[for Wilson]

[alanshore]

It had been a week, by Alan's reckoning, and the novelty had begun to wear thin. True, snow was always best when it was newly fallen (it was usually only two days before a pleasant flurry was transformed into piles of gray slush), but here, as the snow mounted, so did Alan's sense of entrapment. The compound looked large only from the outside.

Comments

[real_buzzkill]

Wilson was making a peanut butter sandwich when Alan came in, angrily stabbing a spoon into the jar, globbing the stuff onto his bread, and then he looked at it, kind of grossed out. He'd noticed a few people looking at him over the last few days and wondered what assumptions they were making about him. Wilson couldn't think about this matter with a clear head.

He poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Alan. "I think I need some legal advice," he said.

[alanshore]

Setting down the bowl of fruit salad from which he'd been picking slivers of mango, Alan took the coffee with a nod of thanks.

"I see," he said, sipping from his mug and wincing as the beverage burned his tongue. "If it's blackmail you're interested in, you've come to the right person."

[real_buzzkill]

Wilson sputtered, slightly nervous. "I don't think blackmail will be necessary," he said. "I've got... woman troubles." He rubbes his hand through his hair and sighed. "I haven't told anybody, not even my closest friends. Back home we'd both be under formal confidentiality guidelines, so I think I can trust you with this information."

He was grateful to be able to talk to somebody from his own time and social stratus, it would save a lot of explaining.

"Have you met Death? I mean, the human Death, the one who's here on the island."

[alanshore]

Tamping down on the temptation to ask, 'is anybody dead?', Alan motioned James to a seat. "I'll abide by attorney-client privilege. What I can remember of it."

With a glance at the door--the kitchen wasn't the ideal locale for such a discussion, but for the moment they were alone--he sat. "In addition to that, you have my word."

For whatever it was worth. Exchange rates and all that.

"No. I haven't met Death of any variety," he said, unable to suppress a telltale twitch of the mouth.