Cardiff is a big enough city to have a multitude of people. The train station has people passing through it at many times of day, and today is no exception. Gillian climbs down from the platform, a satchel on wheels dragged behind her and a purse slid over her shoulder.
     Let's see. Loki's train should be here already - we can go to lunch from here, she plans in the back of her head. She's clad simply; black slacks and pale pink blouse, black vest and a perky little pink beret. Her glasses have slid to the tip of her nose. "It should be right over ... here."
     She rounds a corner, glancing around quizzically. She pulls out her phone, checking the numbers.

     Loki walks through a crowd recently divested from a train, eyes more on the phone in his hand than on where he's going. Conditioned by a few thousand recorded repetitions of Mind the gap over the course of his life, he's not yet dropped himself into some unfortunate circumstance by not looking ahead of him. He's a charcoal smudge of lightweight coat and office casual, neither tall nor bright enough to be easily picked out of the crowd. But then, that's what keeping an eye on incoming messages is for.

     She hits the dial button, and it rings on your end. She keeps walking; despite the black, she's a visible target, the strawberry blonde of her hair offset by the pink. "Hey! Loki, where are you? Look for the pink hat, I'm under it." Gillian laughs and continues. "I'm ravenous, what about you? I looked for some recommendations for places - I'm going to beam them to your phone, okay? Pick one."

     Once he bothers to look up from the phone, you're easy to spot. "Heading your way," he says, even as he's sliding a thumb down the recommendations before settling on the one at the end of the list. Sushi in Cardiff should be safe enough.
     The phone disappears once eyeshot is established on both sides. "I skipped breakfast, so I've been running on caffeine all morning. It's a good reason to visit some place that's close and gets us food fast before we both fall over in a heap of starvation."

     "Sounds good." Gillian smiles at you cheerfully, and after dropping her phone back into the cavernous depths of her purse, she slides that arm through yours. "It's so good to see you! You look good, you know? How have you been? I have lots to tell you."
     She looks, briefly, a little nervous, jittery almost. "Yeah, let's get some decent food. And maybe a nice private booth." She lowers her voice, turning her head to speak directly in your ear, "It's important we talk now. I don't know how things will go later."

     I remember the days when the only things my friends were nervous and secretive about were the drugs and people they were doing. As warm memories of the past go, that one is not, after Loki gives it more thought, actually all that nostalgic. "I've been fine," he says, aiming towards the station exit nearest the restaurant. "Private booth, lunch, catching up. Let's do this plan."

     "Sounds good!" Gillian smiles and falls silent until the restaurant is reached and a booth received. She tucks her luggage in under the table, sliding in and swiping off her hat with a sigh as she picks up the menu. "How've you been, anyway?"

     "Up and down." It's easier for Loki to tell you some approximation of the truth in private. "My dad's being a dick about the band thing, but everything else is fine, so I'll cope. It's been good to have Pres around since he got to town." He turns the menu over, scanning the drink list. "How about you?"

     "I'm sorry." Gillian goes quiet for a moment, attention on the menu. "Glad you and Pres are still getting along. I ... hope I haven't led to any problems between you two."
     She pushes her glasses up. "I'm good. Mostly. I think. I'm - will you keep this secret, Loki?" She looks up abruptly, peering over the rims of her glasses uneasily.

     "You haven't caused any problems. He's been a little worried about you, that's all." Loki toys with the menu idly, not particularly wanting to prompt the sudden arrival of a waiter just now. "Yes, I will. I never told anyone about the last secret, did I?"

     "True. It - relates to that." Gillian waits for the waiter to arrive now, turning her head expectantly. She places an order - for drinks and for food both - then turns to you again. "It's if not the find of the century, then it's one of them, Loki. It's major. Massive. So I - I talked to someone. This professor at the university - visiting lecturer from here, actually. Cardiff. And - well, I've set things up, I think, but it's going to be ... different."

     "That's an ominous 'different', Gilly." Loki doesn't look too perturbed by that yet. "So what did you set to keep from having the find taken away from you? Because I'm guessing there's a new secret beyond the one I've already been keeping for you."

     She sighs. "He's going to help me. But I had to do something to make sure he can't and won't betray me." Gillian bites her lower lip. "...We're engaged."

     Loki is quiet a moment while he digests this. "I may be missing something here, but that doesn't sound like an ironclad and unbreakable contract, there. Do you have a solid prenup written up yet?"

     "Not yet. Working on that." Gillian sighs, stretching back as the drinks arrive. She close her eyes for a moment, then reopens them, peering over at you earnestly. "It keeps us from testifying against each other. I - maybe it doesn't make sense, but it felt like the right thing to do. I'm meeting him here in Cardiff later - we're going to meet his parents." She bites her lip.
     Where I'll have to pretend I'm in love with him...
     That isn't said out loud. "I'm - maybe you can meet him. I'd like your opinion anyway. I just - I don't know. He thinks he can get permission so we can be in charge of the excavation. He says he's got contacts."

     "I've seen people get married for worse reasons." Loki looks off towards where food will eventually appear, and back to you. "If you've checked on all the legal issues and this is what works, it's what works. I'd be happy to meet the guy, though I've never claimed to be a great judge of character. If it'd help any, I can recommend a local lawyer for the prenup."
     He leans back, giving you a more curious look. "You come up with solutions to problems that I never would have thought of, that's for sure. How much have you told him already about what you found? Enough that you have to trust him not to run off with the find himself at this point anyway, it sounds like."

     "A local lawyer would be great." Gillian smiles wryly, propping her cheek against her hand. "I ... he's not going to run off with it. I showed him the pictures. I didn't tell him where it is, but I showed him the pictures on my computer. I didn't even give him a hard copy."
     She brushes her fingers through her hair, then picks up her drink. "It'd be impossible for him to run off with it. He'd have to find it. I just ..." She looks forlorn. "I seem to have misplaced my confidence. I don't know where it went, Loki. I need help."

     "It can't have gone far," Loki says, leaning in over the table slightly. "Come on, Gillian. You're the one knows what to do and just does it, and manages the lives of people around you with one hand tied behind your back. I'm not sure I can imagine a Gillian West without confidence."
     He gives you a quick, thin smile. "So here I am with full confidence in your ability to pull all of this off. And a handy set of contact data for some lawyers." He digs out his phone to email that before he can be distracted by other matters. "This is, admittedly, bigger than the kind of thing you've dealt with before. Is it scaling that's the problem? Or that marriage is involved? If you can tell me what's thrown you off stride, maybe I can help with that."

     "Mumsie thinks I should have snagged Balthazar."
     Gillian admits it quietly, and the look she gives you is sad and tired and resigned. She ignores her food and drink, looking as if she suddenly has lost her appetite. "Nothing I do is good enough for her. Ever. I got a Rhodes Scholarship, and all she could do was berate me for moving so far from Pres. It's always all about Pres, you know. I love my brother, but I get tired of being in his shadow. And now..."
     She rubs her face, sliding her glasses up to wipe her eyes. "Now I'm not good enough for her because Maddie's landed a Duke. And she thinks it should've been me. Never mind I don't love him and we have nothing in common."

     "Why anyone from the States should care about aristocratic titles..." The exasperation in Loki's voice is as much on your behalf as for the concept. "There's more sense in marrying to protect a really interesting archeological dig like you are than to marry someone for being able to stick a fancy word in front of their name on official documents."
     He picks up his drink--coffee, of course--before he can go on at more length in a vein that's not likely to make you feel any better. "Ideally, we'd all pursue what we want for ourselves, without caring if it gets our parents' approval. In practice, I, uh, know it's not as easy as all that. For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. You had enough sense to break things off when you saw they weren't a good idea, and that's more than most people manage."

     "I like him. As a friend. And he and Maddie seem happy together. I don't - I don't need more than that. I'd like it if - if I could have somebody who - who loves me for who I am, but ... I've accepted that I won't get that, and I don't need it." Gillian wipes her eyes and picks up her drink. "Anyway, enough about me, Loki. I just - I needed to talk to someone who - who wouldn't get upset at me, or judge me, or think I'm an idiot for doing things my way."

     "And here I am." Loki rubs the bridge of his nose. "You're good at figuring out your own goals and going after them. In the long run, I think that matters more than getting lucky." He grimaces briefly at his own turn of phrase. "No euphemism intended. And I'm available when you want to go over things like this. There's always email if travel and schedules mean it's not convenient for us to meet up to talk, right?"

     "True." Gillian brightens up a bit. "Anyway, I'm meeting him later and we'll be going to meet his family, so - we'll see how that goes. Right? I'm staying overnight in Cardiff, so I'm planning on hitting a couple of academic libraries - I got my advisor to write me a note. Bran says his father has an amazing library, so we'll see if I can get to use it or not as well."

     "I'm sure it'll go fine," Loki says, amiability sinking back into his voice now that you've cheered some. "And if not, there's always hiding in the library as a legitimate excuse for not dealing with people. Doubly so when you're in academia."

     "That's true. I'll see if I can't drag Professor Davies around though so you can get a look at him. I trust your instincts, Loki." Gillian smiles a bit, seeming much better off than a few minutes ago. She makes a face. "He's a bit of a jerk, but - in a way that it's really hard to hate him for."

     "I know the type." Loki takes his cup in both hands, sitting back. He even shares an echo of your smile. "Marrying someone for practical reasons is one thing, but if you hate him, it'd be a lot weirder. The lawyer I'm recommending handled my parents' divorce, but he doesn't just do divorce. What he does know is every in and out of marriage law in this country, and the States, and what happens when people from those respective countries marry each other. Or stop being married. So get your advice and prenup from him, and you'll be in good hands."

     "I don't hate him. I just don't - I don't know how I feel about him. Do you have his number handy? I can get it from you later if not." Gillian sighs, settling. "So, enough about me. What've you been up to lately? How's Pres? How's Maddie, for that matter?"

     Loki holds up his phone. "Sent it. Check your email later." The phone disappears while he picks idly at his food. "I haven't been doing much. Band practice, hanging out with Pres, the usual. Pres seems to be doing better now that he has some space and there's actual progress on fixing his leg. Maddie is head over heels in love, but less annoying about it than most teenage girls I've known." He quirks half a smile. "There, executive summary. I can expand on the bullet points if you want."

     "Great, thanks." Gillian props her chin on her hands, listening to everything. "Mostly I want to know how you guys all are." She looks a bit wistful. "I know I'm not ... with it, you know. So there's not much point in me pretending to be anyone I'm not. But I miss you guys."

     Loki points to you with the end of his chopsticks. "We're all in the same country, and it's not even a very big country. Once everyone's back from this string of visiting, we should get together for dinner some time. All three West siblings, the non-West hanger on, and absolutely no parents involved. You'll get a better idea of what Pres and Maddie are up to hearing it directly from them."

     "It seems kind of funny, really, how we all ended up in Wales," Gillian comments. "But I guess it's not that odd that I'd end up 'dating' a professor from Cardiff. If you can call it dating. What about you?" She glances sidelong. "Are you and Pres..."

     "Not dating." Which leaves a lot of room for interpretation, none of which Loki cares to address right now. "So what's your professor a professor of? History, archeology, something like that, I assume."

     Gillian looks disappointed, but nods. "History. Archeology too, I think. Roman history, specifically - so it was serendipitous that I met him when I did, you know? He's actually an expert on exactly what we've found..."

     "That's--convenient." And I've been spending too much time around supernatural types when I want to put "suspiciously" in that sentence. Loki reaches for the dessert menu at the table. "Serendipitous, anyway. I suppose this country must produce a lot of Roman specialists in its history departments, for obvious reasons. There's not nearly as much call for digging up Roman ruins off in El Paso or Wichita."

     "Right. It's a matter of what you run into." Gillian is blithely unsuspicious - unaware, more like. She smiles at you across the table. "I never was very interested in our own country's history, though, you know? So ... I guess it's luck. Of a sort."

     Loki shrugs. "Vikings land, Pilgrims land, genocide, genocide, revolution, expansion, genocide, two world wars, cold war, the internet arrives and people stop paying attention. I don't blame you for the lack of interest. I'd find Roman history more interesting too. In any case, might as well take what luck comes your way. You know better than to trust it blindly. That's why we have lawyers."

Posted by rowan at May 23, 2009 10:53 PM