[ A blind Handmaid, is what he heard. It was all he cared to hear. Gossip bandied about the nearest Jezebel's was how he became aware of her. One of his trips to retrieve contraband required for his work, vital components he has to keep off-record if he's to retain any singular value to his superiors. There were other details raised, questioned, commented on between sips of liquor, over which he was definitively incurious. The usual shallow drivel, Commanders enjoying the privilege to dictate women's desirability.
He didn't care what she looked like. That gave him something of an edge with the Aunts, he's fairly certain. They sent photos with her file once the posting was confirmed, regardless. A criminal posed and catalogued. And admittedly pretty, in an objective sense. Like a very old painting, acknowledged long after the artist's death. Preserved with inadequate haste and attention, all original splendour cracked and faded.
The girl under the wings doesn't look like the girl in the pictures, once she starts to breathe in his home. Her beauty isn't a matter of study. Something about the way she takes her surroundings into her — to witness it, it's interpretive. After the kitchen, he has enough of a mind not to stare. Novelty, is all it is. His routine hasn't been shaken in some time. While he's prepared for her, he can't have anticipated every nuance of her presence and methods. He'll get used to her. She'll fade into the background, as planned.
The tour is a chance to ground himself again; the banality of his descriptions helps significantly. He's well equipped to accept her gratitude when she offers it, and return her smile without undue fascination. ]
I don't — have a Martha. You'd be doing me an incredible service, handling those duties. Why don't I put your things in your room while you make us some tea? You can get familiar with the kitchen. You'll find everything you need.
[ It will take little more than a minute for him to rejoin her, tucking himself out of her way while remaining available to offer help, if asked. The afternoon is a write-off for work, he accepted that at the time he was scheduling her arrival.
He makes conversation, so as to not hover in silence, and, more importantly, because they have more to discuss, ] My household is a bit unorthodox, as I'm sure you can tell.
no subject
He didn't care what she looked like. That gave him something of an edge with the Aunts, he's fairly certain. They sent photos with her file once the posting was confirmed, regardless. A criminal posed and catalogued. And admittedly pretty, in an objective sense. Like a very old painting, acknowledged long after the artist's death. Preserved with inadequate haste and attention, all original splendour cracked and faded.
The girl under the wings doesn't look like the girl in the pictures, once she starts to breathe in his home. Her beauty isn't a matter of study. Something about the way she takes her surroundings into her — to witness it, it's interpretive. After the kitchen, he has enough of a mind not to stare. Novelty, is all it is. His routine hasn't been shaken in some time. While he's prepared for her, he can't have anticipated every nuance of her presence and methods. He'll get used to her. She'll fade into the background, as planned.
The tour is a chance to ground himself again; the banality of his descriptions helps significantly. He's well equipped to accept her gratitude when she offers it, and return her smile without undue fascination. ]
I don't — have a Martha. You'd be doing me an incredible service, handling those duties. Why don't I put your things in your room while you make us some tea? You can get familiar with the kitchen. You'll find everything you need.
[ It will take little more than a minute for him to rejoin her, tucking himself out of her way while remaining available to offer help, if asked. The afternoon is a write-off for work, he accepted that at the time he was scheduling her arrival.
He makes conversation, so as to not hover in silence, and, more importantly, because they have more to discuss, ] My household is a bit unorthodox, as I'm sure you can tell.