earl grey

based during season 4 of the magnus archives

ONE

25-02-2018

Drip drip drip.

The rain patters against the awning. Consistent, loud.

Drip drip drip.

Mindless, tired eyes. Staring, staring, staring. Watching.

People. Passing, hurrying. Escaping the weather. The-

Drip drip drip.

The droplets dot the window, patterns, streaks. Racing, falling, running.

Drip drip drip-

-ing.

The glass. The glass, transparent, clouded. Blurs of rushing figures. In the cold, in the rain. In the wind. Rushing, whipping, freezing.

Drip drip drip.

Safety and warmth. Only blocked by the glass. Smell, scents, calming, familiar, coffee, tea. Light warm, glowing, homely. All at the expense of company. Of boredom.

Drip drip-

-Ring.

The door flies open, the wind, the cold and the rain rushing to join the small figure who wanders in. Elizabeth straightens very suddenly, spurred from her thoughts, brushing down her apron and rolling back her shoulders.

The figure turns out to be a small man. A lot shorted than Elizabeth, and much, much skinnier.

His eyes green eyes are sharp and piercing, jumping nervously around the shop behind his rectangle glasses. He pushes them carefully up his hooked nose before drawing his long, narrow fingers tight around his body. Shrinking as he clutches intensely, hands digging into his over-sized cardigan. Pulling it taught.

He shivers, pursing his thin lips before making eye contact with Elizabeth.

She's very suddenly overwhelmed.

His stare is intense, overbearing. Reading, soaking, knowing, knowing, knowing- she has to tear her gaze away, looking pointedly at the window behind him before drawing a deep breath.

"Hi, can I help you?" She forces out, still very intentionally not making eye contact.

"We'll see." He mutters.

She pauses a second, mouth opening and then shutting. Fuck this guy. She thinks, hands pressing down on the counter below to steady herself.

This sure is going to be... something.

He scans the board, eyes just as intense, retaining every word, drinking it up. It's unsettling, he's unsettling.

They pause, slowing, reading each word carefully. Purposefully, a question unanswered. The answer is there.

He nods, small and tight before looking back at Elizabeth. She does not look back at him.

"One medium Earl Grey." He says, adding very suddenly "To go."

Elizabeth nods, putting it through the till. "Three fifty please."

He steps forwards, hands retracting from their insistent tugging of his cardigan.

He pulls out a wallet with a shaking hand. Up close its easier to see the scars that line what skin is visible. The thin, deliberate line across his throat, as if somebody had tried to slit it. The circular pockmarks scattered unevenly across the brown canvas. And the burn.