epidemiology | ( closed )

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CHARACTERS: olivia & keats

DATE: backdated to january 6

WARNINGS: extreme levels of awkward

SUMMARY: it's cool. they're totally cool. friends totally kiss then never speak to each other again save for letters attached to thoughtful presents. they're fine.

[ she's been leaving him food again. she's been a little worried, as she's wont to get, that he may not be eating as properly as he should, or that he's using too much of their tenuous allowance from alastair to purchase made meals. (he doesn't much look like the type to know what to do behind a stove, though she's careful to only think this and never say it out loud... since he also looks like the type to carry a bit of pride, heh.)

but her concern is genuine, and it isn't as if he's the only one she's been regularly feeding, if in this case "regular" means a least every other day.

granted, it isn't a lot, now that the weather has gotten a touch more severe, she isn't able to duck out into the trades district as often as she'd like to, so ingredients are in short supply these days. but she'll still leave him a roll of bread every now and then, or a few slices of a fruit bar, or, once, even a little pecan tart. today is going to be bread again — two, palm-sized sweet rolls with a bit of cheese melted within. these she's wrapped up in a cloth and attempts to leave at his doorstep again. she's always been very quiet while doing this, always choosing the right times just before he's expected to walk out of his room...

so, statistically, a mistake was bound to happen. ]

—ah-choo!

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[He's always had his suspicions that it was her. After all, who even cared enough to bring him food every day? He knew the reputation he had. He knew he stepped on people's toes and said things they didn't like, and that was fine with him. Somehow, Olivia hadn't seen that, if the Christmas gift was any indication.]

[After some time, he does his best to catch her, but by the time he opened his door, she was already gone. He'd been taking to opening it randomly, just to catch her in the act, and today, that sound certainly tells him that she hasn't left just yet. He opens the door as soon as he hears that sneeze.]

Aha! [He steps out, hands on his hips as if he's about to start scolding her, but there's a smirk on his face - he's obviously amused by the fact that he finally found his mysterious food deliverer. He isn't wearing his usual purple overcoat; instead, he's in his vest and collared shirt, green tie hanging untied around his neck.]

I had a feeling it was you. [A pause.] You have a bit of a cold, eh?

[ she flinches when she's caught, but he scolds her with in such good nature that she doesn't feel too bad for it. in fact, there is a sheepish grin on her face, the color on her cheeks simply present out of bashfulness.

or maybe a symptom of an illness, who knows. ]

Oh no no, it's probably just dust, [ she assures him dismissively, rising up from her crouch.

(she then proceeds to sniffle loudly.) ] I haven't been sick in years.

[ then again, she had good ol' nana's home remedies to keep her going.

anyway, it seemed silly to leave the bread by the door, she just offers them up for him to take. ]

You can eat dairy, right?

Dust. Right.

[He says, raising his eyebrow. Sure. He believes that.]

As far as I know, I'm not lactose-intolerant, no. [He takes the package with a short sigh.] Honestly, Olivia, you don't need to keep feeding me. It's not like I forget to do it.

[ her eyes widen slightly, and she looks on at him with utmost sincerity. ]

But you're so thin, [ she says in a hushed tone, as if he were breaking some big news to him.

a pause, and then a small giggle. ]

Or so my grandmother would say. [ she shakes her head a little, because how silly, keats, really. ] I know I don't need to give you food all the time, [ she concedes, in a far more serious tone. she glances at him briefly. shyly. ] Just like you don't need to keep eating it.

Me? Thin? [He lets out a short laugh at that - he knows very well he's not a stick when it comes to his weight.] On the contrary, I think I'd have to worrying about getting fat...

[Her question, though, makes him pause, and he tries to hide his own sheepish expression by untying the cloth and peering inside. Ooh. Sweet rolls.]

...Well, I'm not going to just waste it. [He covers the rolls with the cloth again.] Food is food.

I think you look great, [ comes the instinctive response, but olivia only seems to realize what she's said two seconds later and two seconds too late. her entire face suddenly colors, and rather hastily she blurts out: ]

H-How have they been, anyway? I've been trying some new recipes...!

[He blinks. The compliment is nice, but it doesn't quite sink in the way it does for Olivia, because he's almost never been complimented on his appearance. He just doesn't get it. (He will later, most likely.)]

[And oh boy, she's asking his opinion on her food. QUICK, HOW CAN HE SAY A COMPLIMENT WITHOUT ACTUALLY SAYING IT AT ALL]

...They keep me going throughout the day. Helps with staying awake long enough to write.

[NAILED IT.]

[ there is a long, long pause...

and then a sound of pure and utter relief. ]

Oh thank goodness! I was hoping all those extra grains and fruits would add a boost of energy.

[ APPARENTLY YOU DID, IN FACT, NAIL IT. ]

[MIRACLES REALLY DO HAPPEN.]

Yes. They did! They did. [WHAT ELSE DOES HE SAY HERE uhhhhhhhh wow he's bad at this.]

Um. So, you bake everything yourself, do you?

[ it's okay, keats... it's not what you say that's important.

it's the fact you want to say something at all that matters. :')c

you giant tsundere, you. ]

Everything I've given you, yes. They're very simple though, just variations of the same two or three recipes!

[b-baka]

Oh, well, you could've fooled me.

[Another hidden compliment. He nods, reaching up to push up his glasses, his gaze never leaving her face.]

You should open a bakery or something. Make some money off your craft.

Oh... [ she catches this one now, for sure, as evidenced by the darkening of the blush on her cheeks, and the hasty way she avoids his glance. ]

Thank you. I'm really glad you like them. But, gosh, no way, it would take too much time... We aren't going to be here for that long, are we...?

I hope not. I have a job to get back to, and I hardly think ALASTAIR will pay for my editorials.

[His job is important! It's all he's ever done! VERY IMPORTANT WRITING for a third-rate magazine no one reads!]

...I'm sure whatever they want us to do will be done quickly. I'm sure they didn't kidnap us to make us work for life.

[ she perks up slightly, now turning to him with wide, unabashed eyes. seems her earlier shyness has given way to her curiosity; the two emotions are constantly battling for dominance, for sure. ]

What do you do? [ she asks in a way that seems to imply she'd been curious for a long time, but had never seemed to have the right moment to ask. now he's just presenting it to her on a silver platter, and she's snatching it up greedily.

also does fe:a world have editorials? newspapers????

]

Oh, me? [Keats may be a closed book when it comes to who he is, but if there's one topic he's more open about, it's his job. He'll complain about it from time to time, sure, but it's what he does. It's practically part of his identity at this point.]

I'm a reporter. I work for a magazine called Unknown Realms. [He says, pushing up his glasses.] We report on a variety of supernatural and occult phenomena that people have encountered, whether it's strange lights in the sky, or creatures and beasts that shouldn't exist...you get the general gist of it.

[ she gasps a little, her hands fluttering up to cover her mouth. ]

Oh my gosh — that sounds so fun! [ she scoots a little closer, peering up at him with wide eyes. ] Does it ever get dangerous? It must get dangerous, doesn't it? Oh, gosh, I bet you have lots of stories...!

[Well, this is certainly not a reaction he expected. He's a little taken aback at first, but then lets out a good-natured laugh. He'll admit it, the positive attention is nice.]

Oh, it definitely was very dangerous for the last story I was working on. Rather gave the rest of the ones I covered before a run for their money. And yes, I do have many stories, that's rather the point of my job, isn't it?

Oh, will you tell me about it? Please? [ how many 'e's can she stuff into that word, LET'S SEE ] Please please please pretty please? I love stories!

[WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE, OLIVIA, HOW CAN KEATS BE GRUMPY AROUND YOU]

Alright, alright! Fine. [He says, almost chiding, though his expression says anything but.]

It's quite a long one, though. [He turns his head to the open door behind him.] Why don't you come in? I'm sure you wouldn't want to stand in front of my door for hours, listening to me talk.

[ it'samystery.jpg ]

Oh. [ the sharp gasp is probably alarming... as is the sudden flush on her cheeks while her hands fly up to cover her mouth. she looks like he's just offered her the world.

well. in keats-speak, he may as well have. ]

Y-You're letting me in...? Really? Oh, Mr. Keats — I'm so honored...!

[ olivia don't ruin it ]

[The reaction is unexpected - at most, he expected a nice "oh, sure" in response, but the fact that she's blushing and gasping like he's about to show her some amazing secret just makes him stare at her for a moment.]

[He finally speaks, tilting his head like a somewhat confused owl.]

It's just an invitation inside. It's not a big deal.

[ but it IS a big deal, keats! at least, it is to olivia, who had (up until now) been quite nervous he'd try to push her away or disassociate with her after that whole... mistletoe incident...

yet here they are now, inviting each other into their homes as if they were — gasp — friends...! ]

Someone's home is a very intimate space! To be invited in is... very touching. Thank you, Mr. Keats — I promise I won't touch anything!

Intimate space? Well, for some people, maybe...but back home, you see, it was my work office, too. That is, it wasn't as intimate as you think.

But enough of that. Come in. [He says with a nod, walking inside.] Be sure to close the door after you.

[Now, don't let the cleanliness of the place fool you, Olivia. If Keats had at least half of the things he had back home, it would be a bit of a mess - he's the type to leave books opened on the floor and let papers be strewn about haphazardly. However, here, the home is neat...for now. Keats' coat hangs at the back of a chair that is pushed against a desk in the middle of the room. A candle sits neatly on top of a book labeled John Keats on the corner of the desk, and there's a bed and nightstand in the far corner. There's a small dining area in the corner nearest the door, complete with small table and chair. Near it is a cupboard, and there Olivia can see some of the numerous goodies she's been bringing to him for the last several weeks lined neatly on the shelves. Overall, there isn't much at all, but Keats doesn't seem to mind.]

[ she falls into a revered sort of silence as she walks into the room, doing as she's told and shutting the door after her as quietly as she can. she wanders in, eyes trailing over every little detail, even though there isn't much to take in, but she seems intent on absorbing as much as she can.

she lingers a bit in the middle of the room, hands absently wringing over her chest. she isn't quite sure where to sit, if she should sit at all... ]

It's very comfy, [ she adds, mostly as an afterthought. ]

Comfy? Ah, perhaps. It'd be more comfy if I had all of my things from home, you know.

[He says, moving to take the chair from the table and move it so it's next to the desk, across from the chair adorned with his coat. It was his usual layout back home, for when visitors came to visit, and he feels he needs to have it here, for familiarity.]

[As he moves to sit down in his own chair, he notices she hasn't made a move just yet.]

What are you doing, standing there? The chair isn't going to bite you.

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