AN: Hey hey readers! This is Mary! Previous author to Tintin and Eleanor. To my faithful readers.. SO sorry for not updating Eleanor in a long time. I guess you can say I kinda went into a study mode of looking at other stories and getting the background involved in a story. Or, some of you can just call me lazy. Whateva ya want. ANYways... I received a request thingy from a … Miss Lily. Lily, thanks so much, your support is most appreciated. SO! This story, all my effort is dedicated to you. Lily. So, once you can, check this story out, and lemme know if it's to your liking. If it is, I'll continue, if it ain't, I'll scratch it and try again. Also, I'm working on some cover art at the mo', so soon you should get an idea of what the new OC in this story looks like. Again, if you like it, it stays, if not, it's scratched. Now, briefly, I just want to go over stuff you guys may put in reviews. If it is hateful, go ahead and be hateful. But please. Please. PUGH_LEASE! No bad language. I don't care if it is direct or implied. Keep it g-rated folks. Please. And nothing suggestive either. I'm UBER sensitive, kay?
Now, little back story, this takes place during the movie of the Adventures of Tintin. So if some of this doesn't make sense... watch the movie. ALSO, all the lines are quoted from MEMORY, because I couldn't find the dang script. So, if I get any lines wrong, please don't shoot me, but if you CAN find the script, tell me where, and I will see about corrections. Anyway, ENJOY!
"Ve'y neal'y there, monsieur," the artist informed the journalist who was posing in front of him as he added the finishing touches on a small cartoon portrait.
"You 'ave a ve'y familia face, monsieur, have I drawn you befo'e?" the artist asked.
"Occasionally," supplied the journalist. A small smile bloomed on the artist's face.
"Of cou'se!" he said, "I've seen you in the newspape'. You are a reporter?"
"I'm a journalist," Tintin corrected politely.
A small fox terrier whined at the journalist, not liking sitting still for so long. Tintin only pat the dog's head.
"Hang on, Snowy, just a little bit longer."
Snowy only whined again and looked down before catching a small glimpse of a black and long twitching object. Snowy stood up from his sitting position and took a few steps forward; searching for the object. He sniffed.
Cat.
Cat...
Snowy took off in the smell's direction, weaving around a particularly busy street filled with vendors on market day. Occasionally catching a peek of a black and gray (not that anything wasn't black or gray in his vision) stripes and green eyes. (Though they also appeared gray to him.) Suddenly another smell other than an infernal feline caught his attention. Snowy turned towards it in an attempt to get a better whiff.
Cotton gloves.
Strong aftershave.
Leather.
Lots.
Lots and lots of leather.
With paper inside.
Snowy looked around and saw the thick cotton gloves. They flexed around a bit before dancing around. Tapping other people's shoulders, slipping into coats and pulling out leather without being seen or heard.
That isn't right...
All thoughts of a twitching feline tail vanished as he took a few more steps toward the suspicious man with cotton gloves as said person slipped another folded bit of leather from someone's coat. Without being caught.
What is wrong with these bipedal senses?
"Snowy? Snowy!" The master's voice called out. Snowy obediently stopped.
"Where've you been? Chasing cats again?" Tintin inquired, bending down to pet his dog in front of market vendor that was peppered with various mirrors. Snowy barked. Tintin looked up a bit as a small shining glare had caught his eye. There, in a mirror was perhaps the most fine detailed model ship he had ever seen. Not saying that he was always particularly looking for model ships, but he had seen a few.
"Snowy... Look at this!" he said, excitedly, a grin forming on his face. Tintin turned around to look at the small glass case with the ship sitting inside.
"Triple masted... double decked... fifty guns... Isn't she a beauty?" Tintin murmured to himself as he moved around the case, taking in every detail.
"Indeed... A fine specimen," said a small feminine voice that sounded rather lost in deep thought and was just barely laced with a british accent. Tintin looked up from the amazing ship to find the owner of the voice. A young woman, about his height and age stood there, one hand across her ribs propping up her other arm up to her face. Her pointer finger resting against her right temple and the rest laced around her chin in a thoughtful stance.
She had very light hazel eyes, some freckles sprinkled high upon her cheeks and very round naturally pink lips that were pursed in thought. She had very long billowing black hair going down her back, with a baby blue headband to keep it out of her face. What was rather strange about this contemplative woman was one of her long bangs that hid her forehead held a thin lock of bright cyan colored hair that led up straight to the roots on the back of her head.
The woman wore a short sleeved v-necked button up blouse with a fin collar. Only the sleeves of the blouse were a light blue, the rest of blouse sporting an darker indigo. She also donned a skirt with gray and light blue to match her blouse horizontal stripes, indigo leggings, and blue ballet flats.
Tintin just blinked up at her from his nearly kneeling position. The vendor clerk sitting nearby perked up.
"You'll never find another one like it. Built by a famous sea captain it was, in the eighteenth century."
Knowing that couldn't be right, Tintin opened up his mouth to correct the owner, only to blink up in mild bewilderment at the woman who spoke first.
"Actually it was the seventeenth century."
"...One in the time of Charles the Third..." the vendor clerk continued, partially ignoring the woman's correction.
"Charles the Second," Tintin and the woman corrected in unison. The woman's eyes finally turned away from her stare on the ship and made contact with Tintin's. Tintin slowly offered a half smile, suggesting maybe their chorused agreement may have been humorous. The woman quickly looked away to the ground, shifted her weight, crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip as if she was embarrassed. Tintin narrowed his eyes slightly in confusion.
"That's what I said: Charles the Second," the clerk had went on. Tintin turned his attention back to the ship, and from the corner of his eye saw that the woman did the same. Snowy moved around to the woman, bristled and then growled. The woman looked back down at him, slightly startled.
"Snowy, down!" Tintin commanded softly, before briefly making eye contact with the woman again. The woman just blinked. "Sorry," he said, offering another faint smile and trying to calm down his dog at the same time. The woman just nodded almost curtly and looked back at the ship. Tintin almost frowned.
"Can I sell it to either of yeh, then?" offered the clerk, not noticing this girl's brief and slightly rude behavior.
"Oh.. well, she was here first," said Tintin, gesturing to the girl who had been busily stroking her chin, trying to ignore the awkwardness and look more like she was musing over the ship again. The woman flinched as attention was turned to her, flicking her eyes from Tintin to the clerk and then to the ship.
"Oh! Ah. Well..." she muttered quietly. Tintin almost had to strain to hear her voice that just moments before was very distinguishable and occupied with thought.
"It... it's very tempting... but.. ah.. I..I may already have too many model ships, n-not saying that this one isn't remarkable, of course. But.. I, uh... no thank you," she rambled a bit and then stepped aside. The clerk just rose an eyebrow at her and then turned to Tintin.
"What about you, eh?" he offered. Tintin looked back down at the ship.
"...I'll give you a pound?" he suggested.
"Done." said the clerk, and rose to claim said price. The woman just stared on at the ship as the clerk received his money and opened the case to gently lift out the model. She appeared occupied in her thoughts once more, as if the model had just asked her a lengthy question and she was deciding the best way to answer. She didn't appear longing or envious; just wondering and contemplating about the model. Once the ship was in the hands of the journalist, a man with a very long nose, black mustache and light blue suit pushed through the crowd and clapped a hand on the clerk's shoulder.
"Hey bub, how much for the boat?" he asked in a fairly gruff voice that was dripping with anxiousness.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just sold it to this young gent," he explained, gesturing to Tintin. Tintin smiled gratefully at him.
"Oh yeah?" the man lay an arm across Tintin's shoulders and turned him away from the clerk. "Kid, tell me what you payed, and I'll give ya double," he promised.
"Double?!" exclaimed the clerk incredulously. The woman watching from the sidelines only rose her eyebrows.
"I'm sorry, but it's not for sale," said the journalist, slightly confused.
"Look kid, I know you don't really know what the big deal is here," said the man in the blue suit, releasing Tintin and circling him. "But you are about to enter a whole mess of danger."
"Danger? What danger?" Tintin asked, following him as he banded around. The man's eyes suddenly went wide and he nervously pointed at Tintin and then to the model.
"I'm warning ya... Git rid of the boat and get out while ya still can. These people do not play nice!" he said fearfully before turning and jogging away.
"What? What people?" Tintin asked slowly and bewildered, watching him go.
"Wonderful!" said a debonair voice right behind him. Tintin turned around quickly with a slight gasp to see a man with a red suit and a very pointy beard. Who was looking at the model in his hands.
"It's just... wonderful. Don't bother wrapping it up, I'll just take it as is. Does anyone object if I pay by check?" he asked, already taking out a checkbook and turning to the clerk.
"If yeh wanna buy it, you'll have to talk to the kid," said the clerk, annoyed. Tintin gave him another appreciative nod and turned back to the gentleman in front of him. The gentleman only rose an eyebrow and eyed Tintin over the rims of his small round spectacles.
"Really?" he asked, and clicked a ball point pen. "Well, let the kid, name his price." He turned back to his checkbook.
"Name his price?" parroted the clerk, sitting down in a flabbergasted manner. "Ten years I been flogging brick-a-brack and I miss 'Name his price' by one bleatin' minute!"
"I'm sorry, but I already just explained to the other gentleman-" Tintin started to explain politely.
"American he was. All hair oil and no socks," added the clerk. The woman on the sidelines blinked at him and cocked her head, wondering what he meant.
"It's not for sale," Tintin finished. The gentleman only stared at him a moment, clicked his pen again and tucked both it and his checkbook away in his coat before sighing and circled Tintin just as the other man had, stopping just as he was on the other side of him. Tintin just followed him.
"Well.. then let me try to appeal to your.. better nature. That ship was one of the last possessions inside the Haddock Estate-" the gentleman began.
"Of the late sea captain," Tintin interrupted with a nod.
"The family hit upon hard times. We are talking... generations of...drinking and irascible behavior. I have recently acquired Marlinspike Hall: the old Haddock Estate..." the gentleman continued.
"I'm sorry. But as I told you before," said Tintin, cutting him short and tucking the ship possessively under his arm. "It's not for sale. Good day to you, sir." Tintin turned and left. The gentleman stared after him, attaining a refined position.
"That young man... who is he?" he asked the clerk without shifting his gaze.
"Him?" the clerk asked incredulously, pointing at Tintin. "Everyone knows him! That's Tintin."
The woman looked after Tintin as he walked out of the market, raising her eyebrows. Really? That was him? She hoped she didn't seem rude to the young man, but attention from strangers was just one of the things she couldn't bear and made her very awkward. Even if they were the friendliest strangers. Just something about things she wasn't familiar with she repelled from by default.
A familiar flicking black and gray striped tail that had previously caught the attention of a certain little white dog tapped against her legs. The woman looked down.
"Maddy! You silly cat, I've been looking all over for you," she scolded lightly as she reached down and scooped the little mackerel tabby into her arms.
"No wonder that little dog growled at me.. I probably smell like you," the woman added with a chuckled before leaving market herself.
AN: Whew. That's it. Bam. Did you like it? If you did, you can review. Or not. Maybe I can feel the waves of your appreciation through the screen if you don't review. Hey, ya never know until you try. So, review if you wanna, and please, again, nothing in profanity. This story is supposed to be fun, sweet, and innocent. Please don't taint it.
ALSO! Jewel, the official owner of the account that I am mooching off of will be receiving your brownie points for taking role of co-author and publisher.
Kay, dat's it. Bye.