A/N: Eeek! Noticed a few minor mistakes spelling-wise in Chapter 24. Those have been corrected and the chapter reposted. On with the show! Love and appreciate the reviews!

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Wednesday, 11 April 2018

On Monday, the world caught up with Charles Carson. Whether it was the Lady-induced stress of the last week, the change of the seasons, his overexerting himself the day before or most likely a combination of all the above, he woke feeling under the weather. Fortunately – or unfortunately – he still had some of Elsie's chicken and rice soup left and he ate that and slept most of the day. On the one hand, Elsie felt badly that he was feeling unwell, but on the other, she was glad he had the opportunity to rest, and she let him do exactly that.

By Tuesday noon, he was feeling considerably better but she could still hear a catch in his throat when they spoke on the phone and she refused his plea to have dinner with him that evening. She told him it wasn't worth the risk for either one of them to rush his recovery. He sulked a bit at that, prompting her to call him a curmudgeon again. "Take it easy still" she insisted – one more day would make all the difference.

And so, since he had nothing else to do Tuesday afternoon, he did take it easy – putting his feet up on an Eames ottoman and plotting escalating his wooing of Elsie Hughes.

At 2:00, he texted asking her to confirm when her birthday was. She had no idea what brought this on, but replied:

11 Jan

Perfect. He had remembered correctly. By 4:00, his plan was all sketched out in one of his signature Moleskin notebooks, a carryover from his years as an architect, and he texted her again:

The honour of your presence is requested at the South Bank Tower for dinner 6:30 pm on Wednesday, 11 April 2018. Please RSVP to your curmudgeon before 6:00 pm this evening.

From behind her office desk that was littered with piles and piles of paper she wondered, has he done nothing this afternoon?! As she waited for him to answer her call, she considered he needs to find a new hobby. Elsie didn't yet fully realize the extent to which she herself was his new hobby.

"Curmudgeon booking desk, Charlie speaking, how may I help you?"

She couldn't help but shake her head at the cheek, "It seems you're feeling ever better."

"I'm sorry madam, how may I direct your call?" Hmmm. Role playing again. Okay, she'd just have to play along.

"Hello, sir, yes, I'm calling to make a booking for tomorrow evening, please."

"What time were you thinking?"

"6:30 please, party of two."

"Just two? Nice, that should be easy to accommodate. Let me see what is available, just a moment, please." She heard papers shuffling in the background. "If a table with a view will be acceptable, we do have one then."

"Quiet corner perhaps?"

"I'll put that request in, if you'd like."

"That would be very kind of you."

"Wonderful, and what name shall I put this booking under?"

"Put it under my companion's name please."

"I'm ready for the spelling."

"C-U-R-M-U-D-G-E-O-N – with a capital C."

He almost broke character at that but instead held it together. "-E-O-N. Right then. Any special instructions I may add?"

"Just one: No poultry please."

6:25 pm

Elsie rushed herself over to the South Bank Tower – she knew Charles did not like tardiness. As she came through the revolving door, she saw him leaned against the front desk, speaking with Ti'ara. He had on his Big Ben dress shirt again, the one he'd worn to Fun Shui; he'd paired it with navy cuffed trousers.

"Charlie, what are you doing down here?"

"Waiting for you to arrive. Hello," he kissed her chastely on the lips in greeting.

"Mmmm, red carpet treatment tonight." She returned the kiss and then backed away, noticing that some of her lipstick had transferred from her lips to his. "Or red lips treatment may be the better way to put it." She reached up, and thumbed the colouring from his lower lip. He stole another quick kiss on the pad of her thumb.

He turned to Ti'ara, bidding her good evening, then back to Elsie and raising one eyebrow asked, "Ready?"

"Yes, I'm starving."

"Wonderful, I'll just put my jacket on and we'll be on our way." He stepped toward the lounge seating on the other side of the doorway.

"I don't understand, aren't we going up?"

"No, Elsie – we're going out!" She had assumed they were eating in, and so what he said was taking a moment to sink in. "Recall that other than Sunday, I've been holed up upstairs – I wish to get out. I hope that's okay with you." He was zipping up a navy suede bomber jacket.

"No arguments from me."

"Great!" Ever the gentleman, he led the way out the revolving door. When Elsie was through as well, he explained they had a 7:00 booking nearby, within walking distance; they could likely be seated earlier.

He offered her his elbow which she took, gladly, and they began their walk, westward. He was taking her to a casual Mexican place, Wahaca, part of a local chain. She'd been to a different one for drinks once before, recalling the margaritas being quite tasty. He liked this one for the proximity to home and people-watching but mainly for the architecture: the restaurant was built from eight recycled shipping containers arranged on two levels.

When they arrived at the restaurant and he spoke with the hostess about their booking, he said she would find it under the name of Curmudgeon. Remembering yesterday afternoon's banter, Elsie thought he was joking but he really had made the online booking under that name – and requested a prime table: in a quiet corner with a view. They were seated in a corner, overlooking the Waterloo Bridge.

Studying the menu, both agreed to the classic margaritas though Charles suggested Mezcal instead of tequila. No sooner had they ordered those than Charles added an extra shot of Mezcal to the order for each though Elsie quickly cancelled hers, reminding him it was "a school night." Charles just waggled his eyebrows, acknowledging it was for her, but not him. She shook her head, she was glad to see him so cheerful tonight.

Once their drinks came, they proceeded to inquire about substitution possibilities in the Mexican Feast for 2. When their waiter, Griffin, asked what they were hoping to avoid, both said "poultry" simultaneously and burst out laughing. Griffin said that wasn't a problem and a few minutes later, they were digging into the first of many tapas-size plates that allowed them to sample an array of street food selections including tostadas, empanadas, taquitos, tacos, quesadillas, cheese and two puddings.

Charles ordered a second doubly-potent margarita. Elsie hadn't been able to eat as much of the last few plates as him and the notion of puddings at this point was beyond her. Yet he ordered the churros y chocolate and salted caramel ice cream along with requesting their cheque. When he offered her a bite she was hesitant. "Charlie, you're going to prompt this lass to lose her girlish figure if you keep on plying me with puddings."

He'd just closed his mouth around another bite. She'd gotten his attention as he looked intently over at her for a moment then down at the bowl and plate in front of him. Through his facial expression, he was deliberately exaggerating his consideration of that notion. After slowly removing the spoon from his mouth and swallowing, he asked, "Does that mean you'll have to buy some larger knickers than the ones I saw in your upstairs loo on Sunday? Because I'm partial to the lacy kind, in colours!" Elsie's chin practically hit the tabletop, whilst her right hand did smack his upper arm. "Owww!"

On Sunday, Elsie had apologized for the laundry set out to dry when he returned downstairs. He had just smiled then and asked, "What laundry?" as if nothing was unusual, before changing the subject.

Now that he had mentioned her unmentionables, she leaned in closer so that she could emphasize what she was about to say without drawing the attention of others, "Charles Carson I don't believe you! You act all Mr. Polite Gentleman after the most mortifying moment I could imagine on Sunday only now you bring it up out of the clear blue as if you've thought of nothing else in the days since!" She was staring daggers at him, in close proximity, though it wasn't at all uncomfortable – he was rather enjoying it.

He looked down and calmly began scraping the chocolate remains with his spoon. With a straight expression on his face, he continued. "Correction, Elsie, I didn't exactly bring it up out of the clear blue – though I think blue a lovely colour."

Charles waggled his eyebrows again, and looked over at her suggestively. Now she practically had steam coming out of her ears and nose. He put the spoon down, flagged the waiter and paid the cheque before covering her hand on the table with his. "Have you calmed down? You were practically a dragon a moment ago. My Scottish Dragon!" He chuckled aloud at his wit. She was still steamed and mortified but had calmed slightly.

"I think you're drunk, Mr. Carson!"

"Elsie, relax. So I saw your knickers – it isn't like you were wearing them!"

She thought back to the sight she'd inadvertently been treated to a week ago at his flat: him. He wasn't wearing his pants then either! She hadn't yet told him about that, and couldn't foresee when she ever would. But the memory pulled her back from the edge. Charles looked down at his watch then dropped his napkin down on the table explaining, "We've got to go!"

Confused again, Elsie remained seated.

Charles put his hand out toward her. "Elsie, we've one more stop tonight, we need to get going."

The roller coaster of emotions she was on was tiring her as she stood up and asked, "Charlie, where are we possibly going at this hour?"

"You'll see, trust me."

8:45 pm

They'd continued westward, away from South Bank Tower, Charles refusing to tell her where they were headed, what he'd planned. They'd only walked a couple minutes, increasingly surrounded by tourists, when he stopped and pointed to the sky. "That, Elsie, is where we're headed." She followed his hand.

"I don't believe you!"

"Believe me! Trust me! What's so hard about that?"

"Oh, Charlie, I love you!" She didn't even realize she'd said it as her lips crashed into his. They were headed for a ride on the London Eye! "What's brought this on? Why tonight?"

They had resumed walking toward the Eye. "Well, I have this little tradition you see. It started years ago with doing one new thing – or something I hadn't done since childhood – on my birthday every year. As time passed and it became clearer to me that life is short I changed that up a little and now the policy is to do so every three months on my quarter birthday so, 19 August, 19 November, 19 February, 19 May." He looked down at her, they were holding hands again. "So, when you mentioned the other day you hadn't ever ridden the Eye it got me thinking. Then when you confirmed your birthday, I realized that today is your quarter birthday and so I thought why not institute the practice as well for you?"

"That's very well thought out of you." They'd arrived in the queue, Charles showing the ticket taker his phone screen with digital tickets.

"Mmmm, you could say I'm switching out bucket lists for fuck it lists!" He had moved his arm around her shoulder and was looking straight up now, lost in the wonder of the engineering and multi-hued LED light display above them.

"Oh Charlie, look!" He looked down again to where she was now pointing, allowing his eyes a moment to refocus in the comparative darkness of ground level. As she saw the frown forming on his face, she began to giggle.

"You're kidding, right?" She shook her head no and smiled wider and wider up at him, wrapping her arms around his midsection from her place at his side. "After refusing even a single bite of chocolate or caramel, you want that?"

"Yes, please."

"Now?" She nodded yes. He looked down at her in resignation then gauged their place in the queue. "I'll be right back." Letting go of her shoulder, he took one step forward before swinging his right leg high over the chain hung between the two stanchions nearest them.

"The blue kind!" He waved in acknowledgment without turning back to her as he strode toward the candy floss vendor, saying to himself, "It's the colour of the evening."

He returned to the queue a minute later, a fresh cone of blue candy floss in his hand. She let other passengers pass her until Charles was back at her side. She tore a chunk of floss off whilst the cone was still in his hand. He had a plastic bag and twist tie for when she was finished with the "disgusting mess." She laughed and offered him some, but he declined, claiming to be watching his manly figure. That just made her laugh even more and he pretended to take offense at that before he collapsed in laughter as well. He kissed her then, licking his lips a moment later before admitting it didn't taste as badly as he'd remembered.

When they were close enough to the loading zone that one of the workers came over and asked how many in their party, Charles held up two fingers and whispered under his breath if they might not be put in the same trolley as the rambunctious teenagers in front of them. The worker apologized, it was all about maximizing ridership, but it was a lighter traffic night and though loading the trolleys as evenly as possible, they were not loading them to capacity.

Soon they were in one of the trolleys with a handful of others, the doors sealing them inside. The Eye never stopped rotating, albeit very slowly, a full rotation from start to end was 30 minutes. For the ride up, Elsie and Charles sat on one of the benches looking out on the city below them. The scene inside was a near duplication of their evening at the theatre with Elsie enjoying the show and Charles enjoying watching her.

As they reached the top of the Eye, Elsie stood and walked toward one of the glass walls to get a better look; the glass had steamed up some and she was wiping the glass to see again. Charles pulled out his phone and texted the South Bank Tower, confirming his reservation for the car service to pick them up in 25 minutes from the southeast corner of the Jubilee Gardens, at Riverside Walk and Belvedere Road.

He returned his phone to his breast pocket before looking over at Elsie who was still standing near the glass. Charles stood up then and walked over to her. He hesitated for a moment before stepping right behind her and slowly wrapping his arms around her waist. She laid her hands on his forearms, letting him know she liked the closeness between them. "You haven't left my candy floss behind, have you?"

He couldn't resist himself anymore and leaned in and kissed her neck right below her ear before replying, "As a matter of fact, there's a London Eye squirrel eating his way through the bag right now just behind us. He's doing something like this to get at his sweet," and Charles was suddenly nuzzling her neck. She tilted her head to the right to give him better access. He hummed his approval.

As the Eye trolley continued its descent, Charles continued to stand with Elsie in his arms. Every so often he would release one arm to point out something to her on the skyline, returning it as quickly as possible. Their continued closeness was enough to capture the attention of the teenagers inside the trolley with them who were out on their own school night. Little did Elsie or Charles know it, but the teenagers were directing their friends' attention to them as in, "Get a load of those two old boobies!"

As they exited the trolley, they were holding hands again, Elsie confirming she had enjoyed the ride greatly. They strolled to the far end of the park where Abdullah was waiting for them. Charles helped her into the vehicle telling Abdullah her address. She was surprised when he shut the door beside her and so made to roll down the window to say goodnight when she heard the other rear door open on the other side and saw Charles climbing in beside her. She looked at him and smiled sweetly at him.

"What? I want to make sure you get home safe." Abdullah drove away and a few minutes later, aided by GPS, they had stopped in front of Elsie's home. Abdullah went to unfasten his seatbelt but Charles stopped him, saying he would get Elsie's door. He came around and helped her down out of the vehicle before walking her to her front door. With her keys in her right hand, Charles grabbed her left.

"I hope you had a wonderful night, Elsie. I know I did." He paused. "I'm sorry for being so forward up in the trolley." Hopefully, he added, "We weren't able to get to Brighton last weekend as we'd discussed. When do you think we might reschedule?"

"Let's talk tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight Elsie." He leaned in and kissed her. With Abdullah steps away inside the vehicle ready to take him home, he made sure to keep it chaste.

As he broke away, she answered him, "Goodnight, Charlie."

Climbing back in the vehicle, Abdulluh caught the reflection of a smiling Charles Carson in the rear view mirror –one with blue lips.