The Opera (Elizabeth)
Posted: 31 May 2017, 00:07
Doc winced as he hung up from speaking to Cyril. He had forgotten about the Opera. Well not completely, forgotten, he just hadn’t realized how much time had actually passed until he glanced at his watch and noticed the date. The month was half over, he could have lost the tickets by now. He just hoped that he could still wrangle a decent view and seat. Being the first time to ever see an Opera, that last thing he wanted was for them to have horrible seats.
Dialing the number that Cyril had given him, he waited on hold for nearly 20 minutes before ‘Anna’ picked up. Doc explained the situation, and Anna was able to find the record.
“So are you still wanting the tickets?”
“Yes I still want them, and I give you my payment details.. Are they good seats?”
“Yes, row six, center stage. That was why we called. We hate empty seat so close to the stage. And it is a popular Friday night showing.”
Doc let out a pent up sigh, “Great,..” He gave her the payment details, wrote down the confirmation number, and arranged to have them picked up by Cyril. Though he was sure Cyril wouldn’t be too pleased. But Cyril could get over it.
Glancing at his watch again, he was going to be later than even he had expected, but he needed to call Lizzie.
Dialing her number, he waited for her to pick up, and when it went to voicemail, Doc didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. On the one hand, he could say what he needed and be on his way; yet on the other hand, It was usually best to speak to the female when confirming a date. Once he heard the beep, He spoke.
“Lizzie, Doc. Calling to give you details on the Opera. Next Friday, at 8pm. We have center stage seating. I am going to be out cell range until Sunday. You know how to contact me otherwise if needed.” Doc hung up. Yes he had been cryptic, but he wasn’t sure who might listen to her messages.
Elizabeth: The message was listened to twice, before clear blue eyes glanced down at what visibly remained of Traci. She blinked, pulled off both gardening gloves and then felt the corners of her lips pull into a frown. How very cryptic, and yet...it phased her none. “I see.” Elizabeth said quietly as she disconnected the voicemail phone call and made her way from the garden grounds, to the third floor where her penthouse was located. Both sets of gloves came to rest upon the arm of the couch closest to the door, as Elizabeth wiped her bare feet upon the carpet at the door before entering.
She turned sharply to the right to take a seat at the dark wooden chair behind her writing desk. A drawer on the right side, lowest to the ground was opened as Elizabeth pulled out thick resume styled paper, while the other captured a pen from the top middle drawer. The black pen was twisted, revealing the point, as the paper came to lay flat upon the desk, while Elizabeth reflected upon the voicemail. It would have been easy to return the call and leave a voicemail in return; even easier to converse with Doc by just a thought or two, but whatever had him out of reach of a phone was quite possibly too important to interrupt. Nothing that she had to say, could not wait for his eventual return.
Dear Dic- Doc,
I received your voicemail message about the date and time for the Opera showing. It is an unfortunate shame that I had missed your call and we were unable to converse before you were unavailable for the remainder of the weekend. Well, no matter now. If one is reading this note, then the postal system is still in wonderful working order in this city and you will receive the message in plenty of time. Friday, is not good for me, and so, I must politely decline the invitation to accompany thee. Perhaps, a rain cheque?
Please forgive the scratchy, at best, penmanship at times. One had an unfortunate accident earlier in the week with my writing hand, a wall, and some dead weight.
Kindest Regards,
Elizabeth
Elizabeth folded the top flat of the envelope inside the seam, turned to look at her thrall, and handed him the note. After making direct eye contact with Diederik. “Take this to Winterbrook Asylum. Does one know the way?” Her head tipped, still holding the envelope with two finders.
“Ja.” He nodded his head, eyes on hers. Elizabeth stared into them for a few more seconds, before she smiled and nodded her head. “Good. Thank you. That will be all, Diederik. I imagine one such as yourself, has things to do this evening, so when the missive is given to whomever is in charge to forward to Doc, then one may do as they desire this evening.” She pushed back the chair behind her desk, giving it a second thought. “Oh. Perhaps, if I may...suggest a...quieter activity than the one from last weekend? I do enjoy my...friends to remain at my side longer than a fortnight at best.”
Elizabeth gingerly grabbed her cellular device with the semi-bruised hand from her incident with Traci, earlier in the week. The other hand moved for the handle on the top drawer, to which she pulled opened and dropped the device within it for safe keeping, while she finished the rows of wildflowers as planned.
Doc: Little did Doc know that what he had been looking forward to with genuine pleasure, would come crashing to an end. That seldom felt emotion, will vaporize like fog into the rising sun. It would be three days before he received her handwritten note, that summarily dismissed him. What did he really expect? She was within her rights to decline. He had no claim on her, and she was stating that ever so clearly. Carefully he folded the missive and returned it to it’s envelope. Moving across the room, he filed it under ‘correspondence’ and closed the drawer.
Leaving the office, Doc took at seat at the bar, and motioned for George to give him, his usual, 3 fingers of Woodford reserve. He said nothing, causing George to give him the typical bartender, ‘why don’t you tell me about it’ look. To which Doc gave him a baleful glare. Knowing when to step away, George did so now. If there was one thing George has learned in his sixty-two years on this earth, it was not to push a man when he was angry; and from George’s perspective, Doc was angry.
Doc sipped the bourbon, giving George not another thought. His mind was preoccupied with the iterations of what may have caused Lizzie.. No. Not Lizzie. Lizzie was the name of a friend, and it was made abundantly clear to him, that she did not consider him thusly. Therefore, she was Elizabeth. Once his mind made that determination, his ability to compartmentalize was, once more, back at full strength. The letter needed no answer. Her offhand comment at the end about a rain check was a very polite ‘**** you’. A very polite one, that followed the opening not-so-polite one. It stood to reason, if her letter needed no response, he need not waste effort on a reply. Taking another sip of bourbon, he decided that he would attend the opera alone. It would have been nice to share the experience with someone, but as he was finding out repeatedly, he was better off alone.
Elizabeth: Monday had passed with no word. Tuesday as well. Wednesday was drawing to a close and still no reply back from Doc. The wildflowers had been planted in accordance to Elizabeth's desire, which had left time to think. Reflect. Perhaps, she could surmise that calling Doc a Dic had not been her most proud moment, but at the same time...he had been called far worse in her opinion. After all, she had gifted him an *** a few months back, and he took it in good spirits.
Elizabeth's feelings had been hurt more than she would acknowledge and perhaps admitted to Traci, before the telepath woman had choked the woman to death in the boutique. And when she had finally came to realize that perhaps, Elizabeth's feelings had been trampled upon, he had called her and left a message. Most certainly, Elizabeth could have replied to Doc's message with a mere thought, but he too could have afforded such a means of communications.
”More gardening tonight?” Diederik asked as he looked up from his Microeconomics textbook. Elizabeth shook her head no while her blue orbs bounced around, then slowly narrowed. “No. Business takes me elsewhere tonight. Keep an eye on Berry?” Her eyes dropped down to the dog that was curled up in her puppy bed. ”Ja. Sure.” He replied, his dutch accent thicker than Elizabeth realized before. “Good.” Her retort came before the woman turned on her heels and disappeared into a fade portal that would take her halfway across the city.
–
A train whooshed by as the woman appeared beside a concrete column. Her eyes looked around, fell upon the building she was looking for. Her black heels clicked on the concrete, as Elizabeth sucked in the cool night air, finding her focus. Charles was not allowed to 'blow' her off again, after he had already done so...twice. It did not take her long to get inside her destination, being familiar with the layout of the mall, or the bar's location.
As soon as the woman donned in black entered 'Yin,' the atmosphere began to change. The spouts from the soda and water 'guns,' flicked and started streaming the heavy spurt of liquid from them. The appliances in the kitchen area seemed to malfunction; the refrigerator slowly warming up in temperature. The disposal in the kitchen sink whirred to life without any visible external force flicking the 'on' switch, and the stove's flames threatened to lick the ceiling with a 'WHOOSH!' Either the kitchen was 'haunted' or there was some correlation to Elizabeth's appearance and what was going on inside of it.
Her steps glided to the bar, daring to take a seat, regardless of what she knew was going on. Yes, perhaps her feelings on things ran a little deeper than Elizabeth had played it out to be in her reply to Charles. The woman smoothed her dress down, found the curve of a stool at the bar and looked pointedly at the man she had seen once or twice before. “I am here for Charles. I will wait, if necessary.” Elizabeth blinked once, seemingly unphased as to what was going on in the kitchen, just across the room, behind closed doors.
Doc: The evening had been quiet, no more than two patrons were in the place, and they were at a table to side. It was clear they wishes not to be disturbed. So when George saw Ms. Elizabeth enter, he gave her a ready smile. The smile faltered however, when his soda and water spigot started spraying soda and carbonated water across the bar. “What the hell!?” As George reached for the water cut off valve under the sink, the disposal blazed to life. “What the?!” Jerking his hand back, was a reflex action. He knew there was nothing under the sink that could harm him, but the sound of grinding, tended to make one think twice before blindly stumbling forward.
However, as luck would have it, as George jerked backward, the stove top at his back roared to life. Whirling about, after nearly becoming barbecue, an ashen faced George gaped at Elizabeth as she stoically announced she was there for Charles. Wasting no time what so ever, he bellowed, “DOC!”.
Doc had been vaguely aware of chaos in the bar, more by the muted noises, than by seeing the events themselves. He hadn’t paid it any heed as he had a George to handle that sort of thing. But when George shouted for him, Doc knew something needed his attention. It wasn’t just the shout .. it was the unadulterated panic in the shout that made Doc enter the scene hastily.
Standing there, he took in the whole scene, Elizabeth, stern but well appointed in her black dress, all the while water, soda, grinding, and flames shoot and burst forth. George by now had successfully turned off the water and disconnected the soda. The disposal still ground in a menacing fashion, as the flames continued to spurt in giant leaps. Doc moved to the stove and turned off the gas, and blew out the pilot light.
Standing, he straightened his tie, gave George a look and gesture that said, ‘clean this up..’ before he turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth. What an unexpected surprise. Slumming?”
Elizabeth: The reaction of George did little to garner any reciprocated response from the woman sitting at the bar. Her attention was solely designated for one person, and one alone. And until he made an appearance, the building could burn for all she cared. And maybe, it just might.
Her blue eyes narrowed at Doc’s words, before Elizabeth laughed and looked around. “Mmm, yes. This place does seem to have gone down hill lately.” The blonde woman acknowledged, before tacking on. “Mayhaps the management has failed to spend the appropriate time and effort within the establishment to ensure its...success.” She tsk’d, then waved a hand to dismiss her previously spoken thoughts. “If one is not careful…” She leaned forward, found the tie Doc had adjusted previously and pulled it towards her so that they would be as close to eye level as possible. “They may very well loose what it is they have worked so very hard for. Advice from an old friend...Charles.” The tie was released while the woman reclaimed her seat once again.
Doc: Doc saw her hand come forward, grasp his tie, and ever so surely pull him to her eye level. By this time, the lone couple at the table had their full attention. After all, who could ignore spraying fountains and flames? And an irate blonde bombshell?No one. So as she took him to task verbally, he warred with himself. He wanted to unleash his own tirade at her for the ‘**** you’ letter. But this was not the time nor place. He would wait until they did not have an audience, and then he would..
He pulled himself up short, as she retook her seat. He would, what? What did it matter. She was the one that gave him the big heave ho, off you go; so why was he fighting it? Had he not learned that lesson, time and again, that no matter what he said, did, felt, mattered? The female was always right, and he was always in the wrong. So he had let it go. He had let her have the last word. He had taken the kick to the curb without issue. So why was she here now? How much further did she wish to kick him? He looked around the disaster that was now his bar, knowing that somehow, even if he didn’t know exactly how, that she was behind it. He couldn’t prove it. But he knew, and she knew, she had done it. She had all but admitted it. But why? He would never ******* ever .. understand females. They push you away, you come back.. You’re being oppressive. They insult you, push you away.. And you stay away, and they set about destroying your things. There was no winning. ****. There was not even a truce.
Linking his hands together, resting them in front of him, Doc looked evenly at Elizabeth. “One may be under the impression, that had -already occurred-, due in no small part, to the lovely ‘**** you.. **** you again’ letter that one received. Or did one misunderstand them point of the missive?”
Elizabeth: Yes, her letter had been unkind, but he had been equally unkind, in her eyes. And that reminder had both sets of bathroom faucets turning on and running simultaneously as she sat across the bar from him. “And is a woman not allowed to pass along a lovely ‘**** you,’ in return to an offered ‘**** you’ first?” Her eyes bounced from Doc, to the couple gawking at them, before she flashed them an apologetic smile. “I found a beetle of sorts in my salad last week here. I believe it was a...cockroach?” She feigned horror, as the couple got up and abruptly left.
“The point,” She hissed under her breath, “Was that one did not set up a pre-arranged time or date for a great while, in regards to our...plans. And instead of sending me a proper missive, I received a voicemail. A voicemail! Without an apology to boot. As if one was merely a passing thought, or an accidental one. And I--” The sound of toilets flushing repetitively flushing echoed throughout Yin as Elizabeth caught her train of thought. “I am more than a mere passing thought or an accidental one, Charles.” Her voice raised slightly so that she may over-speak the sounds of the toilets flushing.
“I simply expected...different from thee. More, perhaps. It was most unkind of thee to leave one wondering if the date would even transpire.” When her final thoughts were concluded, the bathroom faucets had instantly shut off in unison. “I understand that one has a great many other obligations and priorities, but I would not do such a thing to thee. I had expected the same, since we are...friends.” One by one, the toilets stopped their ensemble of rushing water, as her arms mirrored Doc’s own, her steely gaze having softened as she spoke. “Your actions were the epitome of an asshole...” Her eyes darkened as Elizabeth’s hands dropped into her lap, one hand smoothing down the fabric that covered her legs. “And more.” Elizabeth concluded as her eyes focused on him.
Dialing the number that Cyril had given him, he waited on hold for nearly 20 minutes before ‘Anna’ picked up. Doc explained the situation, and Anna was able to find the record.
“So are you still wanting the tickets?”
“Yes I still want them, and I give you my payment details.. Are they good seats?”
“Yes, row six, center stage. That was why we called. We hate empty seat so close to the stage. And it is a popular Friday night showing.”
Doc let out a pent up sigh, “Great,..” He gave her the payment details, wrote down the confirmation number, and arranged to have them picked up by Cyril. Though he was sure Cyril wouldn’t be too pleased. But Cyril could get over it.
Glancing at his watch again, he was going to be later than even he had expected, but he needed to call Lizzie.
Dialing her number, he waited for her to pick up, and when it went to voicemail, Doc didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. On the one hand, he could say what he needed and be on his way; yet on the other hand, It was usually best to speak to the female when confirming a date. Once he heard the beep, He spoke.
“Lizzie, Doc. Calling to give you details on the Opera. Next Friday, at 8pm. We have center stage seating. I am going to be out cell range until Sunday. You know how to contact me otherwise if needed.” Doc hung up. Yes he had been cryptic, but he wasn’t sure who might listen to her messages.
Elizabeth: The message was listened to twice, before clear blue eyes glanced down at what visibly remained of Traci. She blinked, pulled off both gardening gloves and then felt the corners of her lips pull into a frown. How very cryptic, and yet...it phased her none. “I see.” Elizabeth said quietly as she disconnected the voicemail phone call and made her way from the garden grounds, to the third floor where her penthouse was located. Both sets of gloves came to rest upon the arm of the couch closest to the door, as Elizabeth wiped her bare feet upon the carpet at the door before entering.
She turned sharply to the right to take a seat at the dark wooden chair behind her writing desk. A drawer on the right side, lowest to the ground was opened as Elizabeth pulled out thick resume styled paper, while the other captured a pen from the top middle drawer. The black pen was twisted, revealing the point, as the paper came to lay flat upon the desk, while Elizabeth reflected upon the voicemail. It would have been easy to return the call and leave a voicemail in return; even easier to converse with Doc by just a thought or two, but whatever had him out of reach of a phone was quite possibly too important to interrupt. Nothing that she had to say, could not wait for his eventual return.
Dear Dic- Doc,
I received your voicemail message about the date and time for the Opera showing. It is an unfortunate shame that I had missed your call and we were unable to converse before you were unavailable for the remainder of the weekend. Well, no matter now. If one is reading this note, then the postal system is still in wonderful working order in this city and you will receive the message in plenty of time. Friday, is not good for me, and so, I must politely decline the invitation to accompany thee. Perhaps, a rain cheque?
Please forgive the scratchy, at best, penmanship at times. One had an unfortunate accident earlier in the week with my writing hand, a wall, and some dead weight.
Kindest Regards,
Elizabeth
Elizabeth folded the top flat of the envelope inside the seam, turned to look at her thrall, and handed him the note. After making direct eye contact with Diederik. “Take this to Winterbrook Asylum. Does one know the way?” Her head tipped, still holding the envelope with two finders.
“Ja.” He nodded his head, eyes on hers. Elizabeth stared into them for a few more seconds, before she smiled and nodded her head. “Good. Thank you. That will be all, Diederik. I imagine one such as yourself, has things to do this evening, so when the missive is given to whomever is in charge to forward to Doc, then one may do as they desire this evening.” She pushed back the chair behind her desk, giving it a second thought. “Oh. Perhaps, if I may...suggest a...quieter activity than the one from last weekend? I do enjoy my...friends to remain at my side longer than a fortnight at best.”
Elizabeth gingerly grabbed her cellular device with the semi-bruised hand from her incident with Traci, earlier in the week. The other hand moved for the handle on the top drawer, to which she pulled opened and dropped the device within it for safe keeping, while she finished the rows of wildflowers as planned.
Doc: Little did Doc know that what he had been looking forward to with genuine pleasure, would come crashing to an end. That seldom felt emotion, will vaporize like fog into the rising sun. It would be three days before he received her handwritten note, that summarily dismissed him. What did he really expect? She was within her rights to decline. He had no claim on her, and she was stating that ever so clearly. Carefully he folded the missive and returned it to it’s envelope. Moving across the room, he filed it under ‘correspondence’ and closed the drawer.
Leaving the office, Doc took at seat at the bar, and motioned for George to give him, his usual, 3 fingers of Woodford reserve. He said nothing, causing George to give him the typical bartender, ‘why don’t you tell me about it’ look. To which Doc gave him a baleful glare. Knowing when to step away, George did so now. If there was one thing George has learned in his sixty-two years on this earth, it was not to push a man when he was angry; and from George’s perspective, Doc was angry.
Doc sipped the bourbon, giving George not another thought. His mind was preoccupied with the iterations of what may have caused Lizzie.. No. Not Lizzie. Lizzie was the name of a friend, and it was made abundantly clear to him, that she did not consider him thusly. Therefore, she was Elizabeth. Once his mind made that determination, his ability to compartmentalize was, once more, back at full strength. The letter needed no answer. Her offhand comment at the end about a rain check was a very polite ‘**** you’. A very polite one, that followed the opening not-so-polite one. It stood to reason, if her letter needed no response, he need not waste effort on a reply. Taking another sip of bourbon, he decided that he would attend the opera alone. It would have been nice to share the experience with someone, but as he was finding out repeatedly, he was better off alone.
Elizabeth: Monday had passed with no word. Tuesday as well. Wednesday was drawing to a close and still no reply back from Doc. The wildflowers had been planted in accordance to Elizabeth's desire, which had left time to think. Reflect. Perhaps, she could surmise that calling Doc a Dic had not been her most proud moment, but at the same time...he had been called far worse in her opinion. After all, she had gifted him an *** a few months back, and he took it in good spirits.
Elizabeth's feelings had been hurt more than she would acknowledge and perhaps admitted to Traci, before the telepath woman had choked the woman to death in the boutique. And when she had finally came to realize that perhaps, Elizabeth's feelings had been trampled upon, he had called her and left a message. Most certainly, Elizabeth could have replied to Doc's message with a mere thought, but he too could have afforded such a means of communications.
”More gardening tonight?” Diederik asked as he looked up from his Microeconomics textbook. Elizabeth shook her head no while her blue orbs bounced around, then slowly narrowed. “No. Business takes me elsewhere tonight. Keep an eye on Berry?” Her eyes dropped down to the dog that was curled up in her puppy bed. ”Ja. Sure.” He replied, his dutch accent thicker than Elizabeth realized before. “Good.” Her retort came before the woman turned on her heels and disappeared into a fade portal that would take her halfway across the city.
–
A train whooshed by as the woman appeared beside a concrete column. Her eyes looked around, fell upon the building she was looking for. Her black heels clicked on the concrete, as Elizabeth sucked in the cool night air, finding her focus. Charles was not allowed to 'blow' her off again, after he had already done so...twice. It did not take her long to get inside her destination, being familiar with the layout of the mall, or the bar's location.
As soon as the woman donned in black entered 'Yin,' the atmosphere began to change. The spouts from the soda and water 'guns,' flicked and started streaming the heavy spurt of liquid from them. The appliances in the kitchen area seemed to malfunction; the refrigerator slowly warming up in temperature. The disposal in the kitchen sink whirred to life without any visible external force flicking the 'on' switch, and the stove's flames threatened to lick the ceiling with a 'WHOOSH!' Either the kitchen was 'haunted' or there was some correlation to Elizabeth's appearance and what was going on inside of it.
Her steps glided to the bar, daring to take a seat, regardless of what she knew was going on. Yes, perhaps her feelings on things ran a little deeper than Elizabeth had played it out to be in her reply to Charles. The woman smoothed her dress down, found the curve of a stool at the bar and looked pointedly at the man she had seen once or twice before. “I am here for Charles. I will wait, if necessary.” Elizabeth blinked once, seemingly unphased as to what was going on in the kitchen, just across the room, behind closed doors.
Doc: The evening had been quiet, no more than two patrons were in the place, and they were at a table to side. It was clear they wishes not to be disturbed. So when George saw Ms. Elizabeth enter, he gave her a ready smile. The smile faltered however, when his soda and water spigot started spraying soda and carbonated water across the bar. “What the hell!?” As George reached for the water cut off valve under the sink, the disposal blazed to life. “What the?!” Jerking his hand back, was a reflex action. He knew there was nothing under the sink that could harm him, but the sound of grinding, tended to make one think twice before blindly stumbling forward.
However, as luck would have it, as George jerked backward, the stove top at his back roared to life. Whirling about, after nearly becoming barbecue, an ashen faced George gaped at Elizabeth as she stoically announced she was there for Charles. Wasting no time what so ever, he bellowed, “DOC!”.
Doc had been vaguely aware of chaos in the bar, more by the muted noises, than by seeing the events themselves. He hadn’t paid it any heed as he had a George to handle that sort of thing. But when George shouted for him, Doc knew something needed his attention. It wasn’t just the shout .. it was the unadulterated panic in the shout that made Doc enter the scene hastily.
Standing there, he took in the whole scene, Elizabeth, stern but well appointed in her black dress, all the while water, soda, grinding, and flames shoot and burst forth. George by now had successfully turned off the water and disconnected the soda. The disposal still ground in a menacing fashion, as the flames continued to spurt in giant leaps. Doc moved to the stove and turned off the gas, and blew out the pilot light.
Standing, he straightened his tie, gave George a look and gesture that said, ‘clean this up..’ before he turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth. What an unexpected surprise. Slumming?”
Elizabeth: The reaction of George did little to garner any reciprocated response from the woman sitting at the bar. Her attention was solely designated for one person, and one alone. And until he made an appearance, the building could burn for all she cared. And maybe, it just might.
Her blue eyes narrowed at Doc’s words, before Elizabeth laughed and looked around. “Mmm, yes. This place does seem to have gone down hill lately.” The blonde woman acknowledged, before tacking on. “Mayhaps the management has failed to spend the appropriate time and effort within the establishment to ensure its...success.” She tsk’d, then waved a hand to dismiss her previously spoken thoughts. “If one is not careful…” She leaned forward, found the tie Doc had adjusted previously and pulled it towards her so that they would be as close to eye level as possible. “They may very well loose what it is they have worked so very hard for. Advice from an old friend...Charles.” The tie was released while the woman reclaimed her seat once again.
Doc: Doc saw her hand come forward, grasp his tie, and ever so surely pull him to her eye level. By this time, the lone couple at the table had their full attention. After all, who could ignore spraying fountains and flames? And an irate blonde bombshell?No one. So as she took him to task verbally, he warred with himself. He wanted to unleash his own tirade at her for the ‘**** you’ letter. But this was not the time nor place. He would wait until they did not have an audience, and then he would..
He pulled himself up short, as she retook her seat. He would, what? What did it matter. She was the one that gave him the big heave ho, off you go; so why was he fighting it? Had he not learned that lesson, time and again, that no matter what he said, did, felt, mattered? The female was always right, and he was always in the wrong. So he had let it go. He had let her have the last word. He had taken the kick to the curb without issue. So why was she here now? How much further did she wish to kick him? He looked around the disaster that was now his bar, knowing that somehow, even if he didn’t know exactly how, that she was behind it. He couldn’t prove it. But he knew, and she knew, she had done it. She had all but admitted it. But why? He would never ******* ever .. understand females. They push you away, you come back.. You’re being oppressive. They insult you, push you away.. And you stay away, and they set about destroying your things. There was no winning. ****. There was not even a truce.
Linking his hands together, resting them in front of him, Doc looked evenly at Elizabeth. “One may be under the impression, that had -already occurred-, due in no small part, to the lovely ‘**** you.. **** you again’ letter that one received. Or did one misunderstand them point of the missive?”
Elizabeth: Yes, her letter had been unkind, but he had been equally unkind, in her eyes. And that reminder had both sets of bathroom faucets turning on and running simultaneously as she sat across the bar from him. “And is a woman not allowed to pass along a lovely ‘**** you,’ in return to an offered ‘**** you’ first?” Her eyes bounced from Doc, to the couple gawking at them, before she flashed them an apologetic smile. “I found a beetle of sorts in my salad last week here. I believe it was a...cockroach?” She feigned horror, as the couple got up and abruptly left.
“The point,” She hissed under her breath, “Was that one did not set up a pre-arranged time or date for a great while, in regards to our...plans. And instead of sending me a proper missive, I received a voicemail. A voicemail! Without an apology to boot. As if one was merely a passing thought, or an accidental one. And I--” The sound of toilets flushing repetitively flushing echoed throughout Yin as Elizabeth caught her train of thought. “I am more than a mere passing thought or an accidental one, Charles.” Her voice raised slightly so that she may over-speak the sounds of the toilets flushing.
“I simply expected...different from thee. More, perhaps. It was most unkind of thee to leave one wondering if the date would even transpire.” When her final thoughts were concluded, the bathroom faucets had instantly shut off in unison. “I understand that one has a great many other obligations and priorities, but I would not do such a thing to thee. I had expected the same, since we are...friends.” One by one, the toilets stopped their ensemble of rushing water, as her arms mirrored Doc’s own, her steely gaze having softened as she spoke. “Your actions were the epitome of an asshole...” Her eyes darkened as Elizabeth’s hands dropped into her lap, one hand smoothing down the fabric that covered her legs. “And more.” Elizabeth concluded as her eyes focused on him.