boxbot | voicetesting

[ Eventually someone is going to tell him that Credence doesn't smile all the time, and Percival will be briefly confused.

As it is, he doesn't notice the staring as he's already gone into the hall, looking first left, then turning right. ]

There's a dining hall and an attached garden.

[ Though he does frown to himself, adjusting his stride so that Credence is more alongside than behind him. ]

Have you been taking all of your meals in your room?

[credence catches up rather quickly, and slows down rather abruptly. he shrugs.]

They brought me my meals.

[nobody had ever brought him food before. he'd thought it was nice...]

Are we allowed in the garden?

[or is it for vegetables and medicines? he's pretty sure that plants go into potions. he'd seen them advertised.]

No one has stopped me yet, but there may be a first time for everything.

[ Percival shoves his hands into his pockets and shakes his head a little as they continue, nodding pleasantly to any nurse or healer they pass on their way.

A few startle, surprised to see him up and about (and slightly rumpled) or perhaps more surprised to see him up and about with Credence, but no one moves to stop them.

The dining hall is more of a room than a hall, but large double doors are open wide to the attached garden area. Percival glances in that direction, but chooses to sit instead. ]

What sort of food do you like? [ Besides bacon, he presumes.]

[credence ducks into the chair next to mr. graves, almost smiling again. both goldstein sisters had asked him this question, but he wasn't expecting it from mr. graves. maybe it's just a common topic of conversation. everyone does eat. he doesn't really have an answer.]

Good food?

[a nervous, almost-giggle. and then, a little too quickly:]

What about you?

[ It's not a bad answer exactly, but it does have Percival's eyebrows up once more, softened by the small smile in response. ]

I'm fond of eggs à la Benedict, for breakfast, anyway.

What sort of foods don't you like?

[ That might be an easier place to start. ]

[his smile widens at mr. graves' persistence and he tries very hard to think of a more specific answer.]

...boiled mutton? Stewed carrots? Turnips?

[of course most of the food he remembered eating before the hospital had in retrospect been bad, because mary-lou barebone didn't believe in things like 'salt,' 'herbs,' or 'complimentary flavors.']

I think most food would taste good if you cooked it the right way.

[now it was his turn to ask the question.]

What foods do you not like to eat?

You're probably right about that, but I'm not certain any amount of creativity would save boiled mutton and stewed carrots.

Glazed turnips, however. Not terribly bad, if there's enough butter involved.

[ A man in a uniform comes and asks for their order; Percival lets Credence choose for himself, but orders coffee for the both of them alongside his eggs à la Benedict, and requests the day's paper.

When he leaves, Percival tilts his head. ]

I'm not fond of tomatoes.

[credence's eyebrows knit together. tomatoes, in his opinion, are one of the few vegetables not totally ruined by incessant boiling, and therefore infinitely valuable when you are living out of what can be charitably described as a soup kitchen.]

Tomatoes have a flavor, unlike turnips.

[because it's technically the afternoon, he orders a turkey sandwich. they seem to have invented brunch.]

Do you like tomato sauce?

[ He tilts his head from side to side because he can't say that Credence is wrong exactly, but then he shrugs. ]

They do, but it happens to be a flavor I'm not terribly enchanted by. So no. Not even sauce.

[ Nor juiced with vodka, but something tells Percival that Credence wouldn't have much experience with that and might be made uncomfortable by the mention.

It's only a minute before the food essentially appears before them right out of thin air, along with necessary implements, coffee, and more iced water. After having not eaten anything properly in some time, Percival is not expecting the way his stomach threatens to turn with the smell of hollandaise. Ignoring it in favor of black coffee seems like a much better idea. ]

[credence is currently of the opinion that all of mary-lou barebone's beliefs are wrong, including those on temperance. it's a good thing she never bothered to preach against anything dangerous. he smiles quietly to himself when mr. graves sips his coffee, having correctly predicted he'd take it black. for his part he adds cream (real cream! probably. sniffing it would be rude) and sugar, and then hesitantly another sugar. he stirs and schools his face into a deadpan expression. it's not much different from his ordinary serious expression, but he's trying.]

It doesn't taste the same as regular tomatoes. You should try the spaghetti.

[he looks at mr. graves very seriously.]

They let you get the sauce on the side.

[ Percival notices the shift in expression. He isn't sure what it means, exactly, but it seems worthy of note - then again, he doesn't know Credence all that well, so every detail is worthy of note at this point.

And then Credence deadpans at him that he should eat plain pasta with sauce on the side.

Percival snorts into his coffee. ]

Mhm. [ Give him a second, it's not often he's startled into amusement. ] And then if I don't like it, well. Plain pasta.

[credence grins into his coffee, holding his cup over his mouth a little longer than he needs to in order to maintain the illusion of being deadpan.]

They also give you cheese.

[he made mr. graves laugh. this is the best day of his life.]

[ Percival can feel his expression doing...Something. Something amused, something fond, something thankful. He doubts anyone else he speaks with today, in the coming days, will be in a position to make him laugh.

If they even think to make an attempt. ]

Dry cheese and plain pasta.

[ A quirked eyebrow. ]

I'll try it. If. You try roasted turnips.

[ Feeling pleased with this proposed arrangement, Percival takes another drink before cutting into his poached egg with a fork.

It's easier, he finds, to keep his eyes on Credence than on the way the yolk pools on the plate. ]

[that sounds like, if not an actual date, at least dinner plans. too quickly:]

I will.

[roasted turnips honestly seems too easy? although credence thinks plain pasta is still delicious, and he's gotten the worse end of the deal. mr. graves might be a little bit of a picky eater, which is another new thing to know about him, and somehow kind of charming.]

Tonight?

[is that too much?? credence has literally never done anything like this before. he looks down into his coffee again.]

It doesn't have to be tonight.

Why not?

[ It's an honest question, even if Percival himself can think up any number of reasons why it might not be the most..appropriate, he supposes. But giving Credence a chance to think it over also provides him with a chance to make an actual attempt at eating the food in front of him.

It doesn't go poorly, but he does have to eat a bit more slowly than usual. ]

I'm sure will be a long day.

[credence glances back and forth between mr. graves and his coffee.]

In case there was someone else you wanted to see. I'll still be here for--a while.

[he sets his coffee back down carefully and rests his hands on either side of his plate.]

A lot of people came to see you. I think your family was upset the nurses took your...mead?

[some kind of beverage? he wouldn't have thought anybody drank mead anymore but he realizes he has no idea what people do drink. whiskey? he picks up half of his sandwich and examines it. it has a toothpick in it. he takes the toothpick out and sets it on the plate.]

[ Another bite hovers between plate and mouth as Percival blinks at Credence. Of course his family was here; Serafina would have notified them, before the news got out, or she would've had them in her office. And of course they made a scene.

Of. Course. He sighs and sets his fork down. ]

That would have been Marguerite. Maybe her husband, Alden. I'd apologize for them but I'm afraid I've fallen out of the habit.

With any luck I can put off their visits until I've been allowed to go home. [ Which is another possible wrinkle; he's not sure what state his home is in or what Grindlewald may have done to it. ] The president will come today, at least; that business will take time to deal with.

[credence's mouth twists--he knows about not wanting to see your family, but he thinks they seemed sweet, in their own way. he wonders how much mr. graves knew about the second salemers, and if he's associated them with credence yet. he probably wouldn't joke about his family if he knew the whole story. he's going to find out eventually. credence isn't sure how he feels about that.]

They seem like they care about you.

[he realizes he's still holding his sandwich, and takes a small bite.]

They do.

[ And yet. Percival returns his attention to his own food, noting the quiet response, the small bite, and wonders again where are Credence's people?.

He'll just have to ask someone. Someone else, obviously. ]

And I care for them a great deal, but we are very...different, in temperament. My sister is a very loud person, used to getting her way by any means necessary, including winning shouting matches and throwing our family name around.

[ There's a gesture there, that could be read as a shrug. ]

[credence can tell mr. graves is also used to getting his way, if not perhaps by the methods described. he gives a small smile.]

Your family name?

[he's curious as to what this means in the wizarding world.]

Edited 2017-07-01 06:44 (UTC)

The Graves came from Roanoke Colony in North Carolina to Virginia in 1589. There weren't a lot of magical families in the early colonies, so. There is that.

[ Another few bites. ]

The earlier a family arrived, and the longer it remained in any sort of social or political position power - they've been mostly one and the same, honestly - the more clout the name alone carries, even today. Add to that the fact that there has been an auror within MACUSA since it's beginnings, with Gondulphus Graves, and you end up with quite the reputation before you're even born.

[virginia. he didn't predict that. credence raises his eyebrows. mr. graves seems so...uptown. but maybe all rich people do.]

You're from Virginia?

[wait--he gives a startled almost-laugh.]

Ma used to say the witches did Roanoke.

[he...honestly thinks it's kind of funny that one of what he always considered to be the second salemers' wackier theories has any relation to the truth, however misinterpreted. you learn to take humor where you can find it sometimes. he kind of wants to hide behind his sandwich though.]

Edited 2017-07-01 19:03 (UTC)

The oldest family estate is in Virginia, yes, though I spent most of my childhood in New York before I went to school and Ilvermorny.

[ At the mention of his 'ma' Percival's mind does an odd skip. More details fall into structure; he remembers reading an early report on the Second Salemers, specifically about that detail regarding Roanoke, he remembers mention of three children, he remembers telling Goldstein to be careful observing, because her anger at the woman's...everything was palpable.

He blinks. He sips his coffee. ]

Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

[ He gives Credence a small smile. ]

Has anyone given you a proper history book? Newspapers are useful, in a sense, but without historical context some things may be more difficult to grasp.

[credence blinks.]

No--I mean, Miss Tina said she'd order me textbooks, but you didn't really make everybody disappear, right?

[this is so distracting that he doesn't register mr. graves' smiling at him until several seconds after the fact. he flushes and looks down at the sandwich he's still holding. he sets it back down on the plate.]

Sorry. What's...Ilvermorny?

[it sounds like a university for wizards.]

No. Not...exactly.

There was...a conflict, between the two wizarding families who came there, historically, and the native people, who had very little divide between those who could practice magic and those who could not at the time. Add to that the issues of getting supplies from back home across the Atlantic while keeping the other colonists in the dark about what was happening...

[ Percival sighs, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his coffee. ]

It was, simply, a series of disasters in a few short years. Bad storms, near starvation, and mass hysteria do not make for a good combination. There weren't many No-Maj's left, when my ancestor left the colony behind, but they were unwilling to accept his help.

[ There's a raised eyebrow at the ignored sandwich. ]

It's the wizarding school, in Massachusetts. You attend from ages eleven to seventeen, and learn the history of our world.

Edited 2017-07-01 21:12 (UTC)

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I THOUGHT I HAD SUBMITTED THIS AND IT TURNS OUT i didn't

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should've said "at" not "and" LMAO AND THEN I FORGOT TO ANSWER THE OTHER QUESTION go me