sirenspull_logs | Note to Self:

Stupid knives. What did it even matter? Stupid tiny little forks all looked the same. And they all had the same purpose. They were just helpful to not get your fingers messy. Eponine was sure Hattie was fussing over nothing and exaggerating on purpose.

She chucks the rest of the forks carelessly on the table, and glares at Hattie before stomping off to the front door.

When she opens it, Warsman will see a young girl in a very fancy crinolined maid's gown, complete with fancy white cap stuck on her head. Eponine's not smiling; she's absolutely exhausted, and she stifles a yawn.

"You're Warsman? Madame Hattie is Expecting you, M'sieur. Am I to take your coat?"

She stands back from the door to allow Warsman in, and holds her hands out for a coat.
[And go through your pockets to see if there's anything worth pocketing - but she'll do that later, when Warsman is safely occupied with Hattie.]

"Madame Hattie wants to see you in the kitchen, M'sieur, if you will follow me."

The door opens- and Warsman blinks. He's always known that Hattie was royalty, of course, but somehow he hadn't expected... well, maids. Not like this, anyway. Robin had housekeepers back in England, too, but nothing so elaborate.

"Yes... yes, that's me." If he sounds a little bewildered, it's because even when he stayed with Robin he wasn't sure of just how to address the man's maids. He always feels as though he's being too polite, or not polite enough, or too personal. Maybe he's just spent so much of his life closer to their end of the spectrum than Robin's or Hattie's that he's not sure how to place himself comfortably anymore.

After a slightly awkward pause, he sweeps his poncho off of his shoulders; he's in his wrestling gear, as always, but she seems to be expecting something and so he hands it over (though she will, in all likelihood, be somewhat disappointed by the sparse contents of the wallet within).

"Thank you." He can, at the very least, do gratitude. He tilts his head curiously at the young woman as he follows her through- Hattie's been busy, he can see that. "I'm sorry. I don't think I caught your name."

Edited 2012-11-07 23:09 (UTC)

"Then you must come in. Madame will shout at me if I do not do this properly."

She drapes the poncho over the banister and beckons Warsman to follow her.

"I'm 'Ponine, M'sieur. Madame Hattie... she has me..... do what she does not want."

Eponine's hasty - it's nearly time for her to go to Mr Gold's, and quite frankly, she has no idea what to do with Warsman. She probably comes across as awkward; she doesn't meet his eyes at all, and she twists her hands together in front of her.

"Madame? Madame -" She shouts Hattie as they come closer to the kitchen.
"It is he."

She opens the door for Warsman and follows him into the kitchen.

She does come across as a little awkward, but more than anything Warsman is sympathetic; it can't be an easy job even at the best of times, and he can't imagine Hattie is a particularly forgiving mistress. She doesn't look quite so young as she could, but her obvious nerves are enough that he can't quite stop himself from using the kid-skin gloves approach just in case he's intimidated her by appearance alone. It wouldn't be the first time, even without the aid of a mirror along the way.

"'Ponine'?" he repeats uncertainly. It sounds French, matching the titles she uses. "I'll remember that for next time."

Trying to make actual conversation, though, might just make things more awkward for her. Instead he simply does his best to do as he's expected to do, keeping out of her way as she leads him forward- no mean feat, given his size- before stepping into the kitchen ahead of her.

Yeah.

Warsman is a good practice partner, his social awkwardness combined with Eponine's level of skill guarantees that things won't end in disaster. Unfortunately she doesn't need to be there to know that her maid blew it, and by the time the two have arrived, Hattie's already with her face buried in her palms while shaking her head. Why? Why does this have to be so difficult?

After she sighed, Hattie got to her feet and curtseyed (in example) before Warsman, "Good afternoon, Warsman. I apologize for Eponine, she's.. New. Very new.." and a very brief glare is shot in her direction. "You may have noticed she has a terrible habit of adressing me as 'madam' instead of 'my lady'. She also appears to have difficulty smiling, and seems to find it fitting to shout across the halls to me. Oh, and be especially keen on painting me in a poor light to my company, I'm sure."

One could almost see the vein beginning to buldge from her forehead. "You're done here for the day, get out of my sight."

Eponine looks upset, glancing from Hattie to Warsman and back again. Is it okay for Hattie to point out her faults in front of - was he a man? It's not fair. Her face turns sullen.

"Madame - my lady. I did not say you were bad. I did -"

Oh you know? She can't be bothered arguing it out. She's too tired. So she just shrugs and turns on her heel to go and get changed back into her normal clothes again. Before she slips out, though, she'll be sure to relieve Warsman of his wallet. (sorry!)

This... isn't quite the position Warsman wanted to be put in. It was clear from the offset that Hattie wasn't exactly thrilled with her new maid's performance, even if he couldn't see what she'd done to deserve such a dramatic response- head in hands, sighing, the works. She hardly looked happy before, but it's no wonder that Eponine's expression falls almost instantly.

"It's fine," he says quickly, feeling a little stab of guilt. It might have been unavoidable for him, but he still can't help but feel implicated in the girl's bad day. The least he can do is try to make amends while she's still in earshot. "She was very courteous and helpful." He turns back to her- well, her back- and inclines his head slightly in what he hopes seems a respectful nod. "Thank you. Maybe I'll get the chance to speak to you some other time."

Truthfully, he's more on Eponine's side in the matter than Hattie's. Truthfully, he thinks that Hattie's being unreasonable and unfair. But it's hardly his place to waltz in and judge either of them when he's barely acquainted with the situation, especially when Hattie's been nothing but kind to him thus far, is it?

Hattie doesn't say anything to Eponine, simply shooting her a very annoyed look. That expression shifts, however, with raised brows in response to Warsman's praise. However verbally she responds with a doubtful, ".. Really."

She raises a hand to her chin with a thoughtful expression, and while it's clear she isn't going to apologize to Eponine, she is willing to give the benefit of the doubt- or one could also look at it as pushing some of the weight upon her brawling companion. "Well, perhaps you two could work together sometime. I am also improving Eponine's etiquette, and you two just may have the chemistry I'm looking for."

She shakes her head, "That aside I'm sorry you had to see that. I've been under some pressure and I really need things to just.. Work. In this household. Ah, but that isn't why we're here today, is it? How have you been, Warsman? .. Come to think of it, what are your living arrangements like?"

'Work together some time'? 'The chemistry I'm looking for'? As if Warsman needs another excuse to feel uneasy about just where this is going; this has 'social experiment' written all over it. He can, however, brush that aside if it means Eponine gets off a little easier- at the very least, Hattie seems to have been distracted from the subject of Things Her Maid Did Wrong Today. And, all that aside, he can appreciate having a difficult day.

"It's fine- and I've been fine, too," he answers. It's not exactly the truth, the shock he got in the mirror this morning. Actually, the whole situation here has been a little disarming; he barely remembers to check the kitchen for reflective surfaces before moving further into the room, though it does seem to be more on the rustic side of things. Anywhere else and he might have worried about marble tops shiny enough for Hattie to fix her makeup by.

Warsman hovers tentatively by the table. "Didn't I mention it before...? I'm living in a little apartment in sector 8. It's nothing special, really." 'Nothing special' was right; not that he's ever been especially house proud, but he'd hate to have to show it to anyone else. More pressing, though, is Hattie. "What about you? I hope things haven't been too stressful?"

Edited 2012-11-09 09:38 (UTC)

'Rustic' is about right, the house seems to be a bit of a mix of atmospheres on the inside, though Hattie at the moment doesn't have the funds to fix things to more her liking.. But it isn't too bad for something she didn't have to pay for.. Sort of. Unknownst to Warsman, however, his training is indeed going to involve mirrors, ho ho ho.

"Feel free to take a seat," she offers, uncertain if it can really handle his weight, but there's only one way to find out, isn't there? "Oh yes, right, well.. I just thought since you're becoming a star the living situation might have shifted a bit. You're a bit big for an apartment." and she doesn't mean that in an insulting way for the most part. She's smaller than him and an apartment is too small for her!

"Things have been a little trying.. The good news is I have another employee, so that is rather exciting! The bad is that I'm having difficulty keeping the budget in check now that I don't have any roomates.." the blonde's lips twist a bit. "I can't even afford a decent maid. I shouldn't take things out on her but I'm just not used to things being so trying. Things were so much easier with Ella around."

Warsman does as he's told, but her comment earns a little tilt of the head, like a cat being offered a saucer of milk. "I don't really need anything more than an apartment," he answered plainly, though she was right. He's walked into the top of the door-frame coming home in the dark far too many times for a grown man with any sort of claim to intelligence. "I'm never usually home that much, anyway."

Even back home, though, he'd never lived anywhere worth mentioning. Robin had his family estate, yes, and Brocken Jr. lived in his father's Berlin mansion- but he'd just wandered Russia for the most part. Even Suguru, the heir to the throne, spent the entirety of his career living in a shack in the park.

But now he's getting a little wistful. Instead of letting himself drift any further back into nostalgia, he focuses on Hattie's problems. She doesn't seem to be dramatising it, either; she seems genuinely bothered.

"If you're having money problems, I don't mind being dropped from the books," he suggests earnestly. "I can get by on my other wages, and I don't mind helping you for nothing." That's what friends do for each other, isn't it? It's a principle he's stood ardently by for the last few years. "If there's anything else I can do, you only have to ask."

Edited 2012-11-10 09:53 (UTC)

Hooboy. It's one thing to make Eponine work for nothing, but for Warsman to do the same.. Well.. It actually isn't an 'honor' thing, but more that considering how little she pays him anyway, taking that off the books wouldn't help her situation. She props her elbow upon the table and her chin into her palm as she thinks it over a moment, ".. No, that won't be necessary, though I appreciate the offer. I believe the best course of action is to find someone to live with me."

Hattie's quiet for a moment, when suddenly she lightbulbs.

".. That said, I'll have to take you up on that offer to help. If you happen to befriend someone who looks wealthy, let me know about them, all right?" she asks, her mood seeming to brighten at the very thought. "And speaking of which, I have prepared a little lesson plan for you. Should things go well, you're going to be a whole new you in just two months!" She folds her hands upon the table then, "So? Are you excited?"

It seems like a good idea to Warsman. He'd considered it himself when he was looking for somewhere to stay himself, but he couldn't help but balk at the idea of sharing close personal space with someone he barely knew. He wanted company, yes, but with a stranger? That said, in a house this big, it does make sense to let out a little of the extra space.

He's about to comment on her suggestion with a little laugh- it's easier to assume that she's joking about the gold-digging strategy- when she suddenly interrupts herself with a new subject. And it's really not something he wants to laugh at.

"A lesson plan?" he repeats falteringly and not a little warily, feeling that uneasiness from before stir in the pit of his stomach. Ordinarily he'd feel guilty for not showing the requisite gratitude or enthusiasm, but frankly Hattie's got him worried. "What do you mean, 'a whole new you'?"

Hattie isn't too keen on the idea herself, and while a good number of her friends already have a place to stay already, she may be lucky and convince at least one of them over. But yes, she lets that subject drop in favor of something more fun since he doesn't seem like she can win him over.

At least not yet.

"That is a very good question. Now, keep in mind that I do exaggerate a bit, I'm not going to brainwash you or anything. But it's more your outlook on yourself and perception upon certain social situations that will change. For example, you're a bit on the.. Well, uncertain side when it comes to yourself aren't you? But that isn't what I see. I see a hip, confident, and strong-willed armored man of steel."

"I want you to point at yourself and say 'I am a hip, confident, and strong-willed armored man of steel and you know it'. 'I am a lean, mean, brawling machine'."

'Outlook on yourself'. Oh, dear. Warsman squirms uncomfortably in his seat, silently dreading what's to come- he's heard this routine countless times from Robin Mask already, and it never gets any easier to sit through. As it happens, in this case, it can only get harder. Face heating a little, he's all set to tell Hattie that as much as he appreciates the compliment, he doesn't really think there's much she can do for him when she delivers her first instruction- and his mask all but glows.

"Y-you want me to say what?" he repeats, momentarily flustered out of his usual low, polite tone. It could have been a lot worse, of course, but even so... it was really more the sort of thing that Suguru would say. Which, thinking about it, is probably why he immediately wants to disappear into his chair somehow.

But that's silly, isn't it? They're the only ones here- and it's just a little sentence or two. Breathing in, newly self-conscious at the robotic sound of it, he braces himself. "... alright. I can try." He raises a hand, points, and stiffly recites: "'I am a lean, mean, brawling machine'."

It sounds even more ridiculous in his own quiet voice- Hattie might have been able to sell it on enthusiasm, but he's certainly can't- but it's better than the other line.

Oh Warsman, you're so cute.

BUT IT'S WRONG!

Hattie props her chin into her palm again, gesturing her student to go on with a wave of her free hand, "You heard me loud and clear, Warsman. Come on, I'm not going to laugh or anything, this is training."

So he agrees to it, the second line, at least, and she realizes what a pickle she is in. Her expression is perfectly neutral once it's recited. Ok, positive feedback, she needs to give positive feedback, "That was.. Decent, Warsman, but you could do much better. I know -exactly- what you need that will help; come, we're going to my office. Now, the first thing you need to do is relax."

Hattie guides him to her office, which is very cluttered, there's cloth all over the place, half-dressed mannequins, and pin-ups of doodled designs. "You're too tense and worried, you need to somehow grasp that feeling you get when you're in an atmosphere you're comfortable in. Imagine yourself in the ring.. And the fans are screaming, thousands of them cheering for you. Your opponent is staggering back and forth, wide open for the finishing blow. How does that make you feel?"

Edited 2012-11-14 21:06 (UTC)

Warsman winces little. 'Decent but could do better'. In a way, it would have been easier if she'd just come out and told him how terrible he'd sounded. Then he wouldn't have to fill in the blanks himself. It's not as though he isn't trying, of course (does that make matters better or worse?), but it's a little difficult for him to relax at all when he feels so ridiculous. Still, she's the boss this afternoon- he needs to think of her as his Robin Mask if this is going to work.

He gets up and follows her out in quiet obedience. Hattie's office gives him a little style whiplash as he enters; the sleek white walls and leather furniture are miles away from the kitchen's country cottage feel. He'd feel all the more exposed in here were it not for her general clutter warming the room up.

Taking a seat, he tilts his head; it's a situation he's only ever found himself in a couple of times, but... his match with Buffaloman probably came the closest to what Hattie's describing, and while he'd never entirely stood a chance the feeling of the crowd pushing him on almost as one entity was unforgettable.

Warsman gives a near dreamy sigh. "It's what I live for," he answers earnestly, voice dipping into wistful distance.

And she would have! But she thinks she's pulling her punches by making such a comment and, at least at the moment, doesn't feel Warsman should be the recipient of a verbal beating UNLIKE SOME MAIDS SHE KNOWS.

Hattie is only barely organized and isn't actually a clean person. If she didn't have someone cleaning up after her this house would be a complete disaster area. Also, she doesn't seem bothered by he shift of atmosphere. "Stand back up, you," she commands, one hand on her hip and the other gesturing upward. "Now, I want you to keep those feelings in mind, but try to intensify it. You rush in, and deliver the finishing blow!" she swings her arm in a suprisingly skilled hook. Where did she learn that from?

"He hits the ground with a hellacious thud, and you are declared the winner. You have to pose before the crowd, no, you must! Now say it again, Warsman!" her cheeks redden a bit this time as she raises her fists in the air, "I am a lean, mean, brawling machine! Wooh!"

This does not leave the house. Ever.

Instinctively Warsman hops back to his feet, just as he would have done if she actually were Robin Mask. He feels a little foolish, asking how high for every order to jump, but this is a training session. Of sorts. It's easier still to think of it that way with the sharp swing over her arm and Warsman can't help but be a little distracted, head falling slightly to one side, somewhere between surprised and amused.

"Maybe you should be the lean, mean, brawling machine," he offers warmly. "You're good at it." Like a lot of the women he'd met around the circuit. Why didn't they allow female choujin to compete, anyway? With a little finesse someone like Bibinba stood more than a chance.

She'd seemed happy enough on the sidelines as Suguru's future queen, though, and he doubts that someone like Hattie would really be all that interested in beating people for sport- though he can't help but hear a distant memory of her casually mentioning a flair for the violent in some account of her old school life. Hmm. Maybe he really does need to pay a little more attention.

Hattie isn't going to raise a fuss about Warsman's obedience. She loves that, even if it does hurt the overall message a bit. To his suggestions, Hattie's cheeks glow brighter, and she quickly waves her hands, "O- Oh, no, I.. I used to attend competitions, and I wanted to be heard.. And besides I'm far far too soft. And my nails.. And I'd sweat too much!"

Of course all of that could change in an instant, not that she's aware of her power yet.

"A- Anyway.."

The flush is pretty endearing- it softens her authority a little. Warsman gives a quiet, affectionate little laugh, shaking his head a little. "I'll take your word for it. It's an option, anyway." He can certainly imagine that she had no problem 'making herself heard', with the pair of lungs she has on her. He's just glad that they've never been put to use in his direction.

But anyway.

He considers her orders, head still caught in a half-cock. He's thinking now. "I could say it again- but I'm a very different person in the ring to who I am outside of it. I'm not sure I'd want to be 'The Warsman' or 'The Fighting Computer' every day. I'm not sure anyone else would want it either."

"An option, sure.." Hattie doesn't seem convinced, but doesn't completely dismiss it. Warsman wouldn't have been the first to change Hattie's levels of tolerance for things she'd normally scoff at.

But back to him, is when she wags a finger, "That is true, however it is clear that 'The Warsman' is source that would do you good to tap from. For example, 'The Warsman' seems all right with revealing his fact, and yet you are not. And why is that? You don't have anything to be shy about, and yet you seem convinced that you do. I have an idea."

Hattie steps off to the side, and pushes a wheeled item, covered in red and orange cloth over toward her 'student'. He may or may not have an idea what it is until it's too late, in which she pulls the cloth away to reveal the tall mirror beneath it.

"This, right here, will be your punching bag. Only you, you know, punch it.." Hattie finishes her sentence with a breath of mysticism, "With words."

The truth is, Warsman's had his guard lowered by their exchange. He doesn't think to question what the tall object she's wheeling over is, and it's only when the cloth drops and he finds himself staring at his own warped anatomy that he realises just what she's put in front of him.

It takes a moment- and in that moment he doesn't even hear Hattie's voice at all- but then he catches the single dull eye of own reflection and he's recoiling instinctively on the couch, hands clapping to his face and knees jerking up as if in some parody of an escape, caught in a panic he only wishes were blind.

"N-no, wait, cover it back up!" he manages raggedly, but the fear is already seizing control of his voice and it comes out jerkily, frantically. What if she caught sight of him before he could cover himself? What if she saw what he's been trying so painstakingly hard to cover the whole time he's been here? It's not that he thinks Hattie is necessarily shallow, but- but he's monstrous. Uncanny. He wouldn't wish the sight of his face on anyone, much less someone he'd like to be able to look him in the eyes again afterwards. "Don't look at me! Please-!"

".. Warsman? Warsman, helloooo?"

Naturally Hattie's perplexed by the reaction the follows, making her step back a little in surprise. That was pretty much the completely opposite reaction she was expecting from him and... Well, if that's his reaction to looking at his reflection, Warsman was in a lot worse shape than she had expected.

Wow. She couldn't even comprehend that.

"Warsman! It's all right, settle down! I'm covering it up, I'm covering the mirror, see?" she quickly scrambles to place the cloths back over the offending reflection, not seeming to have noticed it herself with her focus upon the brawler. "There!"

So the next thing.. Should she apologize? She'd better, just in case, ".. Erm, sorry. Does that always happen?"

He's turned so wholly inward for a moment that at first seems that Hattie's voice is coming from somewhere far away rather than simply from across the room. Every muscle in his body is tensed as if pinned by the indecision, undecided as to whether he should fight or flee- and even when Warsman hears the tell-tale swish of cloth being replaced he only barely begins to relax, feet slowly meeting the floor again and uncurling his torso.

His hands are the last things he lowers, first peering between his fingers to make sure that the mirror has been covered. With each unsteady breath his shoulders rise and fall, trying to establish a rhythm he could call soothing.

"... n-no... it's just today... I don't know what's going on, but mirrors..." he says eventually, even if his voice tails off. Warsman curls his hands into fists in his lap, staring fixedly down at them so he doesn't have to face the shame of meeting Hattie's eyes. She was to the side of the mirror so she might not have noticed, but- but he has to ask. He has to know. "... did you see anything?"

Note to Self:

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Sorry for taking so long aaaah

No worries~. If things get too crazy, I'm ok with handwaving.

Thank you for being so understanding! ♥

That's why I make the big bucks! .. Or something.

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