Time Travel With a Rude English Boy from the Nineteenth Century.
Chapter Two
Dacre’s POV
It was the next morning. I lay down on Payton’s bed, thinking about what happened. Maybe it wasn’t such a revolutionary idea to drag her into my predicament; I had aggravated quite a few powerful people…
I couldn’t believe that she insisted that I sleep on her bed. In London, girls would have swooned if I offered the lesser comfortable place. She wore trousers and lived by herself, and she was very forward in conversation. She was different from any girl in England. In London alone, all the girls were pale and refined, as etiquette instructed them to be. Payton was a golden tan with bright blue eyes and shiny blonde hair. Another thing, she didn’t seem to care how her hair looked; she wore it in a loose French braid that wasn’t securely fastened. She wore loose-fitting clothes and no corset. Payton certainly was a strange girl. I wasn’t certain if I liked that or not.
California was… colorful. Everyone was tanned, and I suspected it was a result of the sun always shining. The citizens wore brightly-colored clothing. The sun rarely was visible in London; it was always a grey overcast. The weather affected the population’s attire, for almost everyone’s overcoat was either gray or black or brown. What a strange place the future was.
Something cold nudged my hand, and I jumped upwards with a start. To my relief, it was only a pewter gray greyhound. “Hello, poppet,” I smirked as I stroked his head. “What a charming dog.” I searched his collar for an identification tag, but there wasn’t one. “What should I call you?” I pondered aloud. “Well, you look like a Basil. Do you like that name?” The dog barked and wagged his tail, so I assumed that was a yes.
“Basil it is,” I cheered as I scratched his head.
“Hey!” I looked up to see Payton standing in the doorway, wearing another pair of tight trousers and a white v-necked shirt underneath of a neon yellow cardigan. Her shoes were the same bright lemon yellow, laced up like shoes from my time by a different design. “What on earth are those?” I asked while gesturing to her shoes.
She ignored my question. “Did you just name my dog?” she asked incredulously. “I’ve spent a month searching for the perfect name, and then you just waltz in and dub him with some English name!”
“If you named him properly before, I wouldn’t have to name him now,” I retorted cheekily.
“Gargh,” Payton proclaimed. “Just… Just get up and get dressed.” She tossed a bundle of clothes at me. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen, just eat it out of the frying pan. Less dishes to clean, anyway. I’ll be in my studio.”
When she left the room, I inspected the clothes she threw at me. A loose, buttonless grey shirt, some black trousers made of a strange material and a black jacket that zipped up with a hood. A snorted in disgust, but put them on nonetheless. Why did Payton have men’s clothes, anyway?
I wandered aimlessly to the kitchen area and saw eggs and bacon in a skillet. Uncomfortably I followed Payton’s orders and grabbed a fork and ate directly out of the skillet. The future was bizarre indeed.
When I finished eating, I placed the fork and the empty skillet in the sink. I wandered the small house and marveled at technology’s advances. In the living room there was a large black screen. Behind it there were cords protruding from the device and into the wall.
Curious, I pushed a button and it flashed to life. Images flickered across the screen, and I shouted in surprise. I hurriedly pushed the button again and the screen became black again. I quickly retreated from the room and into the hallway.
I heard humming and grunting from behind a door. Curiosity won the better of me, and I quietly opened the door. Payton was smeared with oil paint, and there was a tarp on the floor to catch any drips of paint. She was so wrapped up in what she was doing that she missed me walk in and stand in the corner of the room, watching her carefully. In front of her was a painting of vibrant colors depicting brilliant arcs and swirls. The canvas was a large one. I noticed that the swirls were actually the petals of two large sunflowers, rimmed with scarlet, orange and violet. “Ah,” I said as she stepped back to inspect her work. She spun around and nodded, acknowledging my presence. She walked over to the sink and washed off her paintbrushes. As she wet a rag to wipe her face, she said, “I didn't expect you to walk in.”
“I was curious,” I replied coolly, still watching her carefully.
She wiped off her face and dried it off with a towel. “Curiosity killed the cat, Dacre. I’m certain you’re heard that phrase before, even during your, ah, time.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “I didn’t think you believed that I was from a different era.”
She carefully placed the towel next to the sink and retorted, “I don’t. I think you’re either lying to me, or method acting for your next role for a play. Method acting and lying denote the same thing, though. Nonetheless, you can room here if you need a place to stay. I expect you to help me with the rent, or I’ll kick you out.”
I had no idea what method acting was, or how it even remotely related to time travel. “Tomorrow at 11 A.M. you’ll see the device do it’s magic. Patience, Miss Smith.”
“Payton,” she automatically corrected. “And you’d better not split without repaying me.”
I ignored what she said and nodded to her painting. “That’s very good. How long have you studied art?”
“About as long as I’ve studied Martial Arts,” she replied nonchalantly. “Is there anything you take interest in?”
“Thieving,” I replied immideately. “I am the best pickpocket London has ever seen.”
“Method actors,” Payton scoffed under her breath and walked out of the room. “You can just chill and laze around until the magic pocket watch feels better and you can pay me,” she called over her shoulder as she walked into the hall.
The rest of the day Payton spent in her studio and I spent toying with the gadgets of the future. I really had no intention of paying her back, but instead vanishing back to my century while she watched the pocket watch in awe. And then I would become the richest man in London.
Only twelve more hours until my plan could fall into action.
It was the next morning. I lay down on Payton’s bed, thinking about what happened. Maybe it wasn’t such a revolutionary idea to drag her into my predicament; I had aggravated quite a few powerful people…
I couldn’t believe that she insisted that I sleep on her bed. In London, girls would have swooned if I offered the lesser comfortable place. She wore trousers and lived by herself, and she was very forward in conversation. She was different from any girl in England. In London alone, all the girls were pale and refined, as etiquette instructed them to be. Payton was a golden tan with bright blue eyes and shiny blonde hair. Another thing, she didn’t seem to care how her hair looked; she wore it in a loose French braid that wasn’t securely fastened. She wore loose-fitting clothes and no corset. Payton certainly was a strange girl. I wasn’t certain if I liked that or not.
California was… colorful. Everyone was tanned, and I suspected it was a result of the sun always shining. The citizens wore brightly-colored clothing. The sun rarely was visible in London; it was always a grey overcast. The weather affected the population’s attire, for almost everyone’s overcoat was either gray or black or brown. What a strange place the future was.
Something cold nudged my hand, and I jumped upwards with a start. To my relief, it was only a pewter gray greyhound. “Hello, poppet,” I smirked as I stroked his head. “What a charming dog.” I searched his collar for an identification tag, but there wasn’t one. “What should I call you?” I pondered aloud. “Well, you look like a Basil. Do you like that name?” The dog barked and wagged his tail, so I assumed that was a yes.
“Basil it is,” I cheered as I scratched his head.
“Hey!” I looked up to see Payton standing in the doorway, wearing another pair of tight trousers and a white v-necked shirt underneath of a neon yellow cardigan. Her shoes were the same bright lemon yellow, laced up like shoes from my time by a different design. “What on earth are those?” I asked while gesturing to her shoes.
She ignored my question. “Did you just name my dog?” she asked incredulously. “I’ve spent a month searching for the perfect name, and then you just waltz in and dub him with some English name!”
“If you named him properly before, I wouldn’t have to name him now,” I retorted cheekily.
“Gargh,” Payton proclaimed. “Just… Just get up and get dressed.” She tossed a bundle of clothes at me. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen, just eat it out of the frying pan. Less dishes to clean, anyway. I’ll be in my studio.”
When she left the room, I inspected the clothes she threw at me. A loose, buttonless grey shirt, some black trousers made of a strange material and a black jacket that zipped up with a hood. A snorted in disgust, but put them on nonetheless. Why did Payton have men’s clothes, anyway?
I wandered aimlessly to the kitchen area and saw eggs and bacon in a skillet. Uncomfortably I followed Payton’s orders and grabbed a fork and ate directly out of the skillet. The future was bizarre indeed.
When I finished eating, I placed the fork and the empty skillet in the sink. I wandered the small house and marveled at technology’s advances. In the living room there was a large black screen. Behind it there were cords protruding from the device and into the wall.
Curious, I pushed a button and it flashed to life. Images flickered across the screen, and I shouted in surprise. I hurriedly pushed the button again and the screen became black again. I quickly retreated from the room and into the hallway.
I heard humming and grunting from behind a door. Curiosity won the better of me, and I quietly opened the door. Payton was smeared with oil paint, and there was a tarp on the floor to catch any drips of paint. She was so wrapped up in what she was doing that she missed me walk in and stand in the corner of the room, watching her carefully. In front of her was a painting of vibrant colors depicting brilliant arcs and swirls. The canvas was a large one. I noticed that the swirls were actually the petals of two large sunflowers, rimmed with scarlet, orange and violet. “Ah,” I said as she stepped back to inspect her work. She spun around and nodded, acknowledging my presence. She walked over to the sink and washed off her paintbrushes. As she wet a rag to wipe her face, she said, “I didn't expect you to walk in.”
“I was curious,” I replied coolly, still watching her carefully.
She wiped off her face and dried it off with a towel. “Curiosity killed the cat, Dacre. I’m certain you’re heard that phrase before, even during your, ah, time.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “I didn’t think you believed that I was from a different era.”
She carefully placed the towel next to the sink and retorted, “I don’t. I think you’re either lying to me, or method acting for your next role for a play. Method acting and lying denote the same thing, though. Nonetheless, you can room here if you need a place to stay. I expect you to help me with the rent, or I’ll kick you out.”
I had no idea what method acting was, or how it even remotely related to time travel. “Tomorrow at 11 A.M. you’ll see the device do it’s magic. Patience, Miss Smith.”
“Payton,” she automatically corrected. “And you’d better not split without repaying me.”
I ignored what she said and nodded to her painting. “That’s very good. How long have you studied art?”
“About as long as I’ve studied Martial Arts,” she replied nonchalantly. “Is there anything you take interest in?”
“Thieving,” I replied immideately. “I am the best pickpocket London has ever seen.”
“Method actors,” Payton scoffed under her breath and walked out of the room. “You can just chill and laze around until the magic pocket watch feels better and you can pay me,” she called over her shoulder as she walked into the hall.
The rest of the day Payton spent in her studio and I spent toying with the gadgets of the future. I really had no intention of paying her back, but instead vanishing back to my century while she watched the pocket watch in awe. And then I would become the richest man in London.
Only twelve more hours until my plan could fall into action.