the_last_resort | (no subject)

Bertie rushed in and slammed the door behind him. He leaned back against it, breathing hard.

Blink.

Frown.

Wait just a moment. This wasn’t his room. He must have got turned around somewhere.

As much as he wanted to work on his arts and crafts project in the lobby, Wander soon realized that taking up space with his pile of aluminum foil, tape, glue, tissue paper, beads, string, construction paper, scissors, and a large green hat would be too troublesome for the other guests, so he opted to staying in his room for today. After hearing the news about the neuralflu, he immediately set to buying a roll of foil to make a small tinfoil hat for himself and for any potential guests that would need one. Of course, he couldn't resist the temptation of decorating it, and spent what few emeralds he had left for hat beautification purposes.

...At least he could now give out pretty tinfoil hats instead of those plain grey ones.

He was in the middle of folding paper roses when he heard his door open and slam shut, startling him to tear a yellow slip in half. Even though he unlocked his door as an open invitation for others to meet him, he would have appreciated if they had knocked, but a potential friend is a potential friend even if they needed a lesson in politeness. He stood up from his spot on the floor behind the bed, his head and tinfoil hat (colored green with a thick, rounded five-pointed star attached to it) barely visible to anyone standing at the door.

"Hi! I'll be right there inna moment." He walked around the bed to get a better view of the guest.

Bertie peered at the...man(?) for a long time, shook his head, and peered some more. He'd only had one drink so far today, otherwise he'd wonder if he were hallucinating.

"I say!"

More peering.

"I say!"

Aunt Agatha would be appalled by his manners, but he couldn't think of a dashed thing to say beyond his "I says."

It was definitely a member of the human species that were surprisingly common here, and the tallest one he'd seen so far. He would bet that this one could easily stare down a Zbornak even if it was standing on its hind legs.

Not like this fellow could successfully intimidate Sylvia with that shocked expression.

"Sorry for the mess," Wander smiled, indicating at the strewn bits of string covering the floor. "Didn't 'spect anyone to come here."

He spoke in a soft voice with an accent that most humans from Earth considered to originate from the southern region of the United States, though he met a few that pinpointed it to some place Wander never even heard of. The communicators seemed to make interesting translating choices.

"I gotta chair right over here that's big enough for you to sit on, if y'like." He lifted an arm out towards an ornate wooden chair that came standard with the rooms by the dresser. "We can have our introductions once we're both comfy, right?"

Bertie thought the man was awfully small. And orange. And a dashed peculiar configuration in every way. Still, it would be rude to mention it, so Bertie swallowed his questions, even though he was buzzing with curiosity, and took the offered chair like a proper gentleman.

"How do you do. I'm Bertram Wooster."

"Pleasure to meetcha, Mister Wooster. Name's Wander, and I am so glad for you to stop by."

In a more typical setting for him, Wander would offer Bertram some food cooking over the fire, but unfortunately, there weren't many places to safely build a cooking fire unless he traveled far from the town. Fortunately, the resort supplied water heaters and a pitiful number of tea bags among the basic amenities.

"Sir, would some tea be alright? Got some sugar if you like it real sweet!" He picked up a basket with more sugar bags than what most people put in their drinks, but there was nothing wrong with having extra supplies in his opinion.

"There's only two kinds though: peach and chamomile. Which will it be?"

"I didn't know tea came in multiple kinds." Usually Jeeves took care of the tea-making business. Bertie merely drank the results with no knowledge of how the beverage came to be. "Peach then." Only because he wasn't certain what chamomile was, but thought it sounded like a kind of grain--like cornmeal or wheatmeal--and that didn't sound like a thing that ought be in tea.

"Thank you, Mister Wander. I say, are you from America? Do you know Rocky Todd? He lives in America."

Wander set out a cup and saucer as he boiled the water. "Really? There's all different kinds of tea!" He walked to his spot behind the bed and returned a large green hat, rummaging through its crown. "You should try other flavors when you're here." He pulled out a small doily with embroidered flowers. "There you go!" And placed it underneath the saucer.

America...he heard that somewhere before. Some of the other humans mentioned it around him; maybe it was a major planet in their system? "Sorry Mister Wooster, I've never been to America, so I never met this Rocky Todd feller."

"Multiple kinds of tea...I learn something new every day, even without Jeeves around to drop tidbits of obscure erudition into the conversation."

He blinked and cocked his head again at Wander retrieving the doily. Is that where doilies usually came from, he wondered? He would never look at Jeeves' bowler quite the same way again.

"Please, call me Bertie."

"Well then, Bertie," Wander pulled a stool next to him and climbed onto it. "We should go out to try other kinds of tea sometime, y'know, as a friendly get-together. I'm sure they gotta buncha teas an' things down in the shops!" He quietly hoped that Bertie wasn't completely broke like he was; it would be just rude to cancel an outing at the last minute because neither of them could pay.

"Is Rocky Todd a friend o' yours? 'Cause if we ever find ourselves near...America," he paused to check if he got the name correct, "we can stop by his place and say that his good pal Bertie sends his greetin's!"

"Rocky's an old chum. He's a literary sort, a poet of some note, I believe." Bertie didn't follow poetry much, and didn't know that Rocky was, in fact, a notably bad poet.

"Trying out the variety of teas sounds like a corking idea." Money was not something Bertie had a problem with. And he was used to reaching into his pockets to pay for others less oofy as well.

"But...you said 'we' might send Rocky greetings from yours truly...is there another person here?" Bertie looked around, puzzled. Wander was rather small, so it was entirely possible that there was a second small orange person hidden somewhere in the room out of his sight.

"A poet?! Y'mean a lotta people getta read his writin'? I'm a bit of an artist myself, although I mostly just play the banjo.. but I'd love to meet 'im!"

He should remember to bring his banjo when they go out for tea. This poor human who probably never drank tea in his life was looking forward to that, right? He assumed that "corking" meant something good.

Wander's smile lessened when Bertie asked about another person. "Oh, right. There's no one else stayin' here with me, but most of the other times I travel 'round the galaxy with m'best friend. Shame that Syl couldn't make it."

"Rocky's a good chap and friendly. He would get you the shirt off his back, except he usually doesn't bother to put on shirt but rather loafs around in his pajamas at all hours. Drives Jeeves to vapours. If you ever do come across him, tell him that Bertram sends his regards and he will welcome you like an old chum."

He nodded at Wander's explanation of the mysterious "we."

"I usually travel with Jeeves, but he was otherwise engaged with a personal matter and couldn't travel with me. Is Syl your valet, too?"

Rocky sounded like a wonderful fellow, going out of his way to help others even if it meant a few personal sacrifices, something Wander could relate to. There was no doubt that they would make excellent friends!

Not as excellent, of course, as the relationship he had with his own best friend. "Actually, her name's Sylvia; Syl's just a nickname I call her. Usually I'd introduce y'all to each other but..." he shrugged and gave a small smile. "She' no valet, though, 'cept for the part where she carries me 'round everywhere, but that's no surprise considerin' she's a Zbornak. We're just real good friends that travel the galaxy together."

He glanced over to the water boiler and slid off the stool to prepare Bertie's tea. They said that he didn't have stay here for a long time, so Sylvia wouldn't get too lonely, he hoped. Still, Wander couldn't help but miss her a little.

"Pardon me, but what's a Zbornak? Is that a type of foreign servant?"

All this talk of Syl carrying Wander around put Bertie to mind of paintings of Oriental Sultans being trotted around on litters with lavish silk curtains on the backs of chaps in loincloths.

"Servant?! What?" Wander did his best to hide the hint of insult on his face. "No, I can never think of my best pal like that, and besides, Sylvia'd never accept bein' one!" How does he not know what a Zbornak even was? They're not an uncommon species in Wander's galaxy, and even people that never met one knew what they were.

Did...they not have those on any planets in the system Bertie was from?

"Pardon my bluntness," he carefully placed a tea bag into the cup, "but what kinda aliens you familiar with?"

"Jeeves is my best pal, and he's also my servant. He has a very strong feudal spirit, you see, gets offended at the very suggestion that a valet might call his gentleman by his first name and such."

The question of aliens got Bertie thinking.

"Well, there are the French. And the Germans of course. Oh, and Swedes, although I've never met one of those."

"Oooooooh..." Well, that explained it. "Seems like Jeeves 'n Sylvia are pretty different in that regard."

Wander never heard of any of any of those species Bertie mentioned, though. The possibility that he lived in another galaxy seemed more likely if they were familiar with different species.

He poured the hot water into Bertie's cup and set it beside him on the dresser, then placed the sugar packs right next to it and gave it a small pat.

"Never heard of the French and...the other ones. What're they like?"

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what_ho_jeeves - 2014-06-22 05:44 (UTC) - Expand

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folkscallmewander - 2014-06-22 20:01 (UTC) - Expand

[Boone looks up as soon as someone opens his door and slams it behind them. He's in a chair facing the door, his rifle in his hands and aimed at the intruder. Beside him on the floor, Rex has lifted his head and looks poised to get up and attack if Boone tells him to. Both cyberdog and sniper stare for a second, until Boone gets over the initial shock of someone bursting into his room and lowers the rifle again.]

You lost?

[He wonders why he's in such a hurry, but that question can wait. At the very least, from the look on this guy's face he can tell this was an accident.]

[Bertie's eyes go even wider at the sight of the gun. Usually people who have guns end up pointing them at him sooner or later, and firing at him as he desperately flees through the undergrowth in his formal evening dress only to stumble into the arms of an unwanted fiancee.

It's a very specific but common problem for him.

But then the man lowers his gun, and Bertie's terror eases somewhat.]

Indeed I am. I was running for my life and seem to have found myself in the incorrect hallway. Or perhaps the incorrect floor.

I say, could you be an aid to a fellow man in desperate need and allow me to hide here for a spot of time?

[Boone frowns, but holds a hand out to Rex to let him know it's okay.]

I guess.

[As part of security here now, he can't exactly tell the guy it's his own damn problem. He gets to his feet and heads over to Bertie, but it's the door he's focused on. His rifle is still in his hands.]

What're you running from? Did it see you come in here?

Well, it's like this, you see. One of those Cling-thingummy beazels started screaming at me, and when a filly is interested and thinks that you are too, you can't hurt her feelings by stating otherwise, even if she does have peculiar bumps on her forehead. Just as I was trying to think of some way to convince her that I am not the one for her, a mighty fist smote down upon the table. As it turns out, the Cling-filly is already engaged and her fiance had no interest in my explanations. And so I ran, and thus you see me here before you.

[So... pissed off alien. Not much he can do there. He has a feeling shooting it would only cause more trouble, especially if it's over a misunderstanding with a woman. He looks through the peephole, sees nothing, and heads back to his chair with a grunt.]

Better hope he doesn't remember you if you run into him again.

[Otherwise, this guy is gonna be doing a lot of running and hiding.]

Might wanna figure out how you're supposed to say no to those things, too.

[Preferably without offending them.]

"No" is such a difficult word. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, you see. [And hence is the root of Bertie's life as a doormat.] It's not the act of a preux chevalier, and Woosters must always be preux.

I've never found it all that difficult.

[He tilts his head with a clueless look at that, though. He has no idea what he's talking about now.]

The act of a what?

[Preux...? Jeez, it's almost like talking to Arcade.]

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Accidentally Running Into Your Character's Room to Hide

Re: Accidentally Running Into Your Character's Room to Hide

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