

Susan nods.

Yes, it's fine.

She thinks.

Occasionally, Francis gets upset over the weirdest things.

"Mama wants to know if there's anything you require," Susan says to Francis, pronouncing all the words Very Carefully.

A faint hint of tension leaks out of X's shoulders.

Susan knows Francis will. It will be okay.

"There are enough people visiting? Here."

X's question is also worded carefully.

The ghost's air of waiting to be kicked makes X a little worried.

For him.

Edited 2012-09-18 02:08 (UTC)

"Hmm? Susan. Oh, yes. You're far too kind."

He looks at X's face for a second, nervously rubbing his hands at the same time.

"Both of you, really. Everyone here is so kind, even when I terrify them. Oh, I hope I terrify them. It's what a haunting is supposed to do, isn't it? But it would be nice to have some books. Or maybe a painting? A painting would be just the thing. Horses are ever so much nicer when hung up on a wall and unable to kick. Don't you think so?"

"They probably try to kick you because you scare them," Susan says.

You see what she did there?

"But I'll ask Mama if we have any extra paintings of horses.

"And if we don't, I'll make one for you."

It will even look kind of sort of like a horse!

"Susan is very good at drawing," X offers.

"She is also good at hosting tea parties."

Though, if ghosts cannot drink --

"If that is not problematic."

"Is that why?"

The ghost's eyes get wide with indignation.

"I knew it. Those creatures are fiends, I tell you. Fiends. Especially when they're made of clockwork. All that clacking, night and night and night."

He sighs, wringing his hands again.

"Oh, I do miss tea. Do you brew it yourself, Susan? Is it Lady? Or Princess? Or my lady Princess? I am so terribly out of practice. It's very upsetting."

"I'm not allowed to use the stove yet," Susan says. "But the palace kitchens make very good tea."

And Susan serves with great style.

"And it's Princess, but you may call me 'Susan,'" she adds, graciously.

"Because we're friends.

"X calls me 'Susan,' too."

"It's been so long since I have had friends. It's nice to be reminded."

He even looks happy for a second, not least because he is entertaining the idea of drinking actual tea.

Then he shakes his head, pacing back and forth a few times.

"Are you sure it's proper, Susan? Only I've heard bad things about ex-soldiers. They're hardly proper company for a lady of your station."

And tender years, of course, but it is not entirely clear that Francis has noticed that.

"It is my name," X says, after a moment of silence.

And then, because clarification can only help with Susan's incorporeal friend --

"X is my name."

Even if she is not really a Comtesse.

Susan smiles encouragingly at Francis.

"I think you're a little confused. But it's okay. Everyone is a little confused sometimes."

Except maybe Norman.

Or Papa.

"Really? Only I've found that most people around me tend to be very certain of what they want. Are you absolutely certain you're confused sometimes? Maybe we're talking about different things. And it is easier with only one choice. Hmm. Something to think about."

He starts again, as if he just remembered that he was not alone.

"Were you here looking for tea? Only I thought we were talking about tea. Did I let it go cold, do you know?"

"People are confusing," X says.

It is like agreement.

And in that vein --

"We did not bring any tea."

"It's not time for tea, anyway," Susan says. "So it's all right that there isn't any."

Francis doesn't need to worry.

"And X is right. People are very confusing."

She considers him for a moment.

"Maybe you need a cat."

He's probably too much on his own.

"There are mousers," X says.

It is likely that she pays attention, plus she likes cats.

"In the stables. I do not know if any of them have fleas."

"Oh dear me, are there mice in this tower? I can feel them running over my feet! I can -- Oh. Oh, silly me, no. There's nothing there. But I could have sworn -- "

Francis shakes his head, pacing between X and Susan like someone who has made pacing a competitive sport.

"A cat, you said? Are you certain your Royal Mama would allow it? Only company would be nice. Except would I have to feed it? Forget my own head if it wasn't -- attached. That's what mother always said. Or did she? I can't quite remember."

"I will ask Mama," Susan says, decidedly. "And I'll help you remember to feed it. Maybe we can get one of the pages to help, too."

That's what pages are for, right?

"He'd have to be very brave, because of the haunting, but we must have at least one who is very brave."

They want to be knights, after all. Knights are supposed to be brave.

"Then you wouldn't have to worry about mice in the tower. The cat could catch them."

"I like cats," X offers, matter-of-factly.

"I have two."

Beat.

"And my apartment does not have mice."

It's like an endorsement, of sorts.

(And she certainly plans to help choose the page who will aid in keeping the cat fed. Just in case.)

"A page?"

Here the ghost looks taken aback, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

"Are you sure they wouldn't be too afraid to come here? Only I feel as if they should be. Am I not doing my job?"

And now Francis is back to distraught.

"I did so hope to make the Queen pleased with my performance. Though perhaps it's better if they are not too terrified. It speeds up the errand running. Or at least it did for me. Not that I was a page, you understand. But I did get asked to pass messages back and forth."

Here he frowns.

"Or was that someone else? Oh, bother."

"That is why we shall pick a very, very brave one. It will be like a test. Of bravery. For him."

Because sometimes, you really do have to spell things out for Francis.

"It could be a test of bravery. For several."

Having dealt with children in the approximate page age-range, X is fairly certain that visiting the ghost in the tower will eventually be a way to prove one's mettle.

Children are predictable that way.

"That way they will not have to sneak. Up here."

"Oh, but. But surely they won't all come at once."

He wrings his hands again.

"And here I go again. Oh, I don't want to be a burden."

"Don't worry," Susan says soothingly.

"We'll take care of it.

"It'll be fine."

"Yes," X agrees.

"And then you will have company."

Beat.

"It will be -- "

It takes her a moment to find the appropriate innocuous word.

" -- good."

"Well, if you're sure."

He might not mean to give them a beseeching look, but that is what happens.

Company really would be lovely.

And anything he does not have to arrange himself is probably for the best.

"But that doesn't mean you'll stop visiting me, does it? Only you're lovely company. When you can be spared, of course. From your -- do you have duties?"

"Of course," Susan says. "I'm the Princess Royal."

She hears a lot about duty, so she must have some.

"But I make time for my friends. Just like Mama.

"We'll visit," she says, blithely committing X to this course.

. . . X doesn't mind, right?

"Yes," X agrees, hard on the heels of Susan's comment.

"We will."

Maybe X will even learn how to successfully feign fear when she is not on a mission.

Eventually.

Probably not.

"Oh good."

Francis sounds unutterably relieved.

And then, somewhat stymied for what to do next, he gets back to pacing.

At least he seems somewhat less frenetic, this time?

"I think it is time for tea now," Susan says grandly.

"X and I will send for it."

"I do not think it will take long," X confirms.

And maybe, in deference to Francis' incorporeality, they can forgo the feather boas.

This time.

"Oh, that will be lovely," Francis says, clasping his hand together in what, for him, are paroxysms of joy.

He has missed tea, so very much.

And maybe they will let him keep the cup and saucer for a while.

It will be a comfort.

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