shatterverse | (no subject)

"Hello," Oliver greets, and if it's not an overly enthusiastic greeting it's because his attention is split between the horse, the girl, and the new person.

Beau snorts, shaking his mane when the strange metal thing slows. It takes a Command from Oliver to keep him walking peacefully.

"Hello!" says Bridgette, giving the eyepatch more of a stare than is polite. "You're new, huh?"

"Yeah." Wry: "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, I live at the farm and I only seen you around the other day," Bridgette explains. She falls silent, her expression going more private, thoughtful. She used to be a lot more afraid of men, she remembers. She wonders what happened to change that.

Oliver, after glancing at the normally talkative young girl, picks up the slack. "You only saw him around the other day," he corrects fussily. "Ah, this is Bridgette Dubois, and I am," he hesitates a fraction of an instant, "Oliver Wycliffe."

"And Marie," Bridgette adds, gesturing to the area in front of her. The area of completely thin air. "And this is Beau," she adds, patting the horse.

"Nice to meet you all. I'm Neil."

The car is moving at a snail's pace by now. He checks behind him for approaching traffic-- clear all the way to the horizon, as usual-- and stops.

Again with the lack of surname. Oliver despairs of ever understanding any culture not his own.

"Well met indeed, sir. Has someone given you a tour of the farm?" Oliver asks. A Godsworn is ever at another's service, after all.

"Not yet, no. I was only there for a short while-- as long as it took Steve to fix my car up."

"Oh? Perhaps I might be of service--"

"But what about my--!" Bridgette whines.

"-- Er, yes, after your riding lesson, Miss Dubois," Oliver corrects himself, with the unsure air of one who doesn't deal with children much.

"Good."

Neil grins.

"I'll take you up on that next time I'm in the area."

"Where are you headed?" Oliver asks.

"Nowhere in particular."

"Ah," Oliver replies, and in that one knowing syllable manages to express his intimate familiarity with the concept of wandering.

Bridgette asks, "If you're going by a store, could you pick up some more chocolate bars? And Sunny D?"

All for the good of the farm, of course.

"Sure thing."

Cute kid. He can't help smiling.

Bridgette beams! "Thanks! Y'hear that, Marie? Now you can finally stop bugging me."

"Careful," Bridge lectures, looping an arm around thin air in front of her. "Don't wanna fall off. Keep your hands on the saddle here...."

Oliver watches this with the embarrassment of seeing someone you know doing something bizarre - milder, in his case, since he doesn't know her that well. He glances at Neil and gives a small shrug. Kids be crazy.

"Who's Marie, Bridgette?"

"She's my sister. She's got the same blonde hair as me, it's just that our eyes are kinda different, 'cuz hers are brown and mine are blue."

Bridgette has given up explaining that Marie is invisible, since she's realized people assume that anyway.

"I'm ten." The ten year old who looks eight. "She's three. Which means," a faint roll of the eyes, her own version of 'kids be crazy', "That I gotta stop her fallin' off horses."

"Okay."

He tells himself it's just a kid with an invisible friend.

"Seems like you're doing a good job so far."

"Yep!" Bridgette replies, face breaking out into a big grin. People don't tend to appreciate how hard she works caring for her ghostly sister.

"So, riding lessons, huh?"

A glance to Oliver, assessing the relationship. It's obvious the kid's not his, but there's another connection and it's not exactly teacher to student. Uncle? Family friend? Or just one of those friendships the apocalypse seems to facilitate?

"Yeah," Bridgette replies, "I kept bugging him to let me ride his horse, and finally he said sure - though we don't get to go fast," she adds.

"You'll go faster when you've proven you can handle Beau at a walk, Miss Dubois," Oliver says, and he's said that a lot today. "She wore me down, I'm afraid," he says, with a small, tired smile.

The short story: student/teacher who have to see each other every day and have learned to tolerate each other.

The long story: After a rather disastrous attempt to lock up the weapons Bridgette received at her birthday party - Oliver was both scolded for it, then Bridgette stole the key to his chest and got her weapons back anyway - Oliver decided that he might as well see that the child learns some more feminine skills. Fortunately, Bridge has always wanted a pony. Thus, an alliance was born, though Bridge still thinks Oliver is a boring meanie-pants and Oliver still thinks Bridgette is an extremely troubled young girl who needs more supervision than she currently gets.

"I see," says Neil, and pretty much does.

He also sees that Oliver gets worn down quite a lot, either by Bridgette or by unknown forces.

Oliver's still working on the whole 'murderer of werecreatures who actually have souls' thing. He's tired in general lately.

"I've been walking with him this whole time!" Bridgette points out, scowling at the UNFAIRNESS OF IT ALL. "You've seen me, right?" she asks Neil.

"I have seen you walking, yes, although I haven't been here for very long so I'm not sure I count."

This is by way of being diplomatically neutral. Let's see how well it works out.

Oliver seizes on it. "We only just started our lesson." Thank God. "I assure you, Miss Dubois, no equestrian has ever gone past walking in their first lesson. You need time to get to know the horse, the horse needs time to get to know you--"

Bridgette interrupts. She has a low boredom threshold. "Well, if I gotta walk....Where're you from?"

Genial: "Who, me?"

"No." Eyeroll. "The car."