Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

"Hm. Thank you," he spoke, meandered towards the dresser. "It's quite dusty, isn't it?"

She turned pink. It's not * that *dusty… "Would you like me to take care of it, sir?" Surprisingly, she managed to keep the venom out of her voice.

"Preferably," Simcoe spoke, leaving his hat on the dresser for her to deal with. It felt like.. he was purposefully trying to get to her.

She pressed her lips together. "Anything else? sir?"

April settled beside him, entangling their fingers slowly, so as not to startle him. "We're on my sofa. Can you picture it? Where we're facing, where we are?"

"Facing…" Cruz whispered back, "Facing west, the.. Window, there.." He explained in small breaths. He sounded like there were bricks crushing his lungs.

She squeezed his hands. “That’s right, good job, Cruz. Can you picture my face?”

She pressed her lips together. "Anything else? sir?"

"Are you afraid of me?" Simcoe looked her dead in the eyes.

April settled beside him, entangling their fingers slowly, so as not to startle him. "We're on my sofa. Can you picture it? Where we're facing, where we are?"

"Facing…" Cruz whispered back, "Facing west, the.. Window, there.." He explained in small breaths. He sounded like there were bricks crushing his lungs.

She squeezed his hands. “That’s right, good job, Cruz. Can you picture my face?”

"No." He replied. His voice sounded empty.

She pressed her lips together. "Anything else? sir?"

"Are you afraid of me?" Simcoe looked her dead in the eyes.

A shiver shot down her spine, but she stiffened and stood as tall as she could. "No," she replied evenly, not giving him the satisfaction of her fear.

"Then you are suspicious of me." He observed.

"Quite," she responded boldly.

"Why?" A smirk teased his mouth.

"You seem like the type," she retorted.

"Do I really seem like a violent man?" He unclipped the sword sheath off his hip, and set it on the dresser, hand resting on it for a while.

"I never said violent, sir," she clarified, standing up straight and looking at him evenly.

"Ah." He echoed flatly, and looked at her. "I'll be left alone, then," he dismissed her.

She curtseyed and left, hurrying to her room to letter John immediately.

"Miaow," John's cat showed up behind her, tail flagged curiously.

"Boey!" she cried. "You simply won't believe this! And neither will John. Come on, I'm going to letter him right away."

He scampered alongside her towards John's office.

Jane sat down at her husband's desk and began to write to him.

My dearest husband, John.

Oh! I have news. It is neither good, nor bad. It is simply wretched. Today, I welcomed Captain Simcoe into our home, for whom I must house and feed. John, my heart has never ached for you so…

She wrote on, describing the details of Simcoe's arrival and their conversation.

Boey snuck up onto her lap as she wrote, purring away obliviously.

She stroked his fur gently. "Your loving wife… Jane," she finished, looking for an envelope.

John kept his enveloped in a little cubby on a shelf adjacent to the desks.

"Right," she said aloud to herself, remembering where he kept his things. "Boey, get off me," she laughed, trying to ease the cat out of her lap.

The chubby cat reluctantly slid off her lap, giving her a displeased sideways look.

"I'm sorry!" she claimed. "I have to find an envelope."

"myah," the cat chirped upsettedly, then leapt onto a shelf.

Jane smacked her head. "You know your way around in here better than I do!" She looked through the shelves and found the envelopes. "A-ha!" she cried triumphantly. She selected on and turned to retrieve the letter from the desktop.

Boey watched her with vague interest.

She smiled at the cat. "Come on. We're going to go send this to John." She walked out into the foyer.