Mystery

Date/Timing: 15 January 2006
Setting: Hermann's former dorm room, UoM; Manchester, England, United Kingdom
.
Bakshish stops the box-toting parade outside Hermann's (former) room, gives everyone a meaningful look.
Edan, Iggy, and Rhys look back.
"Everyone knows the plan?" Bakshish puts the key in the lock.
"Yep."
"Yea."
Rhys grunts.
"And /what's the plan?" Turns the key.
"Do whatever Iggy says," say Rhys and Edan in chorus.
Iggy and Bakshish roll their eyes and Bakshish opens the door.
They trump in, Edan last of all.
The room looks exactly how it did the morning before the holidays, though the air's gone stale.
Edan sighs as his heart sinks and he sets the care package on the bed ....
Bakshish says—
Edan startles.
—"Iggy, closet. Swansea, books—"
"Why do I have to to do the heavy bit?"
"Because I say so and I'm in charge."
Rhys grumbles in Welsh.
"Reid, you get the dresser and I'll take the washroom."
Edan schlumps over, grabs a flattened box from the stack, assembles it with help from the roll of tape around his wrist. He takes a deep breath and tugs open the bottom drawer.
Empty.
He shakes his head, moves to the next drawer higher.
Bed linens, light jumpers, thin socks.
Into the box goes the neat stack of sheets.
He picks up a couple of jumpers; the tag catches his eye.
On a sewn-in label, in laundry marker, someone's written
- Brown -
He raises an eyebrow and checks the next jumper.
- Navy -
"He's got a colour chart for his clothes!" squees Iggy, pointing to a paper taped to the closet door.
"Yea, and every item's labeled. Check the tags."
"This's so /cool."
"Well, he has to do something to keep from clashing," points out Rhys.
"I wonder who does the labeling ...."
"'s'not his handwriting."
Iggy scoffs, "'course not. He's the one who can't see colours."
"Must be his sister."
"Sexist much?"
"His dad doesn't care, his brothers are a doctor and a ten-year-old, so she's gonna be the only one with writing neat enough," explains Edan.
"Ahh ... riiiiight."
Edan arranges jumpers and socks atop the linens.
Opens the next drawer.
Medium- and heavyweight jumpers, all neatly folded, the ones he can see labeled with their colours.
He blinks away the start of tears.
""Iggy?""
"Yea?"
"Why'd these be in here?" Bakshish steps out of the washroom holding up a red plastic bag. "Should I be worried?"
"'Biohazard'?" Iggy cocks her head. "There a sharps box?"
"Haven't found one."
"Any needles?"
"Not yet."
She frowns. "Needles're the usual reason for someone to have these. So he either took everything with 'im or those're for something else."
"Like what?"
"Any sort of biological sample or waste. Pick your substance."
Bakshish wrinkles his nose.
"Why—whoo ...." Rhys straightens from a desk drawer. "Curiouser and curiouser."
"Yea, the Hell's going on?"
"Whatever it is involves London, too." Rhys holds up a stack of pre-paid shipping envelopes addressed to a London PO Box. "He have family there?"
"He only mentioned Berlin, Montreal, and Hamelin."
"What about a correspondence course on the side?"
"Pretty sure he'd've said something and he didn't."
"Childhood friend?"
"I got the impression he didn't have anyone close outside his family."
"So none of us has a clue what these and those are about."
"Not a one," agrees Iggy.
Edan whines, heart twitching against his ribs.
Bakshish shrugs, heads back into the washroom. ""Less snooping, more packing!""
Iggy and Rhys sigh, go back to their tasks.
Edan contemplates the drawer of jumpers.
""Forgive me if I'm wrong, but is Hermann the type to focus much on his appearance?""
"Less than Iggy—"
"Sexist—"
"—on presentation days—"
Iggy concedes.
"—but more than Rhys."
Iggy and Rhys accept this as true.
""Okay, next question: a hairdryer?""
Iggy and Rhys look at Edan.
He shrugs.
"No idea on that one, either," calls Iggy.
""Man of mystery, this one.""
Edan sighs, ponders jumpers.
"That box won't pack itself," prompts Rhys.
Edan sighs mightily, gathers up a couple of jumpers.
Hesitates.
Holds the fabric to his nose, breathes deeply, and keeps breathing in Hermann's scent.
"What's it smell like?"
Edan jumps, just barely doesn't send the clothes flying. "Uh ... well, warm and soft?"
"Concrete, please, you lovesick trout."
Edan rolls his eyes. "Like baby shampoo and lavender and—" Grimaces, sniffs again. "Something like ... like ... it's familiar but I just /can't put a finger on it."
Rhys rolls over, buries his face in Edan's handful, inhales, stands straight. After a moment's contemplation, he declares, "Chalk dust."
"Wha? Really?"
Rhys shrugs.
Edan wrinkles his brow, takes another sniff. "You're right." Frowns. "/Why does it smell like chalk dust? How does he get it on his clothes?"
"If anyone'd know, it'd be you."
"Never saw him touch it, not that I was with him twenty-four-seven."
"Not for lack of trying."
"Fuck you, Swansea," snaps Edan.
Rhys holds up his hands in surrender.
Edan hangs his head, rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry."
"Maybe it's something in his cologne or deodorant?" offers Iggy.
Rhys and Edan give her a 'yea, right' look.
"'s not like you have any better ideas," she grumps, arms crossed.
"Wherever it's coming from, it's only adding to that bloke's collection of oddities."
"Yea, seriously," agrees Iggy.
Edan runs a hand through his hair.
"I'll address the elephant. All this man of mystery stuff put you off him, Gingersnap?"
"Of course not!"
"/Why not?"
Edan smiles faintly. "Because not many men are mysteries."
"Did you just—"
"Yep."
"Science fiction people," sighs Rhys.
"That show'll be a /classic! Just you watch!"
"I'll pass."
Category:Ficlet
Category:Edan's POV
Category:Edan
Category:Edan (ficlet)
Category:Bakshish
Category:Bakshish (ficlet)
Category:Vigsai
Category:Vigsai (ficlet)
Category:Rhys
Category:Rhys (ficlet)
Category:Hermann (mention)
Category:Karla (mention)
Category:Lars (mention)
Category:Dietrich (mention)
Category:Bastien (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images
Category:Firefly (reference)
2006 01 15
Category:Celestial Mechanics
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