20-04-2019, 09:48 PM
A Little Night Music Ch. 21
"I can see her lookin' fast in her faded jeans.
She's a hard-lovin' woman, got me feelin' mean.
Sometimes, I think it's a shame,
when I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losin' again.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin' round my back stair.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin' round my back stair.
Sometimes, I think it's a sin,
when I feel like I'm winning, and I'm losing again."
-Gordon Lightfoot, "Sundown"
Susan Bailey explored a bit more to kill time before entering the Grand Ballroom of Castle Finzione about an hour later. Wikipedia had stated that construction on the Grand Ballroom began in 1658; however, the security officer tape around about a quarter of the room was almost certainly a more recent addition.
"Mademoiselle Bailey," One of La Policia's officers, who were guarding the cordoned-off portion of the large room that had been designated the crime scene, said when she entered. "La Contessa is waiting for you on the patio." He pointed to one of the sets of French doors at the other end of the room.
"Thanks," Susan said, having never been called Mademoiselle before that moment. She thought she recognized the officer. "Hey, weren't you at the motel a couple days ago?"
"Oui." The officer said, with a smile. "I heard your conversation with Le Prefect. I was telling the other officers about it."
He turned to the other officers, gave Susan a pat on the shoulder that would have made her uncomfortable, if the intent hadn't been so obviously friendly; and said something to the other security officermen in French. Susan gathered from her name and their applause that the message was "This is that woman I was just telling you about, the one who got in the Prefect's face."
Her time in San Finzione was teaching her the value of learning a second language. Susan had concluded that Klingon might not have been the best choice for hers, and that she should learn a third. Troy had told her that Italian would be the most useful for getting around San Finzione, as that was the primary of the four official languages of the country. Most citizens spoke at least one of the other three, as well; English, Spanish, or French. He'd said the tourism brochures often boasted "if the person you're talking to can't help you, the person next to them probably can".
Troy also pointed out that with Helen's gift for languages, she would be an excellent teacher, and probably happy to help. The conversation she was about to walk into would determine that possibility.
She looked over at the spot where outlines in tape showed where Helen and the assassin's bodies fell. Susan felt a little chill as she crossed the Grand Ballroom to the patio and stepped out onto it.
Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in her wheelchair on the patio, looked at the garden below, and smoked. She heard the French doors behind her open, turned her head, and her shoulder made her instantly regret it. She winced and turned the chair around instead, to face Susan. Susan determined by the butts already in the ash tray that she hadn't needed as much time to clean up and change as she'd estimated, and Helen had been waiting out here a while.
"Weird choice for a place to talk," said Susan. "Having to go right by where that happened a few days ago."
"I couldn't avoid it forever." Helen responded, putting out her cigarette. "The last time they were here, Julie and I talked out on this patio. Things that needed to be said got said, and we... well, we're where we are today as a result. I'm hoping that maybe, this turns out to be a lucky spot."
Susan nodded her understanding. Helen wheeled over to the table with the two chairs where she and Julie sat and moved the chair in her spot aside to wheel up to the table. She gestured to the tray on the table.
"I wasn't sure what you drink," Helen explained. "So, Jeanne made tea."
"That sounds nice," Susan replied, and sat down. Since Helen was operating with one hand, Susan poured her a cup before her own. "Here ya go..." Susan had to stop herself before she added the "hon" and "anything else for you, sweetie," and sat back down, slightly flushed.
"Hey," Helen said with a tiny smile as she took out another cigarette. "If anyone understands old habits."
She put it in her mouth, and as she was bringing the lighter up to it, stopped herself. Helen took the cigarette out of her mouth and made a "do you mind" gesture to Susan. Her response was a mixture of a turn of her head and a shrug, so Helen nodded and resumed lighting it.
A few seconds of silence passed as Helen smoked and Susan sipped before Helen spoke again.
"I should be the one to start. I hope that I haven't already said it so much that it comes off as a line; however, it feels like the best place to begin. I am deeply sorry and thoroughly regret what I did and how I treated you, Susan. Not knowing what you'd been through before excuses nothing. You didn't deserve it, and it is entirely my fault."
Susan listened while she drank, then set her cup down.
"And I sincerely thank you, Helen. I must admit, it did feel like a line the first time, and that has certainly colored things. The video you made helped me see that. You were right about the poor choice of words."
Helen nodded in response, took a puff of her cigarette, then set it in an ash tray so she could pick up her own cup and take a drink.
"I really should have known better. Someday, I may tell just how much."
"In all fairness," Susan told her. "Troy and Julie hadn't told me a lot about you before we met. And the things they had to say... weren't bad, but certainly not good. I didn't even know your name until that moment, just that there was 'someone else out there who can Do What We Do.'"
"I can see her lookin' fast in her faded jeans.
She's a hard-lovin' woman, got me feelin' mean.
Sometimes, I think it's a shame,
when I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losin' again.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin' round my back stair.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin' round my back stair.
Sometimes, I think it's a sin,
when I feel like I'm winning, and I'm losing again."
-Gordon Lightfoot, "Sundown"
Susan Bailey explored a bit more to kill time before entering the Grand Ballroom of Castle Finzione about an hour later. Wikipedia had stated that construction on the Grand Ballroom began in 1658; however, the security officer tape around about a quarter of the room was almost certainly a more recent addition.
"Mademoiselle Bailey," One of La Policia's officers, who were guarding the cordoned-off portion of the large room that had been designated the crime scene, said when she entered. "La Contessa is waiting for you on the patio." He pointed to one of the sets of French doors at the other end of the room.
"Thanks," Susan said, having never been called Mademoiselle before that moment. She thought she recognized the officer. "Hey, weren't you at the motel a couple days ago?"
"Oui." The officer said, with a smile. "I heard your conversation with Le Prefect. I was telling the other officers about it."
He turned to the other officers, gave Susan a pat on the shoulder that would have made her uncomfortable, if the intent hadn't been so obviously friendly; and said something to the other security officermen in French. Susan gathered from her name and their applause that the message was "This is that woman I was just telling you about, the one who got in the Prefect's face."
Her time in San Finzione was teaching her the value of learning a second language. Susan had concluded that Klingon might not have been the best choice for hers, and that she should learn a third. Troy had told her that Italian would be the most useful for getting around San Finzione, as that was the primary of the four official languages of the country. Most citizens spoke at least one of the other three, as well; English, Spanish, or French. He'd said the tourism brochures often boasted "if the person you're talking to can't help you, the person next to them probably can".
Troy also pointed out that with Helen's gift for languages, she would be an excellent teacher, and probably happy to help. The conversation she was about to walk into would determine that possibility.
She looked over at the spot where outlines in tape showed where Helen and the assassin's bodies fell. Susan felt a little chill as she crossed the Grand Ballroom to the patio and stepped out onto it.
Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in her wheelchair on the patio, looked at the garden below, and smoked. She heard the French doors behind her open, turned her head, and her shoulder made her instantly regret it. She winced and turned the chair around instead, to face Susan. Susan determined by the butts already in the ash tray that she hadn't needed as much time to clean up and change as she'd estimated, and Helen had been waiting out here a while.
"Weird choice for a place to talk," said Susan. "Having to go right by where that happened a few days ago."
"I couldn't avoid it forever." Helen responded, putting out her cigarette. "The last time they were here, Julie and I talked out on this patio. Things that needed to be said got said, and we... well, we're where we are today as a result. I'm hoping that maybe, this turns out to be a lucky spot."
Susan nodded her understanding. Helen wheeled over to the table with the two chairs where she and Julie sat and moved the chair in her spot aside to wheel up to the table. She gestured to the tray on the table.
"I wasn't sure what you drink," Helen explained. "So, Jeanne made tea."
"That sounds nice," Susan replied, and sat down. Since Helen was operating with one hand, Susan poured her a cup before her own. "Here ya go..." Susan had to stop herself before she added the "hon" and "anything else for you, sweetie," and sat back down, slightly flushed.
"Hey," Helen said with a tiny smile as she took out another cigarette. "If anyone understands old habits."
She put it in her mouth, and as she was bringing the lighter up to it, stopped herself. Helen took the cigarette out of her mouth and made a "do you mind" gesture to Susan. Her response was a mixture of a turn of her head and a shrug, so Helen nodded and resumed lighting it.
A few seconds of silence passed as Helen smoked and Susan sipped before Helen spoke again.
"I should be the one to start. I hope that I haven't already said it so much that it comes off as a line; however, it feels like the best place to begin. I am deeply sorry and thoroughly regret what I did and how I treated you, Susan. Not knowing what you'd been through before excuses nothing. You didn't deserve it, and it is entirely my fault."
Susan listened while she drank, then set her cup down.
"And I sincerely thank you, Helen. I must admit, it did feel like a line the first time, and that has certainly colored things. The video you made helped me see that. You were right about the poor choice of words."
Helen nodded in response, took a puff of her cigarette, then set it in an ash tray so she could pick up her own cup and take a drink.
"I really should have known better. Someday, I may tell just how much."
"In all fairness," Susan told her. "Troy and Julie hadn't told me a lot about you before we met. And the things they had to say... weren't bad, but certainly not good. I didn't even know your name until that moment, just that there was 'someone else out there who can Do What We Do.'"
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