Second Stanza: [ACTION/WRITTEN/VOICE]

[burns_so_brightly]

[Sitting in the tea shop, Julian Bell is looking restless, his tea untouched and growing cold. He chews the end of his pen as his journal lies open on the table before him. All at once, he starts writing furiously.]

Expose the world, anatomize,
Strip clothes from skin, strip skin, then flesh, from bone.
Himself no surgeon, true, can sterilize,
But yet the self-infection can be shown.
Corrode and doubt; anesthetize the heart;
Morphia or curiosity drown the reviving smart.

Clear as white water in the stream we see
Shadowed the species of eternity;
The working process, self a working part:
For not one necessary fiction's grace
Can quite make mask th' observer's outward face,
Or thought one extra atom's movement start.

The moving pointer tells, and having told
Not the immediacy of hot and cold,
Nor yet the pale abstraction of a mind
(For algebra and instruments record
No immanent emergence of the Word.)
Tells solid, painful foothold all we find.

Why turn, why seek, why question for an end?
Why hope? Time flows: shows useless to defend
A cosy corner in the rising flood.
The tide is coming in: the dykes are down:
War, Terror, Poverty, swing through the town,
And the cold wind claims to be understood.

[It feels like it's been too long since he wrote. He's trying to get the juices going again, but this lazy, mind-numbing monotony of Luceti life is making it hard, so he started with something he's already written. Heck, maybe someone will give him feedback and he can better it. Some ten or fifteen minutes later, he picks up the journal and speaks.]

I think we should have a philosophy club here, or some such thing. Nothing exclusive, just a few inquisitive minds wanting intellectual stimulation. Mondays at eight in the tea shop. Any biters?

[OOC: Feel free to run into him around town as well as at the tea shop. He'll be getting groceries and checking out the library, and tonight, he'll be at Cloud Nine.

Also: the above poem was written by the actual Julian Bell and not me.  No profit made from it.]

Comments

[burns_so_brightly]

Nothing wrong with tweed. Oh--I mentioned setting my ex up. I might need your help with that, since I was serious. It's almost a point of honor now.

/EDITS TO MAKE THIS MORE AWKWARD BECAUSE ACTUALLY....

[herotypical]

O-oh. [ she digs in to this topic. eager. ]

What's her type? There are plenty of eligible bachelors around.

[ so many misunderstandings. ]

/LAWL That's more like it.

[burns_so_brightly]

[He laughs. Harder than usual.]

Well...it's good about the bachelors, but...his type is a bit nebulous, I'm afraid.

tagging + homework = ABSENT MINDEDNESS

[herotypical]

Oh. [ a beat. ] Oh. He's a he. And you're...oh.

[ wait wait wait. julian's ex is a he and julian had just asked her out on a date and... ]

Oh my God, I don't look manly do I? I know I'm not the most buxom of ladies but...

Re: tagging + homework = ABSENT MINDEDNESS

[burns_so_brightly]

[Now he's laughing hard again.]

No, god no! No, I like it when women look like women. I just...I also like it when men look like men. It's Anthony, in case you were wondering. That's not...a problem, is it?

[He figured Buffy was open-minded enough not to judge him for this, but he could be wrong? No, he doesn't think so.]

[herotypical]

...Oh, thank God. [ she presses her palms against her face. embarrassed. ] For a moment, I thought -- well, it kinda painfully obvious what I thought.

Anthony. O-okay. I've met Anthony. Aaaand, God. No. That is the furthest thing from a problem. I'm the one who's stepping on toes here. Y'know, assuming.

[burns_so_brightly]

[A relieved chuckle.] It's all right. It's an assumption either way, isn't it?

[herotypical]

And you know what they say about assuming things, right?

[burns_so_brightly]

What do they say about assuming things?

[herotypical]

...It makes an ass of you and me.

[burns_so_brightly]

[A chuckle.] So it does. God, you're so American.

[herotypical]

Huh. I have a little bit of linguistic fun and it makes me "so American"?

[ air quotes and all. ]

[burns_so_brightly]

No, you just...you said "ass."

[herotypical]

[ a surprisingly unfettered laugh. ]

...That's 'cause the word isn't 'arse-ume'.

[burns_so_brightly]

You don't say the R, it tells you how to pronounce the A, and provides a subtle distraction during a conversation where my pride is at stake.

[herotypical]

I like how your version of subtle apparently involves criticizing my speech. Very smooth, Jules.

[ all in good fun. ]

[burns_so_brightly]

Not my version. Yours. You haven't said a thing about prospects for Anthony.

[herotypical]

And you haven't shed any light on his type! Unless I should just be studying you. In which case -- maybe his type is smartasses.

Sorry. Smartarses.

[burns_so_brightly]

[Awww, he's so sad you're exclusive.] See? You're learning. As for his type, ermmmmmm, at this point I think he'd settle for a good fuck with no strings. He doesn't usually do relationships.

[herotypical]

[ well you could always try bargaining with the pirate :| yeah that's a terrible idea.

buffy's cheeks seem to almost colour at this sudden frankness. she likes to pretend very much that she's a bit more of a prude than she really is. ]

W-well. I...I'm not exactly sure -- I'll have to have a look at my address book. Not to mention me being to totally unfamiliar, you see, with the stringless version of...things probably puts me at a disadvantage here. [ word salad. definite word salad. she's too busy being flustered to answer properly. ]

[burns_so_brightly]

[Sorry, Buffy, he forgot he wasn't talking to one of his old Cambridge fellows. A bashful laugh.]

Sorry. Erm. I think his tastes run similar to mine, where men are concerned. As long as he's a good-looking chap with good brains about him, I don't think you can go too wrong.

[herotypical]

Good looking and brainy. That's pretty common stock, around here. It'll be more a case of finding someone who also likes good-looking and brainy men. Y'see?

Because I'm assuming he's good-looking. I mean -- I'm assuming you have standards.

[burns_so_brightly]

Very good-looking. Tall, fair, very good shoulders and even better hands. Takes a bit to get him to smile, but it's striking when he does.

[herotypical]

...Hands, huh? [ a half-laugh. ] Alright. I'll put out my feelers. How old is he?

[burns_so_brightly]

[That takes Julian a second, and his face goes blank for a few heartbeats as he not only does the math, but it really hits him that there's a time gap. Then, that smile is back.]

Thirty-eight, but he looks a lot younger. You could tell someone he's my age.