III. But I don't like scenes, except on the stage.

[epigrammatical]

[In which Lord Henry treats the text feature as if it were a telegram service.]

[Text, private to Dorian Gray]
[This message is sent after two days' discreet waiting after Toby's arrival. Henry is not blind and definitely noticed Dorian's reaction, but (wisely, probably) did not interfere, and has allowed time to pass before approaching Dorian—and has also been studiously avoiding Toby. He has no idea whether his friend will answer, but even if he doesn't, that will tell him much of what he needs to know.]

Are you well? I do not wish to intrude, of course, but I could not help but notice a certain amount of recent excitement.

[Text, private to Alcuin nó Delaunay]
I hope this finds you well—would you be available to dine or for a drink sometime soon? I should like to hear of your progress with our yellow book.

[Open action nice choice and not so nice, post-trainwreck choice]

[ETA: Disturbing conversations about murder and possible eventual bad behaviour within.]

Comments

[epigrammatical]

[Who is this rude, loud American and who is he yelling at? And he is apparently mad as well, calling for a waiter in a bookshop. Henry pauses in the process of picking up one of the items in Tony's trail of books—just to look at it for himself, surely, and not to put it back—and glances over his shoulder, wondering if the man is calling out to someone behind him. Seeing no one, Henry merely returns his attention to the book with a barely audible sigh, studiously ignoring Tony.]

[iron_ego]

[Tony is not used to being ignored, but then, what can he expect when the owner of this shop has obviously taken pity on the slower minded type in giving this man a job. Diversity, equality, and chances for all; he's all for that (check the Stark Industries mission statement for proof), but it's not helpful when he's looking for something.

He snaps his fingers again and points directly at the slow bloke to make it clear that, yes, he means you sir.]

Books. Science. [He enunciates the words to avoid confusion.] Where are there? Make it snappy. Not all of us have all day.

[epigrammatical]

[For that, Tony gets a nice cold glare and a response in the very driest of tones.]

Forgive me, I thought perhaps you were disoriented and thought it better to let you come to your senses. I'm afraid you'll find that science is not a specialty of this shop.

[There is some, but Henry is now in no mood to be helpful.]

[iron_ego]

[Aw, it sounds like someone doesn't like him. Remind him to send the owner a note for making sure the atmosphere felt 100% authentic.]

Never said it needs to be. [Tony's not providing detail in that regard, instead gesturing at the shelves of books.] There's bound to be something amidst the corset-rippers and self-help titles. Don't hold out on me, friend, pony up the paperbacks.

[epigrammatical]

[It's a measure of Henry's self-control that this gets no significant change out of his expression.]

I am sure that it's occurred to you that science is a broad field, with many subjects contained within. Do you intend to pursue all of them at once?

[iron_ego]

[Henry, your self-control shall go down in history as the most amazing.]

Been there, done that, and all I got were these lousy doctorates. [By his voice, that almost sounds like he got the short stick.] But that's enough about me, so how about we get around to helping me. [Another snap of his fingers.] I'm looking for any and all volumes documenting what this little turtle-topia calls science.

[epigrammatical]

[Henry lets that request hang in the air for a few seconds before finally gesturing toward the (as yet unsorted, Henry being bored with the subject matter) shelf in the back that does in fact contain a few scientific treatises and even a thing or two resembling a textbook.]

There, as you will see, is the extent of Daowei's selection on the subject. I hope it will suffice.

[Funny, when he says it, it almost sounds like the nineteenth century equivalent of "fuck off and die".]

[iron_ego]

[Funny, Tony doesn't speak that. Well, he doesn't react as though he does, instead clapping his hands together quite suddenly.]

I'll take the lot.

[Tony makes no motion to go sorting through it, instead taking out a small, folded parcel with plenty of juulan to be counted and, in the interest of any merchant, spent.]

Wrap them up and have them delivered to FI-3A. Make it snappy and there's a tip in it for you.

[epigrammatical]

[Congratulations, Tony, you have put a crack in Lord Henry's carefully maintained armour. Just a small one, but a crack nevertheless; a smidge of genuine offence leaks through his carefully measured tone. It's probably the word "tip" that did it.]

I beg your pardon, but I am not your errand-boy. I assure you that Daowei see to it that the books are delivered in good order. Will that be quite enough?

[iron_ego]

[Oh my. Should he have called it a 'gratuity' instead? His bad, his bad.]

Yet, you're the one standing here and taking my order. [What a thoughtful expression he's wearing. Tony looks Lord Henry over.] What's he pay you for? Because if it's standing here and looking pretty, I could hook Daowei up with a few ladies that could run laps around you. [No offense.]

[epigrammatical]

[You're going down, Stark. Henry's composure settles back in place, and he almost seems pleasant now.]

It is my pleasure to catalogue and organise the books here, sir. Out of idle curiosity, may I inquire what it is you intend to do with these scientific papers?

[iron_ego]

Pleasure? [Stop, drop, and blink.] Classy. Did you walk out of one of those corset-rippers?

[Who knows, around here.]

Read them. Translate them. Make the occasional paper airplane. In short, exactly what they were published for.

[epigrammatical]

I am from the nineteenth century, which I gather is about as remote to you as the moon is to the earth. [And there's a novel featuring him! Not that he's even remotely about to admit it, though. Thanks, Dorian.]

I see. I wondered if perhaps you were seeking a method to take all the oxygen out of a room, in which case I would have assured you that you need perform no further research on that subject.

[iron_ego]

Nineteenth? No kidding. [Curious. Why bring in someone that old school to save the turtle there's a much better model of sophistication and money. See: Stark. Tony Stark.]

Moon's not that remote. Try asking any baby boomer about Neil Armstrong if you need proof.

[Catch up with the times, sir.]

[epigrammatical]

In the event that other conversational topics cease to interest me, perhaps I shall. Is there anything else that you require of me? As I said, Daowei will ensure that you receive the books in good order, and you may save the tip for the courier.

[iron_ego]

[D'aww, Lord Henry, that seems almost hostile. BFF 5EVAR time!]

A name? I like to know who I'm doing business with. Call it a quirk.

[epigrammatical]

Lord Henry Wotton. [Note the absence of the polite and usually meaningless "at your service".] And you, sir?

[iron_ego]

Henry like the chocolate bar? Quaint.

[What a thoughtful look. Welp. He's just being an ass now.]

Stark. Tony Stark. That's got a bit more bearing than a Lord of O'Henry.

[epigrammatical]

[Henry is used to running rings around other people in conversation. Not vice versa. God help you if you enter this store again, Tony.]

Lord Henry, if you please, Mr Stark. [Americans. Damn them.] Will that be all?

[iron_ego]

[Oh, but he will be back like a bad library book, count on that.]

That'll do for today, Lord O'Henry. [He pauses to put on his sunglasses.] I'll come back in a month to check out the new titles.

[epigrammatical]

Delightful. [Henry will make a point of not being there.] Good afternoon, Mr Stark. You may expect the delivery shortly.

[iron_ego]

Excellent. [And, with a wave and a ciao called over his shoulder, the Stark has left the building.]