two - I want those who get to know me / to become admirers or my enemies

[brushoff]

( Some threads are nsfw )

All in all, Dorian Gray would have appreciated Harry not mentioning the specific fact that he got tortured over the journals as it invited far too many questions...like how it happened...or how he's still standing...or why he doesn't have any scars on his body.

Still, it happened and he's got to deal with it so might as well make himself available and answer the questions needed. Lord knows people will inevitably have some, especially since news of his murder attempt is becoming more and more public.

Dorian blatantly doesn't work for the next few days after the brief sojourn to Scotland. Instead, he can be found lounging about in various places, usually reading a book, almost always with a glass of whiskey at his side. When he's not enjoying a book and a drink, he's on the deck, bundled up but not wearing any gloves or headgear as he lights a cigarette and looks out to the ice.

He is wearing a pair of designer shades that he dreamed up when he's on deck, though. Might as well attempt to look somewhat good.

Comments

[wishiwasatree]

Trixie doesn't want to see Dorian, but it's a small fucking boat and there's only so many times she can duck out from a room claiming women's troubles or 'needing to talk to someone conveniently not in that same fucking room'. Besides all the revulsion at his attack on Goodsir and general confusion about the whole 'putting himself back together' thing, she feels horrible for not asking after Dorian knowing that he was probably going through some fucked up stuff in his brain.

So when she spies him reading one evening she decides to man-the-fuck-up and go and say hello to him.

"What're you reading?"

[brushoff]

Dorian is sprawled out like a jackass: sitting in a chair, feet on a table, flipping through a book. When he hears Trixie's voice, he dog-ears one of the pages before turning to show her the title.

"Wordsworth. An old flame of mine loved his work. I suppose I might as well enjoy myself and indulge in a little nostalgia while things are still relatively quiet."

[wishiwasatree]

Trixie doesn't know why she asked; she doesn't know what the fuck Wordsworth is. She nods though, pretending like she does, then gestures to the bench across from him.

"Abide me sitting near you for a spell?"

[brushoff]

"Feel free," Dorian says, with a little nod. He moves his legs, taking them off the table as he adjusts his posture and sits upright. This is a conversation that he's not entirely sure how it will go. He likes Trixie and he hopes that out of everyone here, she would be the most comfortable with his...circumstances. But that was before she pried him off the man he tried to murder.

"I can read some of these out loud if you want. Poetry's always a little bit more special when you hear it recited instead of reading it off the page."

[wishiwasatree]

No one's ever read Trixie poetry before. She's not sure which is more surprising, that Dorian's reading poetry to himself or that he'd want to share it with her.

"If you'd care to read some, I'd care to listen."

[brushoff]

It only takes Dorian a few moments to find the poem he's looking for. It's obvious he knows this book very well. When he speaks, it's obvious that he has a voice for recitation. Dorian might be useless at some things, but he has a wonderful voice for reading, narration, and things like that.

"There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day.
The things which I have seen I now can see no more."

The poem's a bit of a long one. So after the first stanza, Dorian looks over to Trixie and asks, "Shall I continue?"

[wishiwasatree]

The words are pretty, and Dorian does have a gift for reading it. Trixie doesn't try to guess the meaning beyond what she thinks she hears; she doesn't have an ear for that kind of thing, but she doesn't need more than what she's given.

"It's nice," she says, nodding for him to go on.

[brushoff]

And so he does go on. The poem is a bit long but Dorian recites the whole thing. It's obvious from his tone of voice and the way that he occasionally looks off the page that he already knows this poem very well.

When he finishes, he closes the book before giving Trixie a small smile. "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood by William Wordsworth. Not exactly my taste, but like I said, someone who I cared about deeply loved this man's works."

[wishiwasatree]

Trixie likes Dorian's cadence more than she cares for the actual words, and as he recites the poem she rolls a cigarette and strikes a match.

"Did he get paid by the fucking word?" she teases gently. She takes a long drag and then holds out the cigarette to Dorian, silently asking him if he wants to share.

[brushoff]

Dorian can't help but laugh at that, shaking his head with a grin. "Do you want to know the worst thing? There are some poets that I love who are even wordier than that. I'll dream up some Coleridge next time, we can suffer through The Ancient Mariner together."

But he does want to share the cigarette. Dorian takes it from Trixie and takes a long drag himself, before offering it back to her.

[wishiwasatree]

She takes the cigarette back and flicks the ash into a small plate someone so carelessly left on the table (for maybe this exact fucking thing).

"There anything to that fucking title?" She takes another drag. "Intimations of Immortality?"

[brushoff]

"If you're asking if I'm immortal, then the answer is yes." There's no need to beat around the bush. Dorian says that in a straightforward manner before he looks over at Trixie.

"I'm over a hundred and fifty years old. And, as Goodsir so kindly demonstrated back in Scotland, I cannot die."

Except under specific circumstances that Dorian is keeping to himself!

[wishiwasatree]

Trixie stares at him through the cigarette smoke. Well, there's her answer. Dorian's some kind of immortal god who can't fucking die, sitting here with her like he's some fucking normal human being.

"Ain't people supposed to get wiser the older they get?" she asks, passing him the cigarette. "What's your fucking excuse?"

[lieutenantsteward]

Once his rounds were completed and his work satisfactory, Jopson was actually able to take some time to himself. Dressed casually and out of his uniform, he felt a little freer. Once he was certain the Captain wouldn't be around, he poured himself a drink in the galley and hesitated only momentarily before sliding into a seat across from Dorian. "I assume you don't mind, Mr. Gray," he says softly, his speech pattern moving into something less formal, more natural.

[brushoff]

Dorian doesn't hide his expression: he seems oddly charmed that Jopson is A: out of uniform and B: joining him for a drink. He sets down the book he's reading and gives Jopson a wide smile.

"You know I don't mind," he says, with a little nod. "And you know you can call me Dorian if you wish."

[lieutenantsteward]

He actually smirks a bit. "Yes, Mr. Gray. I know," he tells him deliberately, taking a drink as he leans on the table. "Keeping yourself out of trouble? Haven't had to drag you off today..."

[brushoff]

"If you want to drag me off somewhere, all you have to do is say so," Dorian teases, matching Jopson's smirk with one of his own. "I'll even promise to be a good boy and make this round of trouble easier for you to deal with."

[lieutenantsteward]

Jopson just blinks at him for a moment, understanding but choosing not to acknowledge it at first. He takes a long drink instead, finishing what little he had put in his glass. Clearly he had underestimated how much alcohol he would need to interact with Dorian. "You're are certainly the bold one," he mutters.

[brushoff]

"And you need to be bolder," Dorian responds, as if it's obvious. "Your life can't revolve around your captain."

Dorian reaches down beneath the table, by his seat. There's a half-drunk bottle of whiskey that he sets on the table and pushes towards Jopson.

"Tell me, Thomas. What do you really want?"

[lieutenantsteward]

He snorts, though he knows it's true. His life does revolve around the Captain, but he likes it that way.

"What do I really want? You seem to have already provided it," he tells him, taking the whiskey and pouring it into his glass.

[brushoff]

"The problem there is that I've provided you with so many things already." After Jopson pours himself some whiskey, Dorian takes the bottle to top his own off.

"Whiskey. Conversation. New experiences that you haven't ever dealt with before. I don't know which of those I should keep providing you with."

[lieutenantsteward]

"I can get all those on my own, sir," he reminds him. "I do not need you for them. But, at this moment, your bottle of whiskey is more within reach than my own ration, so I see no reason to refuse that. You have provided proximity only," he explains, pushing his hair from his face.

[brushoff]

How beautifully cheeky! Dorian can't help but laugh a little, giving Jopson a small shake of his head.

"Mmm, if it's proximity you want, I can think of a few choice places where we can indulge in that. Or we can sit here and continue our conversation until one of us gets drunk enough to make some new decisions."

He finishes that statement by raising his glass and then downing a healthy amount of the whiskey. It's obvious that Dorian plans to win the 'guess who gets drunk first' award.

[lieutenantsteward]

Jopson sets his jaw, but he does give in to a surprised laugh. This had clearly been a mistake, but there was something about Dorian that made him impossible to hate. And as much as he wants to stand up and leave, he won't. Pride or curiosity, he can't say.

"How are you so brazen in everything you do, Mr. Gray? Have you no shame, or is it simply that you do not fear consequences?"

[brushoff]

Jopson's laughing. Good.

"I've never given a damn about convention," Dorian says, with an idle wave of his hand. "As for the consequences, they seem absolutely minimal compared to the potential rewards."

He leans in a little, trying to close the gap between himself and Jopson. "So yes. I suppose I'm utterly shameless. But I have a sneaky suspicion that's what you like about me." After all, Jopson seems a little charmed by all this.