Trooper Station, Friday

[pocketpretzels]

Following Miss Smith's food class, Watts headed to the station. As per usual, there wasn't a lot to be done besides paperwork ("You there. My writing is atrocious. You fill it out, and bring it to me to sign," he instructed... one of the Troopers. Couldn't remember the name.), so there he was, sitting on the corner of his desk, flipping through a Portugese phrasebook.

"Meu postilhão foi atingido por um raio," he murmured to himself. "Well. Some things haven't changed, it seems." He couldn't help but recall the conversation he'd held with Jack, a lifetime ago it felt like now, where he'd suggested they sail to Portugal together. And for the first time in a long time, there was no aching emptiness as he did so.

Some things, on the other hand, certainly had changed.

[ooc: open! though will be SP in the afternoon as I am dragged off to an In Person Work Function. again.]

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

"I'd love to see your home sometime if you'd like to show it," Steven said. He wasn't unaware of cultural issues. To say nothing of details like clothing. Which had him lost for a moment as he wondered if his suit might look different if he summoned it in the past. Which then had him thinking of other advantages of time differences. "Oh and traveling in your year. Think of going to Egypt and... well all right the Victorians had already ruined plenty of things by then. Per usual. But still! Pristine dig sites!"

Steven realized he was getting slightly off topic so he added, shyly, "You could visit my home as well if you wanted. London or somewhere else. Still have the old flat in London though."

With the one bed in it. Oops.

[pocketpretzels]

“I’d like that very much,” Watts said. “Traveling to London with you. Or anywhere. Any… when. The ‘with you’ is the important part.”

[hasaknightjob]

Oh look, Steven's smile could get brighter. "I'd like that. Just have to do both then, won't we? Can't have either of our homes feeling like we left one out over the other. Absolutely awful when a time period starts feeling neglected."

[pocketpretzels]

“Hm. Yes. I’ve heard as much.”

He absolutely had not.

[hasaknightjob]

"Hmm, no, it's awful," Steven said, completely and utterly seriously, please ignore the twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. "They get downright melancholy. That's where rain comes form, you see. The crying."

[pocketpretzels]

See, Steven, you just had to keep your jokes so utterly ridiculous that even Detective Takes-Things-Too-Literally over here could pick up on them.

"Which in turn makes it harder to sight-see," Watts mused. Although the mental image of sharing an umbrella with Steven was not entirely unappealing.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven was simply happy that Llewellyn was willing to play along. Normally he was alone on his flights of fancy, since even Marc wasn't interested in them one way or the other.

"Suppose it depends on what you're looking at," Steven pointed out. His gaze lingered on Llewellyn a little too long before he continued. "You know, on that we still need to go to the museums. And get you your pretzels."

[pocketpretzels]

"We do, at that," Watts agreed. Particularly since his last pretzel was now in the hands (or possibly stomach by this point) of a distraught young woman. That that distraught young woman happened to be a dear friend of Steven's was... not lost on him, no. "How about this weekend?" he asked. "Are you busy? Or is Marc?"

[hasaknightjob]

Steven smiled with gratitude at Llewellyn thinking to ask if Marc had plans. "I'm free. And Marc's sulking and claiming I've made him do enough with people today so doubt he's got anything in mind."

[pocketpretzels]

Despite Mr. Spector's (incorrect) assumptions about what sort of social life he deserved, Watts was always going to take that into consideration when making plans with Steven.

"Then this weekend it shall be," he decided.

[hasaknightjob]

And such respect and thoughtfulness was one of the reasons Steven was... rather fond of Llewellyn.

"It's a date," Steven said, just so it was clear. After all, when they'd first made these plans things between them had been a bit different. "Museums, pretzels, should I be looking up restaurants as well or would you like street food the entire time? I'm good for either."

[pocketpretzels]

Judging from the way Watts beamed back at him at the words 'it's a date', there was no shortage of... fondness, on his end either.

"I hadn't considered that," he admitted.

[hasaknightjob]

"Any food in particular you've been hoping to try?" Steven asked. "There'll be more options there than on the island. International and the like. Might be worth taking advantage of."

[pocketpretzels]

"One of the constables back home became quite enamored of Korean food when he had the opportunity to try it," Watts shared. Yes, it had been conjunction with that whole international spy incident, why do you ask?

[hasaknightjob]

"Oh that's a good one. We'll put that on the list. I haven't had Korean in ages it feels like." Of course with Steven's memory that could mean anything.

"List might not be a bad idea, actually," Steven said, once he thought about it. "Put down all the foods you haven't tried and we can tick them off one by one. Get your Portuguese on there if you like. Proper curry at some point. Guatemalan, obviously."

Steven took a bite of his burrito, figuring the point was made.

[pocketpretzels]

"A list?" Watts mused. "How's your handwriting?"

[hasaknightjob]

"Haven't had any complaints?" Steven replied. He wasn't sure how else one would judge.

[pocketpretzels]

"Well, that makes one of us."

Think fast, Steven, because Watts was pulling his notepad out from his jacket pocket and tossing it your way.

On the one hand, he'd finally compiled all the suggestions people had given him regarding things to check out into said notepad. On the other... they were still very much loose scraps of paper with barely-legible scribbles. Just tucked inside the notepad now.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven fumbled the catch but in his defense he was still holding his burrito. He put it back into the container on Llewellyn's desk, wiped his hands on a napkin, then picked the notepad up from where it'd fallen to the floor. Luckily the notepad had remained closed, so the scraps of paper stayed inside of it and not scattered about the room.

"I'm to write all this down, I take it?" Steven asked. He didn't mind. He was more confirming Llewellyn didn't mind him seeing what was already on the pages as he found his way to a blank one.

[pocketpretzels]

He probably ought to have qualms regarding someone outside the Constabulary seeing his notepad, which did include notes taken while investigating. But, well. This was Steven and from his perspective those cases had been closed over a hundred years ago and a universe to the left besides.

That was, of course, assuming Steven could even make out any of the details.

"I've been told my handwriting's atrocious," he said. "So if you want any chance of being able to read this list down the line, it's for the best."

[hasaknightjob]

Could someone argue that Llewellyn had a mobile for such things? Of course. But if Llewellyn preferred things hand written then there was nothing wrong with it.

"Right. Serious business then, isn't it? Can't let anything go missing." Steven flashed Llewellyn a grin, then patted down his shirt pockets until he found his glasses (one of many pairs he kept handy). Granted putting them on didn't make it significantly easier to decipher Llewellyn's handwriting as Steven flipped through to a blank page. Though when one of the words was "Newsomimico" it was rather hard to determine if one was reading it correctly or not. "I'll need to borrow a biro. Don't have one on me, I'm afraid."

[pocketpretzels]

“Hm. A what?” Watts asked, his tone a mix of distracted and confused. Distracted because Steven in those glasses looked awfully cute and confused because he had no idea what a bird would be.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven was oblivious to the first problem as he'd legitimately never been told he looked cute in glasses. Or, as always, not that he could remember. Instead he gave Llewellyn an apologetic look over the rims of said glasses for once again using an unfamiliar term. "Right, sorry. A pen? Something to write with?"

[pocketpretzels]

It was a very good look, and Watts was trying to formulate a way of saying as much.

As for the pen.. through the magic of Fandom, when Watts had taken over the sheriff’s position, more modern writing utensils had been replaced by those with which he was familiar: thus, he had a desk full of pencils and fountain pens, not a ballpoint to be found.

The desktop computer had remained untouched by Fandom’s whimsy, but that was neither here nor there.

“Here,” he fished one of those fountain pens out from the desk drawer, handing it over.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven had been expecting a ball point so he had a moment of surprise when Llewellyn gave him something different. Though what Steven assumed was Llewellyn's preference made sense when Steven thought about it.

"Today I am a fountain pen," Steven said, throwing the traditional Jewish joke out there without thinking about it. He hadn't practiced in a while so he tested the pen out on the back of the previous piece of paper before starting the list on a fresh sheet. He had to write more slowly and carefully than he would've with a regular pen, but he managed it.