"Let me guess. A pint glass? Or a champagne flute," she answers, grinning as she takes a bite of the shortbread. Both are equally ridiculous options.
There's a pause before she addresses his question. Talking about her family is - difficult, to put it mildly, but she's doing her level best not to run from her past anymore. "Um, family diner. I worked there from 13 until when I left for New York." Idly, she brushes some of the crumbs from the cookie off the top of the island. "What about you? A whiz at pancakes and no praise for it? There's no way you work in a kitchen."
"A tin can, actually." He admits with a little wink.
He notices the way she pauses and the nervous way she brushes at her top but says nothing, he's an observant fellow but will never push for information unless it's part of his job.
"Me? Nah. Just from a family of servants so you kind of pick up on stuff like that through osmosis."
Karen can't help but let out a laugh at that. "College?" she guesses. Even though she didn't get the traditional college experience herself, she certainly attended enough college parties to know that things can get a little...weird.
Her brow arches with interest when he said he comes from a family of servants. "That's a fascinating family business. How do you like it?" The tea kettle starts to whistle, so she hops up, turning the stove off. She's more comfortable now that she has something to do and the attention is off her past, pouring the hot water into the mugs, adding an earl grey tea bag for his and a winter spice for hers.
He shakes his head, "Never went. We used a tin can for tea a few times when I was in the service."
"That's the first time I've ever had anyone call being from a family of butlers and maids 'fascinating'." Most times people used that against him, to prove how he was going nowhere in life.
"And I'm not in the same line of work, I run a security business."
"Would've been my second guess," Karen answers, smiling as she sets his mug down by him.
She reclaims her seat as she listens to him talk, hands wrapped around her mug for warmth. There's a surprised look on her face at his admission. "Really? Huh. I don't know, I think there's a certain amount of pride in being able to keep a home like that, right? The attention to detail, too. I'm sure everyone in your family's got stories for days."
Leaning back in her seat a bit, she gives him a considering look, though there's a hint of playfulness in her gaze. "Yeah, I can see that. How'd you get into that? After the service?"
"Really? I have that look about me, do I?" He asks, honestly curious about how he comes off to her.
"Well my Dad was certainly proud of himself and his work, he could have gone on all day to you about certain tea arrangements he did for lords but he was about the only one who thought like that, where I come from you're pretty much seen as dirt. Even if you work in a big house."
He takes a sip of his tea, his eyes slightly clouded by thoughts of his father. They had a complicated relationship but Alfred will forever regret how things ended between them.
"After, yes. There weren't a lot of jobs to start with and when I came home there were even less, I worked at a nightclub for a while but then decided to go into business for myself."
"I was joking," Karen admits with a smile. "But I would have added it to my list of guesses knowing you were in the service." It's not uncommon for guys that served to go private, or join the police force. Up around where she'd grown up, construction and landscaping had been pretty popular choices too.
Her mouth turns down in a frown, a furrow in her brow as she listens to his response. Reaching out, she sets her hand on his forearm and gives it a gentle squeeze. Karen's compulsively compassionate, and even though she doesn't know him well, it seems natural to offer that connection when his eyes cloud. "I grew up in rural Vermont. My family was townie trash because we were locals from the not rich part of town." One shoulder lifts in a shrug. "It's different, but I get it. Things that shouldn't matter, people have a way of making them matter."
To add a bit of levity from the heavier topic, when he shares that he worked in a nightclub, she gives him a mischievous smile. "As a bouncer or a dancer?"
Not many people guess at Alfred having been in the army and if they do he is careful to allow them to think he was just in a regular position and not the actual special service unit he spent about ten years in.
When her hand touches his forearm he looks up, some of that troubled look leaving his eyes and he nods. "It's different but still very similar, not a lot of people understand what it's like trying to leave a reputation a whole city gives you behind."
He then snorts at her next comment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "A bouncer, no one would ever pay to see me dance."
Thanks to...well, everything about the way she lives and works, she's met more than her share of people that have been in a special service unit. The secrecy around that kind of service always seems more like a necessity than an understandable byproduct. Karen can't exactly say she's not one to pry, because prying is a good 90% of her job, but she's not one to pull a thread that doesn't need pulling.
She can't help but smile ruefully at the idea of trying to leave a town's reputation behind. "Let's just say I understand that more than you know and leave it at that." If she never sees Fagan Corners again it's going to be too soon.
The smile widens into something more genuinely happy, maybe even a little mischievous when he snorts. "I don't know. You already said something about dancing on tables."
One of her shoulders lifts in a shrug when he thanks her. Not dismissing it, more of a silent - yeah, of course. People that get that understand this kind of thing are rare.
She can't help but laugh at his answer, grinning as she takes a glance at her mug to see how the tea's coming along. Looking back up at him, she answers, light and playful, "yeah, but you've got an outfit in mind, so maybe you've thought about it."
Karen feigns a scandalized face, though she can't help the little smile that's threatening at one corner of her mouth.
"There was a club like that in Vermont. But it was, uh, attached to a bowling alley?" She shakes her head, looking amused. "Huge door, big black curtains. It used to get wild in the parking lot at closing."
Alfred leans back and laughs, the sound is rich and full sounding.
"A bowling alley? Bloody hell, that's a new one on me." He says and then lifts a brow at her, "And how did you know it got wild unless you were there Miss Page?"
She can't help but smile as he laugh in a way that is so obviously genuine. It's a nice laugh.
"It was a weird choice even for the area," Karen agrees, still sounding amused. His question is met with a laugh of her own and she covers her face for just a moment, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "Oh, I've always been really good at finding trouble."
Karen makes a considering noise and presses her lips together, taking a moment to figure out how she wants to phrase her answer. She fishes her tea bag out and leans over to toss it in the garbage bin by the kitchen island.
"More or less. There's really no...making up for the things I used to do. But I figure trying is better than doing nothing, so."
"No, no, thankfully the elderly and infants were spared," Karen answers, sounding both a little amused and a little self-deprecating. She studies him in silence for a moment, deciding whether or not she wants to continue. Sharing more about herself is undeniably a more healthy option than just...carefully compartmentalizing.
"I, uh, used to deal for my ex before I moved to New York. And I was a real jackass to my family." Which is kind of...putting it mildly, and doesn't factor in her father's role in how things happened after her mother died. But there's no part of her capable of recognizing anyone else's fault but her own. "Probably provides some context for why I was in the bowling alley/strip club parking lot at close, huh?"
"I just thought you liked those funny looking bowling shoes so much that you kept trying to nick a pair." He teases lightly but his eyes remain serious and he catches her gaze with his own.
"I've known a few drugs dealers and it's been my experience that most of them do it out of necessity, not because they like hurting others."
A quick, almost wry sort of smile tugs up the corner of her mouth at the joke, like in silent acknowledgment of 'who doesn't love funny looking bowling shoes?' She meets his eyes for only a moment before looking down at her mug to take a careful sip.
"It was definitely a choice," Karen agrees. She appreciates the way people are always trying to - make excuses for what she did, when she tells them about her life in Vermont. But it still doesn't change the reality of the harm she's caused.
It's not so much that he's making excuses for her and the fact that she is willing to admit the harm she's done is admirable, but it's hard for him to judge her harshly when he's killed people.
"We all make dodgey choices from time to time." He says softly, "I guess the important thing is that you learn from it. Which it's obvious you have."
Well, her hands aren't exactly clean when it comes to killing people either. Even though it weighs heavily on her. One was an accident, and one was in self defense.
She lets out a soft hmm, shifting to the side a bit so she can rest her chin on her hand. Finally looking back up at him, she offers a half smile. "I appreciate that. I figure if I can try to be better today than I was yesterday, that I'm in okay shape."
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There's a pause before she addresses his question. Talking about her family is - difficult, to put it mildly, but she's doing her level best not to run from her past anymore. "Um, family diner. I worked there from 13 until when I left for New York." Idly, she brushes some of the crumbs from the cookie off the top of the island. "What about you? A whiz at pancakes and no praise for it? There's no way you work in a kitchen."
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He notices the way she pauses and the nervous way she brushes at her top but says nothing, he's an observant fellow but will never push for information unless it's part of his job.
"Me? Nah. Just from a family of servants so you kind of pick up on stuff like that through osmosis."
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Her brow arches with interest when he said he comes from a family of servants. "That's a fascinating family business. How do you like it?" The tea kettle starts to whistle, so she hops up, turning the stove off. She's more comfortable now that she has something to do and the attention is off her past, pouring the hot water into the mugs, adding an earl grey tea bag for his and a winter spice for hers.
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"That's the first time I've ever had anyone call being from a family of butlers and maids 'fascinating'." Most times people used that against him, to prove how he was going nowhere in life.
"And I'm not in the same line of work, I run a security business."
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She reclaims her seat as she listens to him talk, hands wrapped around her mug for warmth. There's a surprised look on her face at his admission. "Really? Huh. I don't know, I think there's a certain amount of pride in being able to keep a home like that, right? The attention to detail, too. I'm sure everyone in your family's got stories for days."
Leaning back in her seat a bit, she gives him a considering look, though there's a hint of playfulness in her gaze. "Yeah, I can see that. How'd you get into that? After the service?"
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"Well my Dad was certainly proud of himself and his work, he could have gone on all day to you about certain tea arrangements he did for lords but he was about the only one who thought like that, where I come from you're pretty much seen as dirt. Even if you work in a big house."
He takes a sip of his tea, his eyes slightly clouded by thoughts of his father. They had a complicated relationship but Alfred will forever regret how things ended between them.
"After, yes. There weren't a lot of jobs to start with and when I came home there were even less, I worked at a nightclub for a while but then decided to go into business for myself."
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Her mouth turns down in a frown, a furrow in her brow as she listens to his response. Reaching out, she sets her hand on his forearm and gives it a gentle squeeze. Karen's compulsively compassionate, and even though she doesn't know him well, it seems natural to offer that connection when his eyes cloud. "I grew up in rural Vermont. My family was townie trash because we were locals from the not rich part of town." One shoulder lifts in a shrug. "It's different, but I get it. Things that shouldn't matter, people have a way of making them matter."
To add a bit of levity from the heavier topic, when he shares that he worked in a nightclub, she gives him a mischievous smile. "As a bouncer or a dancer?"
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When her hand touches his forearm he looks up, some of that troubled look leaving his eyes and he nods. "It's different but still very similar, not a lot of people understand what it's like trying to leave a reputation a whole city gives you behind."
He then snorts at her next comment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "A bouncer, no one would ever pay to see me dance."
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She can't help but smile ruefully at the idea of trying to leave a town's reputation behind. "Let's just say I understand that more than you know and leave it at that." If she never sees Fagan Corners again it's going to be too soon.
The smile widens into something more genuinely happy, maybe even a little mischievous when he snorts. "I don't know. You already said something about dancing on tables."
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With the matter of home towns tucked neatly away for another day and her shifting the focus back to more amusing matters he chuckles.
"I said I would join you, not that I was good at doing a bump and grind in sparkling pasties and a g-string."
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She can't help but laugh at his answer, grinning as she takes a glance at her mug to see how the tea's coming along. Looking back up at him, she answers, light and playful, "yeah, but you've got an outfit in mind, so maybe you've thought about it."
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"There was a club like that in Vermont. But it was, uh, attached to a bowling alley?" She shakes her head, looking amused. "Huge door, big black curtains. It used to get wild in the parking lot at closing."
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"A bowling alley? Bloody hell, that's a new one on me." He says and then lifts a brow at her, "And how did you know it got wild unless you were there Miss Page?"
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"It was a weird choice even for the area," Karen agrees, still sounding amused. His question is met with a laugh of her own and she covers her face for just a moment, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "Oh, I've always been really good at finding trouble."
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"More or less. There's really no...making up for the things I used to do. But I figure trying is better than doing nothing, so."
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"I, uh, used to deal for my ex before I moved to New York. And I was a real jackass to my family." Which is kind of...putting it mildly, and doesn't factor in her father's role in how things happened after her mother died. But there's no part of her capable of recognizing anyone else's fault but her own. "Probably provides some context for why I was in the bowling alley/strip club parking lot at close, huh?"
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"I've known a few drugs dealers and it's been my experience that most of them do it out of necessity, not because they like hurting others."
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"It was definitely a choice," Karen agrees. She appreciates the way people are always trying to - make excuses for what she did, when she tells them about her life in Vermont. But it still doesn't change the reality of the harm she's caused.
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"We all make dodgey choices from time to time." He says softly, "I guess the important thing is that you learn from it. Which it's obvious you have."
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She lets out a soft hmm, shifting to the side a bit so she can rest her chin on her hand. Finally looking back up at him, she offers a half smile. "I appreciate that. I figure if I can try to be better today than I was yesterday, that I'm in okay shape."
ooc: shall we end this thread here?
"Sounds like a good plan to me."
that works for me! <3