A first date

[adifferentlife]

Dating is something that Sybil finds a bit strange. It isn't that she's doing anything she wouldn't have were she home at Downtown - the theatre with a suitor wouldn't be something that raised a brow, though dinner somewhere public would be considered odd to say the least. What is the strangest is doing it herself, organising this all with someone who doesn't know her family. Organising it with someone so much like her and yet so different.

The play had been one they both should have known. After all it was Shakespeare, and Hamlet - whilst not romantic - was something that she has enjoyed in the past. Tonight's performance left her baffled, with more questions than anything. But other than a shared baffling, she keeps her thoughts to herself until they're seated at the restaurant. Only then does she look across the table with her eyes wide, shaking her head. "Were they all supposed to be derelicts?"

Comments

[jaimemieux]

“Your mother is an American?” he said, a bit surprised by this detail. But then, nothing about Sybil was quite what one expected. It was one of the things he liked about her. “And do you have any siblings, or was it only you?"

[adifferentlife]

"She is, to my grandmama's continual horror," Sybil says, laughing as she remembers the Dowager Countess fondly. "Two sisters, Mary the eldest and Edith the middle one. I think Mary liked to pretend that Mama was English as well. But no son, sadly, so no heir."

[jaimemieux]

"And a daughter, I imagine, could not inherit a title," Combeferre said with a faint roll of his eyes. The absurdity of the aristocratic system knew no bounds. "But a full family, all the same. Your grandmother sounds like quite the character." He grinned softly.

[adifferentlife]

"No, she could not. Another silly and outmoded rule," she agrees with him on that. There was no good reason that she could see that Mary could not inherit such a thing. And the complications were such that she didn't want to go into them yet. "She was, very much. I sometimes would try not to sit too close to her at dinner lest I not be able to hide my smile."

[jaimemieux]

"It was always the same with my aunt," Combeferre said with a knowing grin. "She liked nothing better than to complain, and said whatever was on her mind, no matter how dreadful. As children, my eldest sister and I had a terrible time not laughing at the dinner table."

[adifferentlife]

"I'm afraid she didn't much like change, and ours was a time rife with it." Sybil turns her attention to Henri, thinking that turnabout is entirely fair play, especially in this situation. "And you then, was it just you and your sister or were there other siblings?"

[jaimemieux]

Combeferre shook his head. “There were four of us in total. Myself, two sisters, and the youngest, my brother.” It was always a bit strange, thinking of his family, even before he had found himself in Darrow. He had not seen any of them in years, and as time had progressed, he had shared less and less of his life in his letters. When so many of one’s activities were illegal and radical, telling some of the most seemingly simple stories had to be a careful process. “We were always close, though I fear I did not appreciate them properly until after I left home."

[adifferentlife]

"I found the same, though I was only ever truly away from them for a few months before I came here. Ehen I went to study nursing in York. Of course, when Mary marries that would have changed again." She wonders if they would even recognise her now. "Do you miss them now?"

[jaimemieux]

“I do,” Combeferre admitted with a pang of guilt. Smiling, he added quickly, “I think you would have liked Celestine. She is the younger of my two sisters, and always preferred books to people, I think. Mother tended to worry about her, but I think she is perfectly all right the way she is.” It was strange, knowing that his family would very likely never meet this woman to whom he had already devoted so much of of his thoughts. He had fallen into infatuation before, and in such circumstances, had usually imagined bringing the woman in question to his childhood home. Now, such a thing was impossible.

Soon, their food arrived. It was appropriately delicious, though if it had tasted like sawdust, Combeferre still would have declared the meal one of the better of his life. So at ease did he feel in Sybil’s company, so utterly himself. By the time the bill arrived, he was well and truly infatuated.

“Shall I walk you home?” he asked as he helped her into her coat.

[adifferentlife]

The dinner had been wonderful though she can scarcely remember what it is she ate. The company has been what made it, their conversation only making her interest in Henri grow. When he offers to walk her home she nods, pleased that he wishes to.

"I would like that very much. I admit that I don't quite want the evening to end yet."

[jaimemieux]

"The feeling is mutual," Combeferre said, blushing a bit. He, too, had barely noticed the food - even the wine - so swept up in Sybil's company had he been. As they stepped out of the restaurant, he offered her his arm. "It really is a lovely night, isn't it?"

[adifferentlife]

She takes his arm perhaps a bit more closely than she has before, their shoulders nearly rubbing even through their coats. The sky is clear and hints at the coolness to come without being cold. "It is lovely. Made better by the company."

[jaimemieux]

“Oh, I certainly think that has something to do with it,” Combeferre agreed, flashing her a playful grin. Though outwardly, he had settled into his new home fairly well, he had been decidedly lonely since arriving in Darrow, and somewhat resigned to loneliness. What chance was there that he would find himself home again, or that a friend would appear on these strange shores? Optimistic but ever rational, Combeferre had known better than to hope too much for either outcome.

But now, with Sybil, loneliness was unexpectedly forgotten.

He tipped his head up to the sky. “ ’tis strange - one knows rationally that the stars remain largely unchanged over the course of a few hundred years, and are largely the same across most of the known world. But whenever I look up, I am always surprised to find the sky so recognizable. Perhaps we are not so far from home as sometimes feel."

[adifferentlife]

"It makes me wonder just that sometimes. Are we a part of the same place as we came from? It makes it seem that much more familiar when things are lonely." Not that she feels that way now, in company such as this. "We could see the stars so well from Downton, but never as much in London. When I leave the hospital late they seem so bright. I could convince myself I was still in Yorkshire were in not for the building behind me."

[jaimemieux]

“I was always disappointed by the stars in Paris. Though even those were brighter than the ones here. I sometimes go out to the countryside at night - they’re even more like home out there.” He laced his fingers in hers. “You might come along sometime."

[adifferentlife]

Sybil looks down at their hands with a smile before glancing back up to nod at his suggestion. In a way it's quite scandalous but she finds that she doesn't mind. "I would like that. Very much."

[jaimemieux]

Perhaps his request was not the most usual - but they were now living in a quite unusual world, weren’t they? And though gentlemanly to the core, Combeferre had never had much respect for propriety for its own sake. He only wanted to show Sybil the stars as he saw them. “Good,” he said, and with a sheepish laugh and a grin he could not contain, briefly looked away.

They were nearing her building, if Combeferre was not mistaken, and he was again struck by the wish that the night might not come to an end quite so soon. With that in mind, he stopped in the middle of the pavement, the quiet street free of people, and turned to slip his other hand into hers. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he murmured, “Very good,” and kissed her.

[adifferentlife]

It isn't that Sybil hasn't been kissed before, though those were mostly quick pecks stolen by boys after dances and nothing like this. Her hands tighten in his when his lips touch hers, and she finds herself quite breathless but loath to pull away. Even being in the middle of the street couldn't embarrass her now, her smile sweet and soft when the kiss does end.

"I-" she's speechless, unsure of what to say. "It has been a nice night."

[jaimemieux]

Combeferre laughed and ducked his head, hoping the darkness, though muted by streetlights, was thorough enough to hide the blush he felt color his cheeks. He hands still in hers, he asked with a lopsided smile, “I haven’t been too foreword, have I?"

[adifferentlife]

"Perhaps for some but, I think- I think no." She says it in a rush when she does, her own cheeks flushed with colour. The truth of the matter is that she liked the kiss a great deal. She likes Henri a great deal as well. "You weren't."

[jaimemieux]

"Bon." He lifted his hand to gently cup her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek, and impulsively kissed her again.

When he pulled back this time, he was smiling crookedly. "I thought if I kissed you, I might keep you a little bit longer. But I suppose I should let you go."

[adifferentlife]

"I suppose that you should," she agrees, not wanting him to leave yet either. When he touches her face she leans into it, smiling warmly at him. It's not entirely surprising that the night has brought them here, she realises, and it's a relief to know that he likes enough to wish to say talking in the street all evening as well. "I'd like to do something like this again. Perhaps without the play?"

[jaimemieux]

"Without the play," he agreed, his chest constricting with delight. If someone - Courfeyrac, perhaps - had been there to declare his friend a fool, Combeferre could not have argued. By God, he was smitten. "Though perhaps we can find something a bit less strange in the future." He led her up to the front door, lingering close for a moment longer. "Until next time, then. Et bon nuit."

[adifferentlife]

"A very good night," she says softly, brushing her fingers against his arm before she steps back to pull out her keys. "Thank you for it. Until next time."

[jaimemieux]

Only reluctantly did Combeferre allow Sybil to depart. He lingered a few steps from her door, hands clasped behind his back, a murmured au revoir on his lips when she glanced back one last time.

Then she was gone, and the night was silent, and he tipped his head up at the stars once again, laughing softly at his own ridiculousness, and at the surprising wonders that Fate could toss one’s way.