I have previously decided to approach Darrius and Lex on their own and try to get a better understanding of them. Last night, I got my chance with Lex. My aim was to express my curiosity about her life and her beliefs. For my troubles, I was rewarded early on with a dirty look and the explanation that I sound like an arrogant son of a bitch. Certain that there had been a communication blunder, since I could not recall anything I had said which should deserve such a reaction, I asked her for clarification. It appears that it is not the content of my speech which I share with arrogant sons of bitches, but my style of speech. What a relief. I remained diplomatic and gentlemanly as she delivered what Americans call a backhanded compliment: I should not worry, because plenty of men sound like sons of bitches, and some women prefer it.
Oh, joy. My gratitude overflows. There is hope for me yet, according to Lex.
Luckily, Ms. Beckett and Lola came to save me from the pool of gratitude I was drowning in, and not a moment too soon, since from that point on, every inoffensive thing I said seemed to strike the lady as some kind of foolish criticism. I would love to take this personally, though hearing her talk about Miss Bunny suggests that criticism is a grain Lex keeps well stocked and which she generously distributes.
My new game, I have decided, is to continue being genial and deferent to Lex, and to compliment her without restraint, while using comically aristocratic language. Who am I to disprove people’s impressions of me? Though this incident is, in all honesty, a trifle, merely an observation about someone's behavior not warranting a stern reaction, I am reminded of the aphorism your friend Fenno said on the subject of remaining gentlemanly when attacked, "If someone should plant a dagger in your ribs, thank them for the gift and keep it. You may have use of it later." It still makes me smile!
It goes without saying that the encounter does not improve prospects regarding Darrius’ club idea. Even if I decided to throw in my lot with people who seem to merely tolerate me, it appears I would be joining a group of all-too-important people who take magic so very seriously. Darrius’ estimation of himself is clear. Lex, however, is not just a play-witch who finds altars and daggers sexy, as I originally thought, but the kind of person for which rituals are work and science. Also, if I had to guess, the kind of person who is soon going to catch the eye of the pushy, controlling kind of Special Friend, if she hasn’t already.
Not an appetizing picture, this club. But perhaps I am being a curmudgeon. Perhaps I am just too comfortable with present circumstances. We will see. No decisions yet. Why determine now what can be determined later?
Ms. Beckett continues to be a charmer, and the thought of her in Adeline’s arms on this Valentine’s Day gives me that frustrated thrill I love so much every once in a while.
Lola is—Ah, but I have to stop here, because simply saying her name in my head is a delight! Lola! Lola! Lola! Lola. Her name sounds like she walks. It sounds like how she speaks, how she rolls over and yawns in bed. I think I may like her name more than I like her. But I am being mean. She is a sweet thing, really quite delicious. I am reasonably certain that I am simply an accessory to her lifestyle, something she can paw and show off, but whatever makes Lola happy, she can have for a time.
However, I have it up to here with the cattiness between her and Lex . There are few things more annoying than the cold war played out between beautiful women over status and possessions. The open war between men for the same things is usually too laughable to truly annoy. ____ has taken notice, and is just as annoyed. He made a heart-felt appeal that I should kill the confrontation that Lola wanted so badly, kill it by smothering it, and how could I say no? I hate to have such a direct hand in the activities of a group, but I hate even more to hear ___ so upset, and I cannot bear ______’s moods.
In truth, Lex killed the confrontation herself and extended an olive branch. It will be interesting to see whether this was an empty gesture, and more so, whether Lola has the capacity to move on past petty squabbles.
Odd how incensed she got at the thought of animal sacrifice. But between women, what they fight about is never really what they’re fighting about, is it?