awhitecrow | Second Prayer - written / action

[The temperature outside has dropped dramatically, and that means Jonathan Hollom finds it perfect weather to make stew.

The supplies for it are still on the counter, organized but spread out, and a pot is on the stove, simmering. The dish is a bit Irish... but he doubts his housemates will mind. Pieces of lamb have been seasoned and added to vegetables in the pot.

He's nearly done preparing it-- only five or six hours of staying on the stove to finish it off. And so he can keep an eye on it (once the mess from preparing it is cleaned), he has brought his Bible and notes on another not-quite-sermon he's prepared. It's something to occupy him, nothing more.

He has his Journal out as well and, between stirring the stew again and putting away the supplies, he writes a quick message.]

A very generous group of young ladies has allowed me to stay in their home. In return, I am trying to make myself useful, particularly by providing them with meals.

I would be obliged if anyone had recipies they might share.

Jonathan

[It seems only polite to sign his name, and... nearly everyone in those house had insisted on being called by their Christian name.]

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[This is the admiral being informal.

And, some might say, long-winded.]

Much obliged.

[...And he probably ought to properly introduce himself. As properly as he could over this thing and without giving away more that might get him a rope around his neck for desertion.]

Hollom, sir. [An admiral oughtn't be expected to call him by his Christian name, after all.]

Well? Which is it, boy? Mr. Hollom Johnathan or Mr. Johnathan Hollom?

[And the tremor in the writing is a little more pronounced.]

I'm sorry, sir. Jonathan Hollom, sir.

Very well.

[This is going about as well as his introduction to one Archie Kennedy -- the main difference being that this time his severity was a conscious parody of himself. A joke. Perhaps the joke did not translate well through the written word.]

A new feather are we Mr. Jonathan Hollom?

[He certainly didn't recognize the name.]

Edited 2012-01-31 02:03 (UTC)

Yes, sir. Arrived early this month, sir.

Ah. Yes. I do hope that your arrival was -- without incident.

Jilly [it feels strange to speak so formally of a woman to an admiral] helped me, sir, when I first arrived.

I myself awoke on the shore, soaking wet and quite bedraggled. It was a frightful business.

[So, perhaps it had been Jilly that had invited him to the house. Miss Summers had been so woefully sparse with her details.]

I arrived in much the same state, sir.

[There is a pause in the writing at this. Admiral Norrington harbors certain expectations as to the reasons why he himself arrived here in that particular manner.

Might this man, too, have died at sea?]

And in January. My regrets.

Edited 2012-01-31 02:24 (UTC)

I have Jilly and Buffy to thank for being here to write to you, sir. I am grateful to them.

Interesting -- that you should assume my acquaintance with these two young women.

Sir? You know Miss Summers, don't you? I'm sorry, sir, to have presumed.

Not at all, not at all. They are well loved in this place.

[This may or may not be a warning of sorts.]

As is Miss Swann.

[And that one is definitely a warning, but like the joke its force is muted somewhat by the paper on which it is written. Were he speaking, however, there would be no question.]

Edited 2012-01-31 02:46 (UTC)

I can imagine they would be. They are... very good women. I am forever in their debt, sir.

And I trust that you are a man who prides himself on paying his debts, yes?

And in full?

Edited 2012-01-31 02:54 (UTC)

Yes, sir. I will do all I can, sir.

Yes. I rather think you had better.

Yes, sir.

Second Prayer - written / action

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[written] (Hahah. Lets pretend I didn't mis-spell his name up there, shall we?)

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[written] (Thaaats the spirit.)

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