rendez-vous + APPOINTMENT POST

[tearmeanewone]

[This is an appointment post for Elizabeth at luceti.]

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Comments

[quantumgrammar]

Precisely.

[If Elizabeth is expecting shock or disapproval, she is bound for disappointment, as Rosalind only favours a few items with an extra second's glance that is, if anything, a little approving. But she settles upon a more functional than decorative outfit and lays it out, going last in search of shoes that won't be a terror to stand and move in.]

To that end, I thought it might behove the both of us to prepare ourselves for the, if not inevitable, at least highly probable. [There they are, sensible boots and a suitably short corset, set down at the foot of the bed with the rest of the outfit.] And it has been quite some time since I handled a firearm.

[tearmeanewone]

Handled-- as in fired one? [Elizabeth looks shocked for a moment, then realizes this is Rosalind she's talking to. Learning that Rosalind did anything shouldn't be a surprise anymore. If Rosalind announced tomorrow that she was off to ride tigers, Elizabeth shouldn't be surprised.]

[She takes a bite of the croissant.]

Does Booker know you want to teach me how to fire a gun instead of how to throw them around? [She'd read up on them, of course. What ammunition went in which gun, their purposes and so forth. But practical applications? Never.]

[quantumgrammar]

[Rosalind simply lifts an eyebrow, waiting for Elizabeth to finish before she answers.]

I fear he might interpret my informing him of my plans as a request for his permission, which I neither expect nor desire. As for the thing itself . . .

[She crosses back to Elizabeth and lifts her own cup from the table, cradling it in her hands.]

Imagine being no older than you are now, and resolving to cross the Atlantic to ally yourself with a charismatic and deeply religious nationalist. Imagine then the preparations one might make for the months and years ahead. Remember Comstock was a military man, and many of his supporters cut from a similar cloth. I could no more hold their respect while ignorant of the operation of a revolver, I imagined, than anyone might hold mine while ignorant of the operation of a pen.

[tearmeanewone]

[Oops. Right. Chew, swallow, speak. Elizabeth assumes an expression of being properly chastised by the eyebrow raise while she listens. There is a smile, of course, when the image of Booker being asked permission by Rosalind comes into her head.]

Might've saved us some trouble if you'd just shot him anyway. [She snorts quietly and picks up her mug.] But I guess I would do the same thing.

[Though Elizabeth silently thinks that 'operation of a pen' wouldn't garner Rosalind's respect in the slightest. That was probably fairly low on the list of hurdles one had to jump to earn Rosalind Lutece's respect, in Elizabeth's opinion.]

I've never even read anything about these drafts. Is everybody really expected to use a firearm? [For some people in the village, it's a hard image to reconcile.]

[quantumgrammar]

Knowing the nature of former drafts and the general demographics of the populace, I imagine a provision will be made for the less martial members of the village. Support personnel are a necessity in most endeavours, and not all are suited to be put into harm's way.

However, relying upon that stability of that system seems foolish. We are not always as safe as we imagine.

[There's a subtle weight behind those words, and with good reason. Of any of the things that might trouble her about her and Robert's murder, that it was in their very home is still the most galling.]

[tearmeanewone]

That's true... [Elizabeth knows that from her dealings with the Iron Eye. Everything could go straight to hell in a matter of moments.]

So what do you think I should carry? A pistol? A handcannon?

Oh! What about a shotgun? [Those had always seemed very effective.]

[quantumgrammar]

[There's a moment there where Rosalind looks almost bemused. Almost.]

Oh, I don't know. Which do you feel you are most proficient with?

[tearmeanewone]

I don't know, I've never fired a gun before. [Elizabeth sips her tea thoughtfully.] I don't even know if I could cock a shotgun, it seems like it requires the kind of arm-strength I don't have.

[quantumgrammar]

If only there were some study which might demystify that enigma for us. Some activity, perhaps.

[Sip. Look. The cart goes behind the horse, Elizabeth.]

One which might be pursued more agreeably after donning clothing, even.

[tearmeanewone]

[Elizabeth looks up from tearing the longest section off her croissant, struggling to get it all in her mouth.]

That's a hint, I suppose?

[quantumgrammar]

To be any clearer I might require the use of a block of stone and a chisel.

[Well, the girl does seem to be enjoying her breakfast and lie-in. Best to leave her to that, and she steps out the door with a backwards call.]

I'll be in my rooms when you are ready. Do try not to tarry.