The chandelier is flickering in an eerie way when Julia walks through the foyer from raiding the drawing room's liquor cabinet. She slows, stares up at it, and there's that girl – Veronica or Vivian or – the governess. She stands there by the railing, white robe billowing around her, gazing at the lights and looking like something that time forgot. For a long moment, Julia is mesmerized by her – Vicki, that was it – and the way she seems luminous, but she stops in the middle of the foyer and places her hand on her hip, the long-necked bottle dangling almost to her knee in her other hand.
"What're you doing?" Julia calls. Vicki jolts, and Julia thinks that she might topple over the railing in her fright.
Vicki takes a breath and looks down at her. "Sleepwalking," she says quite simply, "but I could ask you the same question."
Julia's mind is quick to come up with a response; she's lived in this house far longer than Vicki's few hours, and she's under no obligation to explain herself. But Vicki's innocent, curious gaze makes her frown and avert her eyes, looking instead to the liquor bottle she's swiped. It should suffice as an answer, Julia knows, but she comes up with an extra little half-truth: "Can't sleep."
"If it makes you feel better, I doubt I'll be able to, either." There's an almost playful tone to Vicki's voice, and even though she's far above her, Julia can see her wide eyes move to the chandelier once more. The flickering's died down – only a few wayward bulbs sputtering their last – but Vicki scans it anyway. Searching.
"Partners in insomnia. Fantastic." Julia hopes the wry comment will bring Vicki back down to earth once again – not that she cares, but no one in Collinwood need be in a trance unless she put them there. It earns her a gentle smile, but no words in response. Julia sighs, then gestures toward the basement staircase with her head. "I've got something for that. Come on."
A moment passes where they only look at one another, and Julia doesn't think that Vicki will actually take her up on the offer, but then the moment is gone and Vicki is practically floating down the staircase, robe waving behind her like a pair of wings.
She's timid when the two of them make their way down the stairs to Julia's makeshift apartment. Pale hands are either wringing or pulling at the sleeves of her robe, and those big blue eyes keep darting to the door. Julia resists the urge to roll her own as she practically throws the bottle down into a cushioned chair and fishes around on the table for a little orange bottle. The cap's off and then two pills are in her hand, and she's holding them out to Vicki. She looks at the small blue circles warily, and Julia sighs.
"Sleeping pills, I promise." She shows Vicki the bottle for proof, shaking the few pills that remain. Confident enough, Vicki gives another small smile and makes to down them, but then she's frowning and looking around.
A brief pause where neither of them move. Julia mutters to herself and grabs a shot glass off of the same table, filling it with that same liquor she brought down earlier and practically shoving it at the girl. Vicki makes a face and Julia swears that she nearly backs away from it, and it's all she can do not to close her eyes and pray that she doesn't give Julia another lecture because she seems the type. But Vicki gingerly plucks the glass from Julia's fingers.
"No negative reactions. Promise." Julia thinks that she seems to be doing a lot of that in the past few hours, but it works, and Vicki downs the alcohol and pills and winces as it goes down. Julia almost laughs.
"Thank you," she says. She's back to picking at her robe again, and there's a long silence. Vicki stares at the ground, at the shot glass she's turning in her fingers, while Julia's doing her best to peer at her, to see inside her head, to uncover those secrets she remembers accusing her of at dinner.
"What's this house like at night?" Vicki asks, just as Julia comes out with, "Something on your mind?"
And then, neither speak.
"You seem anxious," Julia observes.'
Vicki tilts her head, light brown locks sweeping past her shoulder. "Do you have something for that, too?"
That's the exact moment as Julia pinpoints it. The exact moment when she takes note of the way the lamplight illuminates Vicki's face and the pale curve of her neck and shines off of the satin material of her robe. The exact moment when she understands her need to understand her – to understand her threat, to understand the woman with her eyes and her youth and her elegance. The exact moment when she realizes that Victoria Winters appears to be a beacon of purity, all flowing satin and white ruffles – in stark contrast to what Julia remembers is a short, thin negligee. Julia pulls the fabric lower on her thighs.
Vicki shakes her head and that soft smile has returned. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day."
She holds the shot glass back out to Julia as something of a peace offering or an apology, Julia surmises as she takes it back. She pays careful mind to avoid even the slightest touch of Vicki's fingers.
"You get some rest," she tells Vicki pointedly. Chin up, shoulders squared. Professional airs. "The pills should kick in any time now."
"Good night, Doctor Hoffman. And thank you."
Julia nods and Vicki turns, and Julia stands there and makes sure she can hear the governess on the very top step before she collapses on her own couch with a sigh.
The short answer was yes. Yes, Julia did have something for Vicki's request, but nothing she was prepared for.
And Julia wishes she were prepared. Being caught off-guard is not a specialty of hers.