[i]February 5th[/i] Demolition is over and renovations have begun! You roll out of your *if (yr1_01_04_20_c = true) bed, *if (yr1_01_04_20_c = false) makeshift campsite, ready to start the day. Or at the very least, obligated to. Construction workers don't sleep til noon every day, dontcha know? If you weren't up to greet them, they'd soon wake you up anyway with their noise. Rude. Your muscles still ache from swining a sledgehammer around the last couple of weeks. Sitting in your "Tolstory and Dostoevsky" class, you could never have imagined where you would find yourself at the end of your education. But hey, picking up that sledgehammer and taking it to the outdated-and-falling-apart "improvements" from the interwar period saved you from having to pay someone else to do it! There's also something to be said for the cathartic release that is beating the ${shit} out of something. And plywood doesn't press charges. Alas, your expertise has run its course, and there's not much you can do to help the crew from here on out but stay out of the way. And so stay out of the way you do, taking walks about the grounds and getting familiar with the place you now call home. *fake_choice #I set out toward the front lawn. #On the other side of town, an older woman sits down to breakfast. Ines is sitting at a window table at [i]Sugar & Spice[/i] primly eating her tiramisu. She glances up toward the counter and rolls her eyes when the young thing manning the register flushes under her gaze. The bell over the door rings, and two dusty men in overalls stomp through the entrance. "What doya mean you haven't placed the order yet?" the older one asks. "We won't be needin' the new floorin' until March at least," the younger one counters, gesticulating wildly to support his arguemnt. "And do you think it'll just show up the minute you order it?? Get it ordered by the end of the day." The second man shrugs. "Whatever you say, boss." "You got that right," the boss harrumphs. "Bertie won't want no mistakes on that old manor." "Bertie?" Ines says to herself. "Old manor?" She rises from her seat like a monarch and marches over to the burly men standing in line to place their orders. "Excuse me, excuse me young man," she says, looking down her nose at them despite their significant height advantage. The two men exchange glances. "Did you say ${bertie} Carroll is doing work on Darbury Manor?" The older man scratches the back of his neck. "Yes, ma'am," he answers after a pause. Ines taps her foot. "At whose behest?" she demands. He shrugs his broad shoulders. "That *if (gender = "f") little American lady." *elseif (gender = "m") American fellow." *else greenhorn from America." She narrows her eyes and takes a step back as if slapped. "An American??" she mumbles before storming out of the shop. *page_break You're in one of the side fields checking out the grounds when you see a black BMW rip down the gravel drive, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. It's not Sebastian's SUV or Bertie's old pickup, so you decide to save the rest of the exploration for another day and head back to the manor to see what the fuss is about. [i]"What do you think you're doing?!"[/i] The shout carries over the sound of hammering that fills the manor. "Why was I not informed?!" Bertie, who towers over the newcomer, pinches the bridge of ${b_their} nose. "Mrs. Duchamp—" "Don't you Mrs. Duchamp me! What is the meaning of this?" She speaks with a slight accent, enunciating every syllable and favoring her front vowels. Bertie looks up at your entrance, and Mrs. Duchamp spins around to see you. "Who are you?" she demands. She's wearing a tea-length coat with a fur trim and two-toned, t-strap heels. Her hair, pinned back in elegant curls like that of a lounge singer straight out of the 1940's, matches the clutch of pearls at her throat. She crosses her arms and looks down her nose at you. *fake_choice #I reach my hand out to her. "${first_name}, the pleasure is mine." *set awk %- 5 *set cha %+ 5 Entering crisis mode, you paste a customer-service smile on your face and reach your hand out to her. "${first_name}, the pleasure is mine." She glances at your hand for a moment before accepting it in a stiff and brief shake. "Who [i]are[/i] you?" she demands again. "I'm the owner." #I don't see any advantage in making her angrier. "${first_name} ${last_name}," I say, offering her my hand. *set per %+ 5 *set yie %+ 5 You eye your guest warily. "${first_name} ${last_name}," you say, offering her your hand. She glances at your hand for a moment before accepting it in a stiff and brief shake. "Who [i]are[/i] you?" she demands again. "I'm the owner." #"I'm the owner. Who are you?" I ask, matching her glare. *set cha %- 5 *set dir %+ 5 You flash her a I'm-the-boss-around-these-here-parts scowl. "I'm the owner. Who are you?" #"No one important," I say, arms crossed, "just the owner." *set cha %- 5 *set gen %- 5 You scoff and cross your arms over your chest. "No one important, just the owner. Don't mind me." *set meet_i true "The owner?!" She turns to Bertie. "Who allowed this to happen?! [i]An[/i] *if (gender = "f") [i]Americaine![/i]" *if (gender = "m") [i]Americain![/i]" *if (gender = "nb") [i]American![/i]" Bertie raises ${b_their} arms in surrender. "Excuse me," you cut in, "but who are [i]you[/i]?" "I—" she pauses for dramatic effect, tossing her head back "—am Ines Duchamp." You look back at her with wide eyes. "I am the president of the historical society," she snaps. That vaguely explains her throwback ensemble as well as her [i]interest[/i] in the estate, but you're still not sure why she's so upset. *choice #I look to Bertie for help. *set awk %+ 5 *set hum %+ 5 Bertie steps closer. "Mrs. Duchamp, I know you're surprised, but we have a lot of work to do here. You should talk to the mayor if you have any questions." Mrs. Duchamp scowls. "You can be sure I will take this up with [i]Sebastian[/i], but don't you think you are off the hook! I demand satisfaction! And you!" She spins around and points at you. "Don't think I will allow you to turn this manor into one of your... one of your [i]American[/i] theme parks!" She narrows her eyes at you one last time before strutting out of the lobby. *fake_choice #Follow her. *set yr1_02_05_20_i 2 "Wait!" you call out to the receding figure. "Mrs. Duchamp!" "What do you want?" she says, spinning on her heels. You fiddle with your ${tic}. "We're not turning it into a theme park." She narrows her eyes at you. "We shall see." You return to the manor. *page_break #Don't follow her. *set yr1_02_05_20_i 1 Bertie lets out a breath. "Well, you've met Ines." "Why is she so upset?" "She's been campaigning to have the city take over the estate for years, but nobody wanted the headache of actually running the place. She's just mad that she didn't get her way." "Sebastian told [i]me[/i] that nobody had bid on the estate in over seventy years. Why didn't [i]she[/i] take it?" Bertie grins at you. "And mess up that fur coat with all the dust? Seriously though, I think you've already got some inkling of the magnitude of the project." The number of footprints that carpenters, electricians, and plumbers have managed to leave in the construction dust in only the first few weeks testifies to the size of your commitment. It'll be months before you have the place to yourself and months more, maybe even years, before everything's running at its full potential. "Ines, well, she wouldn't have been able to handle this much, not... not on her own." "Maybe. But it's not [i]my[/i] fault she didn't get her way." Bertie nods, but ${b_they} bites ${b_their} bottom lip, pulling ${b_their} mouth into a half frown. "She'll come around. Eventually." #"Is there something I can help you with?" *set awk %- 5 *set cha %+ 5 You take a deep breath in. "Is there something I can help you with?" "You can stop [i]ruining[/i] this manor!" she exclaims. Bertie's professional pride bruised, ${b_they} steps into the spat. "Hey now! [i]Nobody[/i] is ruining anything!" "How do you explain this, then?" She marches up to one of the walls and gestures at the bare plaster. "How could you have discarded the beautiful woodwork?" "We haven't gotten rid of it," you explain, glancing at Bertie, whose face has turned a deep shade of red. "We've taken it down—temporarily," you add quickly when you see Mrs. Duchamp's scowl. "We're making repairs to the walls and cleaning and and restoring the paneling before we replace it." Mrs. Duchamp eyes you, arms crossed and foot tapping. "And what of the grounds?" she asks. "I see you have uprooted most of the [i]verdure[/i]." You nod. "We've removed invasive plants. We're going to replace them with a mix of wildflowers in the adjacent fields and a cultivated garden behind the manor." "You will show me the plans," she announces. *fake_choice #I sigh, frustration mounting. This is too much. *set yie %- 5 *set yr1_02_05_20_i 2 *set b +1 You let out a strangled sigh. "Look, I understand you're obviously surprised by all this, and the manor seems to mean a lot to you, but the renovation plans are between me and Bertie." "We're not gonna do anything radical," Bertie chimes in. "We're wiring the place, installing indoor plumbing and HVAC, and modernizing the kitchen." You rub the back of your neck. "We're not turning it into a theme park. I promise." She eyes you, her head cocked back. "I suppose I must be satisfied with that. For now." Without so much as a goodbye, she glides out of the room, leaving you with Bertie. "Well that could have gone better," you say. "It also could have gone worse," ${b_they} says, shaking ${b_their} head. "I doubt that's the last you've heard from Ines." You sigh. "At least I'll be preared next time." #What the hell? If it'll mollify her... *set org %- 5 *set yie %+ 5 *set yr1_02_05_20_i 3 *set g +1 *set i +1 #What can it hurt? She might even prove helpful. *set per %+ 5 *set hum %+ 5 *set yr1_02_05_20_i 3 *set g +1 *set i +1 *if (yr1_02_05_20_i = 3) Bertie eyes you with a frown as you lead Mrs. Duchamp toward the sitting room that has been acting as headquarters since construction began a few weeks ago. You pull out the blueprints and invite your critic to take a closer look. "This is the first floor?" she asks, gesturing to the sheet on top. You nod. She peruses the plans, asking you questions from time to time, but mostly the sounds of construction in the background are the only departures from silence. Finally she looks up at you with knitted brows. "You are not changing the layout?" You shake your head. "Mostly it's just repairs and updates—electricity and plumbing. Nothing crazy." She sets the plans back on the table. "I see. So no theme park?" she asks with a timid smile. You smile back. "No, no theme parks." She looks at you very closely, her lips set in a thin line. "What do you hope to accomplish here?" she asks in a quiet voice. Your eyes widen in surprise. Just about everyone you've talked to—you're friends, your family—has asked [i]why[/i] you came here, but Mrs. Duchamp is the first person who has asked about your hopes. *fake_choice #"I want to remind this place of what it once was." "I want to remind this place of what it once was," you say. Mrs. Duchamp smiles. "And it was definitely not a theme park." "Definitely not," you agree, the corners of your mouth tugging upward. #"I just want my own little corner of the world." "I just want my own little corner of the world," you say. "You have picked a very lovely corner," Mrs. Duchamp says with a gleam in her eye. "I have," you agree. #"I—I don't know." Your eyes grow wide at the unexpected question. It feels like a test, and you didn't study! "I—I don't know," you stammer. Mrs. Duchamp tilts her head and considers you. "Perhaps you are the right person after all." You raise your eyebrows at her. "It will take a lot of work." "It will." "I hope you will call on me, if—if you need help." "Thank you, Mrs. Duchamp." "I suppose I should go now and allow you to... to carry on, with your work." You hold in the sigh of relief that's formed in your chest as she kisses you twice on each cheek. "I will see you again soon." *page_break "So you've met Ines," Bertie says as you rejoin ${b_them}. "That I have." "Impression?" "She's... a force." Bertie chuckles. "Her bark seems worse than her bite." "That it is," ${b_they} agrees. "She knows more about this place than anyone else in Talverton. You might have earned a friend today." "I guess we'll see." #"Well unless you're here to pick up a hammer, I suggest you leave." *set cha %- 5 *set gen %- 5 *set per %- 5 *set dir %+ 5 You level another glare at the invasion force. "Well unless you're here to pick up a hammer, I suggest you leave." Mrs. Duchamp scowls. "You can be sure I will take this up with Sebastian. I demand satisfaction! And you!" she says, pointing at you. "Don't think I will allow you to turn this manor into one of your... one of your [i]American[/i] theme parks!" She narrows her eyes at you one last time before strutting out of the lobby. Bertie lets out a breath. "Well, you've met Ines." "Where does she get off on storming in here like she owns the place?" Bertie shrugs. "Ines is... Ines. She's just disappointed that she's not part of the project." "Maybe if she hadn't been so infuriating I would have been willing to talk to her," you harrumph. "Well it's over now, and I best get back to work." You nod, already heading back out to the grounds to complete your exploration. *page_break *if (((yr1_02_05_20_i = 4) and (b_rom = 0)) and (b < 3)) *finish *else When you turn to face Bertie, ${b_they} is watching you intently. "Not everyone is like Ines, you know." "Well I should hope not," you chuckle. "This place hasn't been prepared to withstand invading forces for a couple hundred years at least." $!{b_they} places a hand on your forearm. "I mean not everyone thinks the worst of you." $!{b_they} looks down at the floor and rubs the back of ${b_their} neck. "[i]Some people[/i] would like to get to know you better." *set num b_rom *fake_choice #"Everyone else I've met has been really welcoming," I agree. *if (b_rom > 0) *set yr1_02_05_20_b 1 You won't meet ${b_their} eyes. "Everyone else I've met has been really welcoming." Bertie frowns slightly. "I'm glad. But I guess since the invasion is over, I'd better get back to the grind." *if (awk >= 58) You pull at your ${tic}. "Sounds like a plan." Is your voice a higher pitch than usual? *else "And I'd better get back to my exploration." *else You smile. "Everyone else I've met has been really welcoming." Bertie lets out an overly dramatic sigh of relief. "I'd hate for Ines to scare you away." "Oh, there's no chance of that," you promise. "If I can survive the L during rush hour, I can handle one old lady." Bertie raises a skeptical eyebrow at you, and you punch ${b_their} shoulder. "I'm serious! I've got this." "Whatever you say." You wave goodbye to Bertie *if (yr1_02_05_20_b != 1) with a laugh and head back out to the grounds. #I smile. "I'd like to get to know [/i]some people[i] better too." ♥ *set dir %- 5 *set bol +1 *set b_rom +1 You smile at Bertie. "I'd like to get to know [i]some people[/i] better too." #My mouth goes dry. "That would be nice," I squeak. ♥ *set gen %+ 5 *set shy +1 *set b_rom +1 Your mouth goes dry, and you look away. "That would be nice," you say with a small voice. *if (b_rom > num) *set yr1_02_05_20_b 2 *gosub_scene mechanics_setup flirt_style Bertie's head shoots up, and a crooked grin spreads across ${b_their} face. *if (style = 1) Your own smile grows a little wider. *else You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, but you match ${b_their} grin in spite of yourself. "Maybe we could get lunch sometime?" *if (style = 1) you ask. *else ${b_they} asks. "I'd like that." You look *if (b_taller = true) up into Bertie's eyes. Splashes of yellow around the irises fade into a light blue like lily pads on the surface of a pond. Your inspection seems to draw ${b_them} closer. *if (style = 1) You place your hand lightly on ${b_their} forearm. *else Your heart jitters at the proximity. A vaguely familiar man in dusty coveralls appears in the doorway. "You got those plans, boss?" Bertie pulls away from you with a disappointed backwards glance, shaking ${b_their} head as if trying to snap out of a day dream. "Yeah, they're right over here." That's your cue to slip out *if (style = 1) and let Bertie get back to work. *else before you melt into a puddle. *fake_choice #I peek back at Bertie as I leave and smile. You peek back at Bertie as you make your way to the door and smile, only to find ${b_them} looking back at you, You nearly giggle when ${b_they} turns ${b_their} attention back to the man who interrupted you and fixes him with a glare. How stern ${b_they} looks when ${b_they} means to! Giddy anticipation adds a spring to your step as you think about [i]getting to know ${b_them} better[/i]. Did ${b_they} ask you on a date? The excitement says yes. #Bertie watches ${name} as ${they} leave${v}. Bertie watches ${them} *if (style = 1) strut *else shuffle out the door. [i]Damn it, Mike[/i], ${b_they} thinks to ${them}self, [i]of all the times to interrupt[/i]. $!{b_they} watches ${name} retreat from the room. "Boss? "This way," Bertie replies through an exasperated sigh. With ${b_their} back turned to the ill-timed Mike, *if (style = 1) ${b_they} touches the spot on ${b_their} forearm that ${they} brushed and smiles, *else ${b_they} grins at the way ${their} voice squeaks when ${theyre} nervous, but a small knot of worry forms in the bottom of ${b_their} stomach. There are still six months before this job will be over with who knows how many disasters waiting. If there's one thing ${b_they} knows, renovations and financial strain do [i]not[/i] bring out the best in people. *set num 0 *finish