[network] @ADMIN; Arrival

[snowblindmods]

Welcome to Norfinbury. The time is E̛̬̞͖͖̫R҉͖̯̬R̼̻͉̰͎̳̙O̩͓͔̫͇͈̯R and the date is E̛̬̞͖͖̫R҉͖̯̬R̼̻͉̰͎̳̙O̩͓͔̫͇͈̯R. This network has been provided for your use. Please interact politely with everyone else on this network.

Comments

[private]

[devoutish]

Mm.

My mother's homeland is Russia. She wouldn't go back either.

[So he gets it.]

[private]

[nursetemple]

Some things never change. Even in the 21st century, Russia is a...difficult country.

Were you born and bred in London?

[private]

[devoutish]

I was, yeah. My father grew up here in Camden Town, and he's never lived anywhere else. Neither have I. And I don't plan to, as long as England keeps being a good place for us.

[private]

[nursetemple]

I'd like to visit London. I've never been to Europe, never had to chance yet. You don't make that much money as a nurse.

[private]

[devoutish]

Well - I can't tell you much about what it's like in your time, and you'll never see it in mine. I hear they keep the canals.

[private]

[nursetemple]

[And she can imagine that, back then, much of his trade must have used the canals.]

Ever been out of London much? Travel Europe, maybe?

[private]

[devoutish]

I've seen a bit of England. I've been to the sea. But other than that - no. Just during the war.

[private]

[nursetemple]

Is the war still wearing on you?

[PTSD, after all, is a real thing that didn't just appear in more recent conflicts. They just didn't talk about it, back then.]

[private]

[devoutish]

Norfinbury wears on me more.

[He'd recovered from the war better than a lot of men, all things considered.]

[private]

[nursetemple]

Why is that?

[Her voice is gentle, but it's not like she's trying to soothe him, or anything. She knows she's not speaking to a spooked animal or a scared kid. This is a grown man, a dangerous man, and she doesn't plan on condescending to him. But she's interested in understanding.]

[private]

[devoutish]

War was war. There was a goal, right, like we already discussed. Norfinbury is torture, and nothing more.

[private]

[nursetemple]

[Torture.]

Has there been no upside to your time in Norfinbury at all?

[private]

[devoutish]

There have been things that have made it more bearable. I wouldn't call them upsides.

[private]

[nursetemple]

[There are so many things she could ask, if it wasn't so early in her time in Norfinbury, if they hadn't just met. She's thoroughly intrigued by Alfie, but she has no interest on pushing things.]

Something as simple as a good pair of gloves would make things more bearable for me already.

[To say she's worried about frostbite is an understatement. She needs her hands.]

[private]

[devoutish]

Gloves. Food. Blankets, people. Singing old songs from home on the network. There are things.

[But none of them make up for what he left behind - not even the people.]

[private]

[nursetemple]

You sing? [She raises an eyebrow.] I'm a terrible singer. But there is comfort in even the smallest things.

[private]

[devoutish]

I can sing. I don't do it habitually.

[private]

[nursetemple]

[Smiling, Claire tilts her head, leaning closer to the camera for just a moment.]

Maybe one day I'll get to hear you.

[private]

[devoutish]

You may.

[He's trying to sound serious, but there is maaaaaybe a hint of a smile in his voice.]

[private]

[nursetemple]

[She lets out a throaty chuckle.]

I very solemnly promise I won't record it.

[private]

[devoutish]

It's already recorded. Back a bit - a month or so.

[private]

[nursetemple]

[She's totally hunting for that.]

And you don't mind? Is that not putting a dent in your reputation? You must have one.

[He probably doesn't care. Probably confident enough not to.]

[private]

[devoutish]

[He snorts.]

If a reputation is so flimsy that a bit of singing can ruin it, it's not much of a reputation at all.

[And then he links her this, casually skipping past the dirtier one he'd sung earlier in the post. His voice is very average - in tune, but that's about it.]

[private]

[nursetemple]

[He's quite right, there. She doesn't respond right away, listening to his singing first, an amused smile on her face. At least, he's not trying to break her eardrums, and that's something compared to the singing she hears most often at work (drunken, off-key, vile).]

I'm sure that old sergeant deserved it, huh?

[private]

[devoutish]

I did one about Norfinbury, if you look a bit farther down.

[He sounds a little subdued, because he'd looked a bit father down himself - down to the point where he and Watson had started singing some really sad songs about the dead.]