The Universe TV

Universe One: Teacups

The sun beat down on Jane's head as she sat across from her friend, who was pouring herself another cup of tea while the two discussed the controversial matter of the Odinsons. A few weeks ago, the house next to Jane's had been empty, looking sparse and lonely with no light of life bustling in the yard or inside. The previous owner, Mr. Fitzgerald - may he rest in peace - passed on during his sleep and, having no children, left the house to stand on its own, abandoned. Jane was saddened when the old man passed away. She enjoyed her talks with him, even though the two would only converse when both were outside and she happened to see him over the little, white picket fence separating their yards. Nonetheless, she felt close to him in a way, like the sense of having an older uncle or distant grandfather, and she detested seeing his hard worked garden left to rot. Soon she decided to tend to his flowers, making sure they remained as beautiful as ever. It went on like this for days into a couple of weeks - her with watering can in hand and gloves clutched in the other, making her way over to her neighbor's yard and carefully sprinkling water on the daisies and daffodils, banishing nasty weeds. The task wasn't too difficult and she enjoyed tending the lonely garden bordering late Mr. Fitzgerald's house. She would've happily continued her work, if it weren't for a week ago when her work was rudely interrupted.

Plucking weeds, watering flowers, same old routine she did every day. She was in the midst of it, when she felt a chill pierce the air. It was as if suddenly the air around her was sucked of life, leaving nothing but a sharp cold. A shadow fell over the pansies. Jane looked up and was startled to see a young man was standing - more like towering - over her. His eyes were regarding her with what looked like contempt, which only fueled her anger towards him for being there.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice immediately tipping her off to an English accent, prompting her to wonder just what this English snob - he must be a snob with how finely dressed he was out here in the country - was doing in her - Mr. Fitzgerald's - garden.

The question pricked Jane's spine irritably. "Weeding," she replied curtly, hoping her frosty tone would drive him away.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, not moving an inch from his spot. "This isn't your house."

Jane hadn't lifted her head as she went back to ripping up weeds. "You aren't from here. How would you know it's not my house?"

"How do you know I'm not from here?" he shot back, seemingly to have taken root right there.

Gripping her watering can, she tipped it over a patch of lilies, gently cascading them in a shower of water. "Your accent," she replied briskly, again hoping the edge in her voice would signal him to leave.

"Where do you think I'm from?"

Jane found a particularly interesting weed and focused her attention on it profusely, not giving the man a glance. From the corner of her eye, she caught the lining of black shoes surrounded by unkempt grass. "Where else, but England? You have an English accent, don't you?" she snipped maybe too sharply, but she couldn't care less. She wanted this man to leave her alone.

There was a pause and Jane couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he was studying her. She hastened to grab her watering can again only to be intercepted by the man whom suddenly grabbed it away from her. She whipped her head up in bewilderment. "What do you think you're doing?" she seethed, gritting her teeth.

Now that she was looking at him - really looking - she saw that he had black, slicked back hair that curled outward at the base of his neck and he had menacing blue eyes that reminded her of a frozen lake - boding, unwelcoming. His dark green suit - which by itself was a dead giveaway that he wasn't from around here - was tailored to fit him snugly as were his dark slacks, and a splash of color lit around his neck in a blue tie, drawing her attention to his narrow face. Jane decided she did not like him.