A/N: It has been awhile! So sorry! Here's chapter 3!
"Who's this?"
Monty was pointing at a shorter man with dark hair and facial hair. He was sitting on the very bench the Sibella had been sitting on just the other day. Michael and Jack were talking to him about pirates, Monty could understand.
"Playwright J.M. Barrie," he supplied with what Monty could now tell was a very heavy Scottish accent. It almost made him want to laugh a bit.
"And then I got captured by the fierce Pirate Captain Monty!" Michael was detailing another fun day they had had in the park. It was either yesterday or the day before, Monty couldn't remember.
"J.M. Barrie!" Phoebe, who was wearing a handmade pirate hat, was now beside the playwright with a sense of curiosity and admiration. "I've seen quite a few of your plays, sir! They're absolutely wonderful. My late Aunt Salome loved the theatre!"
"Well it is nice to meet a fan. Thanks so much for your kind words."
"I must ask you, Mr. Barrie, what are your plans for your next show? Your last one closed so suddenly."
James was a little hurt at the reminder. His wife, Mary, was quite upset and felt the need for him to write something quite the same as what he'd always done. A formulaic success.
"Just do what you've always done, James. It's like this furniture, the same pieces, and you move them around. Just like that."
James wasn't too thrilled by the idea.
"I have a few ideas in the works, not to worry," he said with a slight smile.
Monty could tell already he didn't have anything. He was just saying that for Phoebe, who lit up at the very mention of more plays to see. She loved them so much. And come to think of it, so did Peter, after what he said.
"Peter, you can not run off like that."
It wasn't Sylvia talking. It was Sibella. She was herding Peter and George towards Monty, James, Phoebe, and the remaining boys. Sylvia was walking slightly behind them, looking quite tired.
"Are you alright?"
Phoebe was so concerned about the older woman. She always looked so strong, what could ever be the matter?
"Yes, quite fine. I'm just a little... sick. A cold. Chest cold. Hard to breathe sometimes. But don't worry, I'll recover soon enough."
Monty could also tell that this was a show. He was good at that. Picking out the things people said and reading in-between the lines.
"I'm terribly sorry but I never asked your names," James said with a friendly smile.
"I'm Monty Navarro," Montry introduced.
"Phoebe D'ysquith Navarro. His wife."
"Sibella Hallward Holland." She said Holland with a certain amount of disdain.
"A pleasure." James smiled and offered Monty his hand. They shook. "And how do you know these fine young lads?"
"We met right here in the park as a matter of fact," Monty said. "They were trying to take Sibella's bench."
"It's our bench!" Jack piped up.
"Jack!" Sylvia scolded.
"Jocelyn, he's only joking," James said with a smile.
Monty turned. "Jocelyn?"
"It's my nickname for her!" Barrie seemed awfully pleased with himself. It was like he had found the most perfect name in the world.
"It's my middle name," Sylvia added.
Sylvia looked slightly embarrassed. Monty looked at her for what felt like the longest moment, curious and confused. Phoebe eventually nudged him.
"Did you hear what he said?"
"What?"
James laughed. "I was asking if you've had the pleasure of playing in the Davies' backyard."
"Yes, we have."
"Jocelyn, should we all pay you a visit in the near future? What do you think. It would be quite fun."
There was hesitation, and Monty really wanted to reassure Sylvia that he was alright not coming, but the boys immediately answered. Almost unamimously, they all cheered for a joint playdate. And Monty knew that Sylvia felt trapped.
"Please oh please oh please," Michael cried out, wanting to play with his favorite people.
"Oh, alright," Sylvia conceded with a pleasant smile. She was, admittedly, a fair actress. Not as good as Mary Ansell, though. Though Mary Ansell hadn't been around the stage in some time. A long time.
George handed James a stick.
"Your sword, sir," he offered.
"Ah, yes. I shall bring it when we conquer distant lands and fair against the seven seas!"
Peter seemed less than impressed. In fact, he looked like he resented James.
"Now, boys, it's getting late. Why don't we head home," Sylvia suggested.
Jack looked the most upset, but she took his hand and began to lead them away.
"Sylvia, a word?"
It was Monty. He was waving at her slightly, and she blushed. Not because she was in any way attracted to him, but because she seemed so flustered by the entire situation and she didn't know how to get out.
"Can it wait?"
"Sure."
