you won't be misunderstood

let me be good to you!

10 notes

Won’t You Stay for Dinner? (Miss Kitty and Basil Roleplay)

the-games-afoot:

let-me-be-good-to-you:

Settling herself into a chair and crossing her legs, less than impressed with Basil’s rudeness and not entirely ready to accept his apology, Helena folded her arms and waited a few seconds before speaking. Her bosses would be delighted that he didn’t need paying, as it meant more money for them, greedy sods, and if he found James Hope and they got the money out of him, they’d be even happier - that meant they’d be more likely to be nice to her. Thank God this Basil wasn’t a greedy man asking for payment and even more.

“He’s a wastrel, for starts. If you can find him using your nose, sniff the gin on the letter and follow the scent, it’s all he drinks. Dark fur, dark eyes, and his tail is little more than a stump. An accident or a bar fight, he likes to change up the story of how he got it. He’s over friendly with women - if he has a black eye, one of them has said no to him,” she said somewhat pointedly, shuddering as she remembered the time the sleazeball tried to proposition her. “He’s loud, and adores being the center of attention, though he’ll probably be a bit more subdued now he’s gone missing. He loves to threaten fights, but will quickly bow out if taken up on the offer. He has scars on his face - a Glasgow Grin, or half of one at least. Left side. That’s all I can think about him; you’d be best asking my employers for anything else.”

She strained her mind for a few more seconds, trying to think of anything else. Nothing off the top of her head - Basil could question her if he wanted anything else out of her. Shifting in the chair to get comfortable, she felt a sense of awkwardness come over her. This was hardly the best of visits, and it suddenly dawned on her that unless they talked about the case over the dinner she had stupidly volunteered to stay for, it would be naught but awkward silence. Wonderful. Standing up quickly, she unfolded her cloak and began to fasten around her neck after laying her purse on the chair for a second.

“Well. Forgive me for trying to impose, sir, but I think I should be off. Tell your housekeeper I’m grateful for the offer of dinner, but now that my business is done, I need to be getting back to work. Night shift, you know. Thank you for your help. If you need to meet with my employers, they’re free between one and five o’clock in the afternoon - would that suit you?” She questioned as she lifted her purse and glanced towards the door, hoping the aforementioned housekeeper wouldn’t suddenly appear summoning her for dinner. That could get awkward indeed. Looking back to Basil, she hoped he’d answer quickly so she could get going; walking through the streets at a late hour was not what she fancied, and suddenly, she wanted to get home before it was too dark.

Letting her sit first, Basil took the seat across from her. He crossed his legs as well, but in a much less feminine fashion. His elbows pressed against the sides of the chair, and he drummed his paws together. Taking in everything Helena said to him, the Detective stuffed tobacco in the cylindrical container of his pipe, and smoked. Between puffs, he glanced periodically at the ceiling in thought. He had an exceptional memory, and he like a sponge, absorbed all the information. “Hmm…yes. It seems as though he is luring us into something. He knew his presence at the bar would be missed if he left abruptly. He is looking for someone to run after him.” Basil looked up at Helena as she continued to talk. “But the question is…who.” 

As she gracefully excused herself, he requested, “Please don’t go. I usually like someone to accompany me on endeavors such as these. And my associate’s absence has left me rather desolate. Besides, I think best when I talk aloud.” 

Waiting for her to think over her answer, he made his way to an outstretched map on the far left wall, opposite of his work desk.  His eyes scanned diligently over it and a crazed smile drew upon his lips. Spinning on his heal, he grabbed her by the arms and though he tried to sound stern, he looked more amused than anything. “We are going to Soho. It will be quite dangerous, I’m warning you.” 

Basil’s request to stay had suprised her, but his sudden announcement that they were traveling to Soho knocked the wind out of her, and she stood, mouth slightly agape, wondering if the man had gone mad. His grip on her arms was strong, though not painful, and firm, almost commanding. He seemed to be a man used to taking charged, but she quickly wrenched her arms free, folding them and cocking her head slightly.

"Soho? Mr. Basil, have you gone mad? We are going nowhere,” she said firmly, sternly, looking him right in the eye. “It may be well and good for you to go flying around to different places, but I have a job that helps support my family, and frankly, I’ve overstayed my welcome already. I was asked to deliver you the letter so that you could contact my employers, and that is what I have done. Where on Earth did you pull Soho from, anyway?!” She asked, bewildered and bemused and more than a little confused in itself. As far as she knew, the man had never left England; but what did she know? Honestly, nothing. She made a mental note never to accept an extra job from her bosses again, but sheer curiosity prevented her from storming out of Basil’s house just yet; she wanted to know where he got the silly notion of Soho from before she returned to her family for the night, and then on to work.

At least she could say she was having an interesting night though.

(via the-games-afoot-deactivated2012)

10 notes

Won’t You Stay for Dinner? (Miss Kitty and Basil Roleplay)

the-games-afoot:

let-me-be-good-to-you:

Helena couldn’t help the smirk that quickly appeared on her face as the kind old mouse quickly and unintentionally revealed that Basil had been doing absolutely nothing. Oh, God bless the old and the crazy. They were the joys of life. And had she just been invited to dinner?

“If there’s enough to go around, I’d love to stay,” she said with a nod of the head and a smile. The old woman disappeared, and she turned back to Basil while unfastening her short cloak; if she was to stay, best not seem to be in a hurry to get off. And if she could irk Basil a little more, well, life came with little bonuses, didn’t it? Folding it and draping it across her arm, she adjusted her blouse with one hand as she answered Basil’s questions.

“James Hope, and he lives down beside the docks. Like I said, there’s all the information needed in this letter,” she said, retrieving the letter and unfolding it, smoothing down creases before holding it out for Basil to take. “I don’t make it a habit of reading my employers letters, the handwriting is atrocious. Good luck to you making it out. Kindly old woman you have employed here, isn’t she?” she remarked, looking over towards where she had disappeared to dish up the food. “I hope her cooking is as nice as her personality. Oh, and my employers will pay you. Twenty pounds, and a free show at our pub.”

Her face said all of what she thought about that; even she knew it was a bad reward for a worse case, and she seemed almost apologetic for it, even embarrassed she’d had to say it out loud. Looking to get around to another subject, she circled the table they stood beside, still examining what sat on it.

“Didn’t you have a friend last time we met? Somewhat fond of beer, if I remember rightly?”

Basil summarily snatched the paper from her, as soon as she extended the paw that held it. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said how terrible the penmanship was. Smoothing it out with his knee, and squinting somewhat, he looked at it again. It reeked of gin, (London dry to be exact) and there were splatters of it on the edges. It must have been a hectic day at the bar, he mused. 

His eyes darting intently over the letter he nodded towards the direction of his favored armchair. To her he said, “Erm…I-I firstly don’t want money. Secondly, please sit. Prepare yourself to tell me all that you need about this Mr Hope and pray, don’t leave anything out.” The letter entailed nothing new. Just a regular plea for help. To be frank, it was dull. But really this whole thing bored him all the more, but there was something about this showmouse. Something different. 

And good gracious was she still talking?! ”… Shut up will you? I’m trying to concentrate!” He glanced at her, and noticing his rudeness, he apologized in his own way. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be short with you. I’m not fond of chatter while I’m thinking.”

He folded the paper again, laid it gently on the table, and waited for her to elaborate on her knowledge of Mr. Hope.

Settling herself into a chair and crossing her legs, less than impressed with Basil’s rudeness and not entirely ready to accept his apology, Helena folded her arms and waited a few seconds before speaking. Her bosses would be delighted that he didn’t need paying, as it meant more money for them, greedy sods, and if he found James Hope and they got the money out of him, they’d be even happier - that meant they’d be more likely to be nice to her. Thank God this Basil wasn’t a greedy man asking for payment and even more.

"He’s a wastrel, for starts. If you can find him using your nose, sniff the gin on the letter and follow the scent, it’s all he drinks. Dark fur, dark eyes, and his tail is little more than a stump. An accident or a bar fight, he likes to change up the story of how he got it. He’s over friendly with women - if he has a black eye, one of them has said no to him," she said somewhat pointedly, shuddering as she remembered the time the sleazeball tried to proposition her. "He’s loud, and adores being the center of attention, though he’ll probably be a bit more subdued now he’s gone missing. He loves to threaten fights, but will quickly bow out if taken up on the offer. He has scars on his face - a Glasgow Grin, or half of one at least. Left side. That’s all I can think about him; you’d be best asking my employers for anything else."

She strained her mind for a few more seconds, trying to think of anything else. Nothing off the top of her head - Basil could question her if he wanted anything else out of her. Shifting in the chair to get comfortable, she felt a sense of awkwardness come over her. This was hardly the best of visits, and it suddenly dawned on her that unless they talked about the case over the dinner she had stupidly volunteered to stay for, it would be naught but awkward silence. Wonderful. Standing up quickly, she unfolded her cloak and began to fasten around her neck after laying her purse on the chair for a second.

"Well. Forgive me for trying to impose, sir, but I think I should be off. Tell your housekeeper I’m grateful for the offer of dinner, but now that my business is done, I need to be getting back to work. Night shift, you know. Thank you for your help. If you need to meet with my employers, they’re free between one and five o’clock in the afternoon - would that suit you?" She questioned as she lifted her purse and glanced towards the door, hoping the aforementioned housekeeper wouldn’t suddenly appear summoning her for dinner. That could get awkward indeed. Looking back to Basil, she hoped he’d answer quickly so she could get going; walking through the streets at a late hour was not what she fancied, and suddenly, she wanted to get home before it was too dark.

(via the-games-afoot-deactivated2012)

10 notes

Won’t You Stay for Dinner? (Miss Kitty and Basil Roleplay)

the-games-afoot:

let-me-be-good-to-you:

“With all due respect sir, I’d rather not bring my sisters in to a matter which they have no right to be involved in,” she said somewhat stiffly, and rather annoyed, and even a bit upset. The dismissive tone he used, and the almost scathing way he looked at her… well, she had gotten quite a few looks such as that since she had been forced to take on her job, but that didn’t mean they didn’t cut her like a knife. And that line about the police, well, maybe her employer had gone to them. For all she knew, the police had turned their noses up at the thought of it, not wanting to deal with a lost drunk.

“And for all you know, sir, the police are stumped. Do you really think I would waste my time coming here if the law enforcement could find him? I’m taking time out of my day here to come see you, and I’d appreciate it if you could be just a little less condescending,” she said, a somewhat icy edge to her tone. She spent all her nights calling men dear friends and gentlemen, but this was one mouse who was too far from that for her. Pulling the letter away from his hand, she shoved it back in her bag and folded her arms, surveying the desk before her.

“Seeing as you’ll be no help, however, I think I’ll take my leave. Good day to you sir. I hope you treat other customers better than you treat me.”

Or at least, that’s what she said in her head, before marching out and slamming the door behind her. Instead, she just surveyed the work desk, and the papers and microscope and chemicals set out, before gently touching one of the vials, that looked somewhat new.

“I see. You’re too busy for my case. If that’s all, you should have said so, Mr. Basil. May I inquire, what on earth are you actually doing with these things? I thought you were a detective, not a chemist,”

A smirk spread gently across Basil’s mouth. He turned his head slightly to the left side, and looked at her intently. Not with evil or vulgar intentions, but with amusement. He brought his tongue to his upper lip, and merely observed her. “You have a quick and witty tongue, Miss Dingher. Perhaps even some intelligence. And frankly put, I’m sure your employers are idiots. Shouldn’t they know where their own regular would have gone? Don’t take that offensively, nearly everyone is.” He was not acrimonious on purpose…but seriously what more was she expecting from a sociopath? 

Seeing that her gaze was falling onto the assorted bottles, pieces of shattered graduated cylinders, and empty vases of ink, his eyes also followed her trail. Just in case she happened to see something…confidential, perhaps. “It’s an experiment.” His intonation let her draw the conclusion that she should not ask. There was a drawn out pause before the silence was broken by a voice that came from the kitchen. Indeed, the housekeeper poked her head outside the door while whipping her hands on her apron. 

“Well now Basil dear, dinner is ready. Aubergine awaits. Oh and Miss?” Ms. Judson’s attention turned to Helena, “I have to thank you. You got Mr Basil running about again. He was just faffing on that couch in the dumps for quite some time. Won’t you stay to supper?” 

“I’m not eating. Digestion slows me down,” Basil retorted.

Fantastic. Thank you Ms. Judson. Now Helena knew he had free time. He ran his paw through his hair and straightened his tie. He asked with a hint of annoyance, “What was his name, and where did he come from?” 

Helena couldn’t help the smirk that quickly appeared on her face as the kind old mouse quickly and unintentionally revealed that Basil had been doing absolutely nothing. Oh, God bless the old and the crazy. They were the joys of life. And had she just been invited to dinner?

"If there’s enough to go around, I’d love to stay," she said with a nod of the head and a smile. The old woman disappeared, and she turned back to Basil while unfastening her short cloak; if she was to stay, best not seem to be in a hurry to get off. And if she could irk Basil a little more, well, life came with little bonuses, didn’t it? Folding it and draping it across her arm, she adjusted her blouse with one hand as she answered Basil’s questions.

"James Hope, and he lives down beside the docks. Like I said, there’s all the information needed in this letter," she said, retrieving the letter and unfolding it, smoothing down creases before holding it out for Basil to take. "I don’t make it a habit of reading my employers letters, the handwriting is atrocious. Good luck to you making it out. Kindly old woman you have employed here, isn’t she?" she remarked, looking over towards where she had disappeared to dish up the food. "I hope her cooking is as nice as her personality. Oh, and my employers will pay you. Twenty pounds, and a free show at our pub."

Her face said all of what she thought about that; even she knew it was a bad reward for a worse case, and she seemed almost apologetic for it, even embarrassed she’d had to say it out loud. Looking to get around to another subject, she circled the table they stood beside, still examining what sat on it.

"Didn’t you have a friend last time we met? Somewhat fond of beer, if I remember rightly?"

(via the-games-afoot-deactivated2012)

10 notes

Won’t You Stay for Dinner? (Miss Kitty and Basil Roleplay)

the-games-afoot:

let-me-be-good-to-you

Her job within the bar didn’t often ask for much - show a little skin, do a little dance, sing a little song, here’s your money, off you go. But when they asked for a bit more, well, it tended to be for things she wasn’t exactly fond of doing. This was one of them. One of their regulars had gone missing, after racking up quite a tab, and the bartender was just a little bit furious - he wanted his money, and he wanted it now. And he told Helena that if she didn’t get this favor done for him, the money for the tab would be coming out of her wage packet, which was the very last thing she needed. So that night, after her usual show, she had cleaned herself up a little, gathered her clothes into a little bag, thrown her little cloak around her shoulders and hurried off to Baker Street. She had stood for a good few minutes, re-applying a little bit of make-up to make an impression, a new brand than what she usually wore, but it would have to do. Smoothing down her skirt, she finally raised a slightly trembling hand and knocked on the door, quickly shoving Helena Bingham to the corner of her mind and adopting the confident persona of Miss Kitty once more.

The door was answered by someone she was not expecting, an elderly mouse woman who immediately pulled her into the home with exclamations of how cold she was - though the outside air did indeed have a chill within it, she didn’t think it was that cold until she felt the heat inside the abode. Something smelled delicious as it wafted in from the kitchen, but she was quickly thrust into talking to the occupant of the home, who quickly commented on her lipstick. Her hand rose to her mouth momentarily before she cleared her throat and crossed her arms underneath her cloak, speaking in a voice that was far more confident than she felt.

“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Basil. I know you recognize me, but just so we are properly introduced, my name is Miss Kitty, and on the behalf of my employers, I have a case to present to you. We’re searching for a Mr. Arthur Leach, as it appears he owes us quite a lot of money, and is trying to skip out on it. My employer has written a letter explaining the situation,” she informed him as she rifled through her bag, searching for the letter. Finding it and smoothing out the crumpled paper, she moved towards Basil, setting it down next to where his hand was, and allowing her gaze to sweep over the table.

“You seem to be a very busy man, Mr. Basil. I hope this won’t be too much trouble for you - I apologize on behalf of my employers if it is, but they desperately need their money back. Else their staff have to pay it back,” she added, wondering if that would gain even a little sympathy from the mouse who was seemingly made of stone.

Basil turned fully around to the face white mouse. Of course he recognized her. Their first encounter was brief, yet memorable. How could he forget? It was the first and last night he had ever seen Dawson drunk. His calculating eyes taciturnly cut into her purposefully. There was a faint glimmer in the brownness, but it was soon clouded by arrogance. He was slightly insulted that this showmouse would ask him for help. His keen mind shouldn’t be wasted on little problems. His voice was slightly low as he spoke. “I know your name is Miss. Helena Bingham. And Miss Bingham, I have no use for lost drunks. I am a consultant detective. I am only needed when the police are stumped.” He didn’t even bother to glance at the letter she set neatly beside his left hand. 

Since he could read peoples thoughts like a map, he exhaled an exaggerated sigh. She was trying to put on a brave face for him, and he would HATE for Ms Judson to walk in to him making a young lady cry. He could hear her scolding now… Besides Miss Bingham’s pay check depended on it! Still, had they’d thought to firstly call for the law enforcement? His greater conscience nagged him furiously though. It kept saying, “It’s not safe for her to go out alone…” But his aloof and apathetic demeanor took over. 

 “Surly your sisters can help you find him…” 


"With all due respect sir, I’d rather not bring my sisters in to a matter which they have no right to be involved in," she said somewhat stiffly, and rather annoyed, and even a bit upset. The dismissive tone he used, and the almost scathing way he looked at her… well, she had gotten quite a few looks such as that since she had been forced to take on her job, but that didn’t mean they didn’t cut her like a knife. And that line about the police, well, maybe her employer had gone to them. For all she knew, the police had turned their noses up at the thought of it, not wanting to deal with a lost drunk.

"And for all you know, sir, the police are stumped. Do you really think I would waste my time coming here if the law enforcement could find him? I’m taking time out of my day here to come see you, and I’d appreciate it if you could be just a little less condescending," she said, a somewhat icy edge to her tone. She spent all her nights calling men dear friends and gentlemen, but this was one mouse who was too far from that for her. Pulling the letter away from his hand, she shoved it back in her bag and folded her arms, surveying the desk before her.

"Seeing as you’ll be no help, however, I think I’ll take my leave. Good day to you sir. I hope you treat other customers better than you treat me."

Or at least, that’s what she said in her head, before marching out and slamming the door behind her. Instead, she just surveyed the work desk, and the papers and microscope and chemicals set out, before gently touching one of the vials, that looked somewhat new.

"I see. You’re too busy for my case. If that’s all, you should have said so, Mr. Basil. May I inquire, what on earth are you actually doing with these things? I thought you were a detective, not a chemist,"

(via the-games-afoot-deactivated2012)

10 notes

Won’t You Stay for Dinner? (Miss Kitty and Basil Roleplay)

the-games-afoot:

Basil was curled stiffly in a circle on the sofa. Ms Judson was off cooking something for dinner, and she periodically hummed loud enough for Basil to hear over the pots and pans clanging together. He was completely, utterly, and entirely bored. How he loathed being bored! There were in fact meek cases that were presented to him to solve, however he felt none were worth his time. Lying there on the sofa with his robe wrapped around him, he felt like dying. Or perhaps, he had already died, and went to Hell.

Anyway, his ears perked up slightly at the sound of a knock at the door. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Why was she here of all people! Basil jolted up and darted to his work area, and stuffed eyeballs underneath a microscope. He pretended to look busy and gazed at them attentively. 

“Mr Basil, would you go and get the door? I’m a little preoccupied at the moment!” Basil did not answer his housekeeper. She however exhaled a heavy sigh and went to the door where Miss Kitty was behind.

“I’m not home!” hollered Basil.

Ignoring him, Ms Judson smiled at the her. “Oh! My dear, you must be chilled to the bone! Come in, come in,” ushered the elderly lady. Turning to face the slender back of the detective she said, “Mr Basil, you have company. You must excuse me, I have a casserole in the oven.” She took shelter back into the kitchen in a blink. 

Oh joy. A casserole.

Basil craned his neck slightly to the left, and glanced at her with the corner of his eye. It only took him a few seconds to digest every detail of the young lady. Mumbling, he looked back into the scope and mused bluntly, “Your lipstick is freshly painted. Did you just put on a new coat before you entered?” He paused before continuing. “That color you suits you far better than what you normally wear.” Subliminally referring to her…night job it mattered little to him if she took offence. 

(yes I know this is a little premature, but I wasn’t sure of a time I’d get to writing it again this week, so I just figured I’d have it ready for you.)

Her job within the bar didn’t often ask for much - show a little skin, do a little dance, sing a little song, here’s your money, off you go. But when they asked for a bit more, well, it tended to be for things she wasn’t exactly fond of doing. This was one of them. One of their regulars had gone missing, after racking up quite a tab, and the bartender was just a little bit furious - he wanted his money, and he wanted it now. And he told Helena that if she didn’t get this favor done for him, the money for the tab would be coming out of her wage packet, which was the very last thing she needed. So that night, after her usual show, she had cleaned herself up a little, gathered her clothes into a little bag, thrown her little cloak around her shoulders and hurried off to Baker Street. She had stood for a good few minutes, re-applying a little bit of make-up to make an impression, a new brand than what she usually wore, but it would have to do. Smoothing down her skirt, she finally raised a slightly trembling hand and knocked on the door, quickly shoving Helena Bingham to the corner of her mind and adopting the confident persona of Miss Kitty once more.

The door was answered by someone she was not expecting, an elderly mouse woman who immediately pulled her into the home with exclamations of how cold she was - though the outside air did indeed have a chill within it, she didn’t think it was that cold until she felt the heat inside the abode. Something smelled delicious as it wafted in from the kitchen, but she was quickly thrust into talking to the occupant of the home, who quickly commented on her lipstick. Her hand rose to her mouth momentarily before she cleared her throat and crossed her arms underneath her cloak, speaking in a voice that was far more confident than she felt.

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Basil. I know you recognize me, but just so we are properly introduced, my name is Miss Kitty, and on the behalf of my employers, I have a case to present to you. We’re searching for a Mr. Arthur Leach, as it appears he owes us quite a lot of money, and is trying to skip out on it. My employer has written a letter explaining the situation," she informed him as she rifled through her bag, searching for the letter. Finding it and smoothing out the crumpled paper, she moved towards Basil, setting it down next to where his hand was, and allowing her gaze to sweep over the table.

"You seem to be a very busy man, Mr. Basil. I hope this won’t be too much trouble for you - I apologize on behalf of my employers if it is, but they desperately need their money back. Else their staff have to pay it back," she added, wondering if that would gain even a little sympathy from the mouse who was seemingly made of stone.

(via the-games-afoot-deactivated2012)