[WoD] Old Fossils

[Rod Stafford]

"Victorian potty... three hundred dollars."

Rod strolled along a stretching aisle, flanked by tall shelving.

"A four hundred year old Italian spinning wheel... three thousand dollars."

He looked down at the clipboard cradle in his arm, and made a note of the catalogue number. He walked on.

"A dramatic mask from ancient Greece..."

He crouched down by a glass case. Inside was a sorrowful face made of baked clay. It was in pristine condition. He looked at it's label but saw no value. He frowned.

"Priceless?" He shrugged, "For everything else there's Mastercard, I guess."

[Fiona Devlin]

"Hardly. That's a fake, unfortunatley."

:: Fiona yawned, still waking up as she led Rod upstairs ::

[Rod Stafford]

Halfway up the stairs, Rod turned to survey the warehouse in its entirety. The store was vast, rows and rows of carefully categorised antiques stacked so high that employees could be seen using ladders to reach them. He grinned.

"I always said you'd be running your own empire one day, old woman."

Joining Fiona at the top of the stairs, he folded his arms.

"But seriously now, Fiona, where are all the swords?"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona's cheeks puffed and she rolled her eyes at Rod ::

"I keep those in a seperate room. Collectors by appointment only. The same rule applies for the rare books."

[Rod Stafford]

"Is that so?"

He rubbed his chin with the tip of his pen, when he pulled it away, there was a zigzag of black ink on it.

"I think I'll be spending a lot of my time off in those rooms."

He stood upright, remembering himself and cleared his throat.

"That depends on you, of course, boss."

He gave a little salute, leaving a line of ink on his forehead. He smiled.

"So, what sort of an employer are you anyway? I heard some of the guys down there saying something about ruling with an iron first..."

[Fiona Devlin]

:: She made a brat face in response, sticking out her tongue ::

"Yes, I give the slaves coffee and donuts every morning. It's more then they deserve."

[Rod Stafford]

"Well, hello Mrs. Sandy Claws!"

He hurried to catch up with her as she marhed on. He smiled inwardly, liking this sarcastic new humour he'd developed since meeting Fiona and Michele in Vienna.

"So, where are you taking me? Michele said you like to take newbies to your office for some sexual roleplay... you know, just so we know who's boss. This is true, right?"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona gave Rod a light punch in the arm ::

"You're terrible."

:: She led him to the upstairs apartment ::

"This is where you'll be staying. Living room, Kitchen. Bed and Bath are down the hall."

[Rod Stafford]

"Wow!"

The clipboard hung limp at his side and slipped through his fingers. It hit the varnished floorboards will a dull thud which echoed along the corridoor. He took a few steps inside and looked into the nearest room. He quickly turned to Fiona.

"I can't take this, Fiona." He glanced around, "I don't need such luxury. This... this is too much!"

[Fiona Devlin]

"For the love of Mab, just say thank you."

:: she laughed and made a bee line for the kitchen ::

[Rod Stafford]

Rod charged at Fiona from behind. He wrapped his arms around her waist and scooped her up. He ran down the hall, hugged her tight until they reached the kitchen.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona squirmed, giggling uncontrollably as Rod swept her off her feet. Then she panted for air as he let her go ::

"You're welcome!"

[Rod Stafford]

"When you said 'a place to work and a roof over my head', I have to admit I hadn't quite envisioned all this."

He took a step back and looked Fiona up and down. He shook his head.

"Fiona Devlin, shrewd business woman. Who'd have thought it?"

She folded her arms. In her business suit, she looked very professional. Then Rod said something which turned her grin into a huge smile.

"Coffee." He ushered Fiona to a seat and whipped round the kitchen to the sound of sliding drawers, banging cupboards and clattering cups.

"So, what's on the agenda today, boss?"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Her cheeks blushed a bit ::

"You don't have to call me that!!!" she laughed.

"The brown sugar is in the left cabinet. The coffee grinder is over there. Not that cabinet. The other one. And the jamaican blend is in the refridgerator."

:: After she directed Rod where everything was, she folded her hands on the table ::

"I'll show you the rare books. You're bound to find something of interest there." she winked.

[Rod Stafford]

"I hope so," said Rod, absently, as he pottered around the kitchen. He paused and gave Fiona an incredulous look.

"Coffee... grinder?"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona got up to fetch the bag of jamaican blend from the fridge and tossed it to Rod ::

"Coffee beans. You have to grind them." :)

[Rod Stafford]

"Beans?"

Rod frowned. He took a handful of beans and poured them into the top of the grinder. He looked at Fiona and she shook her head. He nodded and added another handful of beans to the machine. His eyes darted this way and that, trying to find instructions and failing. There were knobs and dials all over the place. He sighed.

"Bloody machines! You've become to reliant on these contraptions, I swear!"

He took the lid from the grinder and lifted out a handful of the beans. He took a bowl from a cupboard and squeezed his hand tight above it. A fine coffee powder issued forth from the space between his fingers. He glanced across the room at Fiona with a mischievous grin.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona blinked ::

"I suppose that's one way of doing it."

:: She set the lid back on the grinder and made a cat face at the Mage as she pressed the lid down and ground up the beans ::

[Rod Stafford]

"So, besides posh coffee, what does Chicago have to offer?"

Rod spoke louder, over the din of water splashing against the bottom of a pan. He turned the tap off and put the pan on a stove. He stared at the stove intently.

"Hmm."

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona whistled, just to keep from laughing again and gave him the coffee pot from the coffee maker ::

"The Blues." she cooed. "I'll take you down to the club tonight, just as long as you wear something sensible."

[Rod Stafford]

"The blues is music, right?"

Fiona nodded. Rod poured the water from the pan into the coffee pot. He sloshed the water around inside for a moment, then suddenly, it bubbled furiously and boiled like it had been on a stove for ten minutes. Rod smiled, satisfied, he handed the coffee pot back to Fiona.

"What do you mean as long as I wear something sensible?"

Fiona gave him a knowing look.

"Hey, it's me!"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona rolled her eyes ::

"That's what worries me, and will you stop it with the magicks please?"

:: She poured the hot water into the sink and re-filled it again, then poured it in the top of the coffee maker and put the por back in the base ::

"You have to learn how things work. It isn't nearly as hard as you think it is."

[Rod Stafford]

"Aw, come on, Fiona. If I can't do it in the privacy of my own home, where can I do it?"

He strolled out of the kitchen and collapsed on the couch in the lounge. He kicked his shoes off and wriggled his big toes through the holes in his socks. He sighed.

"You folk love making simple things difficult. A drink that takes this long to make this day and age should drink itself for me!"

He shouted to Fiona over the noise of her own kitchen clatter.

"So, how long have you lived in America?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"Oh let's see ..."

:: She set the coffee cups down and nibbled on a cinnamon stick as she counted back the years ::

" ... the thing about my kind is you have to move around every 20 years or people start to wonder about you. I've been living here and there since the late 1800's."

[Rod Stafford]

"Ha! Yeah, I could imagine if you hung around long enough, you'd end up with a mob of wrinkly middle-aged women knocking on your door asking you what your secret is."

Rod sipped his coffee, he stopped suddenly and looked down at the cup. He drank again, a gulp this time.

"This is a bloody good cup of coffee!"

[Fiona Devlin]

"It's all about the beans, luv."

:: She handed him a chocolate chip croissant and sat down at the table again ::

"Anyway, I think you're going to like it here."

[Rod Stafford]

"America doesn't have the pedigree England has but it's a refreshing change of scene. Besides, I think you got out of England just in time to avoid all the boring history."

Rod broke a piece of his croissant off and stuffed it in his mouth. He spoke thickly.

"Now, if I know you, I'm guessing you got involved in some of the more bloody history of the last century, right?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"Not by choice, if that's what you're thinking."

[Rod Stafford]

"That's exactly what I'm thinking, Fiona. And let it never be said that you don't fight for what you believe in or that you are no advocat of change."

Rod stared at Fiona with curiosity. His eyes narrowed.

"What was it like?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"You'll have to be more specific." she said soberly.

[Rod Stafford]

"War in the modern ages!" Rod blurted.

"Things have become so sophisticated. It must be so different to the old bow and arrow and sword and shield. Where did you fight?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"War is ugly business, Rod." she chided.

"The last time I took up arms in a mortal cause was 1746."

:: Her mouth took on a deep pout as she remembered it ::

[Rod Stafford]

"Fiona," Rod said with disappointment, "You've grown up."

He slumped back in the comfortable sofa, resigned to the fact that getting any war related information from Fiona would be like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. He stared into his cup.

"It looks like you've found your place, for now. I envy that." He slurped his coffee and absently asked, "How long have you and Michele been together for?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"It was at Culloden Moor." She continued. "The killing didn't stop after we were defeated. "Cumberland was a bastard. A butcher."

:: She choked on her words a bit as she stood up ::

"He set his soldiers out to kill women and children ... and the wounded, and even burned them alive in their homes."

:: A growl was etched upon her face and she stood there, shaking with rage ::

[Rod Stafford]

Rod looked up at her; this is the Fiona he remembered.

"The people change. The wars stay the same."

He put his cup down and stood up.

"You should know more than most that every war has its fair share of evil men."

He stooped a little to catch her eye.

"Fiona, it was a long time ago."

[Fiona Devlin]

"Maybe so, but ...

:: She met Rod's eyes directly ::

"... nothing is ever forgotten."

:: Rod knew those words, the first time he had heard them. In Sherwood. Fiona took her seat again ::

[Rod Stafford]

Rod understood and nodded. He wandered across the room to check out a framed landscape painting hanging on the wall. It was an impressionist work, although he didn't know that. He liked it and looked closer.

"Is this the original?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"That's a print. The original is at the Art Institute."

[Rod Stafford]

"I see."

Rod stared at the painting for a moment longer before mustering up the courage to turn around. Fiona was looking up at him from his seat. He attempted some sort of appologetic gesture with his hands but let them fall to his sides.

"Fiona, look, I'm sorry."

He reoccupied his seat next to her, his hands clasped and he leaned forward, staring at his shoes.

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories, I was just curious. But that was also insensitive of me and again, I apologise."

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona gave his hand a squeeze ::

"No need for sorries."

[Rod Stafford]

"I'm still settling into this new world," he confessed, "Even after this much time, there's so much I still don't know about."

He gave her a look of curiosity.

"Don't you ever miss the old days?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"I imagine it must be very daunting, getting it all tossed at you at once."

:: She paused in thought ::

"You know, there is a Faire coming up."

:: A huge smile spread across her face ::

[Rod Stafford]

"What... sort of faire?" Rod asked, hesitantly.

[Fiona Devlin]

"A Renaissance Festival. It's a celebration of the old days. I've grown quite fond of them."

:: She gave his hand another squeeze and laughed ::

"Trust me, you're gonna love it!"

[Rod Stafford]

Rod shrunk in his seat. He buried his head in his cup of coffee, not daring to look Fiona in the eye. She was watching him, awaiting some sort of response. He placed the cup down slowly and turned to face her. He looked nervous and spoke almost inaudibly.

"I can't dance."

[Fiona Devlin]

"You don't have to, silly man. But we do need to get you some period garb." ;)

[Rod Stafford]

You mean we have to dress up like we used to?"

She nodded. He thought about it for a moment then blurted:

"Isn't that a bit weird!?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"Funny, I thought I heard someone lamenting the old days."

[Rod Stafford]

"Yeah, but it's not like we went around dressed as the Saxons or anything..."

Rod trailed off into deep thought again. He snapped upright suddenly, his face aglow.

"Will I be able to do some magic?"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona's eyes narrowed as she waved a finger at him ::

"Simple things if you must. Like roses. No Unicorns or Gandalf tricks!!!"

[Rod Stafford]

"What's a Gandalf?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"Gandalf is a wizard from a story. He did some very fancy things with fireworks."