Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing but Christine and the plot.
Sarah looked around her, trying to make sense about what was going on. She tried to account what she had done and where she had been the night before. She remembered coming home and talking with Christine, taking a drink, explaining to Christine who Jareth was, and going to bed. What she couldn't understand was why she was now in the Underground with a man, or fae, whom she had hoped to forget about. There was no more time to talk, because someone was now rapping on her door.
"Co- come in," she mumbled. At first, she was not quite sure that whoever had knocked had heard her. But then the doorknob began to turn, and the door opened slowly. In came Jareth, in his usual attire.
"I am glad to see that you are awake," he smiled. "I have taken the liberty of having your dresses made. They are now in that wardrobe over there," he pointed to a tall oak wardrobe on the opposite wall, "and you can ask the servents for anything else you might require."
"Where is my niece, Christine?" asked Sarah.
"She is sleeping in her own room," replied Jareth. "She already knows she is here."
"Then why is she sleeping? Shouldn't she be freaking out or something like that?" Sarah could not understand why her niece could be so relaxed as to sleep in the bed of someone that she had never met before and whom Sarah had not spoken to in a long time until recently.
"Enough! No more questions until after you have changed out of that shirt I let you borrow and we have had time to eat our breakfast." Sarah looked down at the shirt she was wearing. It was a shirt that looked like the one Jareth was wearing, and Sarah grew emberassed. Because of the opening in the front, it barely covered the essential. She closed it quickly and began to shove Jareth out the door.
"Don't be so pushy," laughed Jareth. "After all, I did give you a room."
"I don't think a room includes a free show," replied Sarah. She slammed the door closed and frowned. She needed the time to herself, anyway.
Sarah looked around her, trying to make sense about what was going on. She tried to account what she had done and where she had been the night before. She remembered coming home and talking with Christine, taking a drink, explaining to Christine who Jareth was, and going to bed. What she couldn't understand was why she was now in the Underground with a man, or fae, whom she had hoped to forget about. There was no more time to talk, because someone was now rapping on her door.
"Co- come in," she mumbled. At first, she was not quite sure that whoever had knocked had heard her. But then the doorknob began to turn, and the door opened slowly. In came Jareth, in his usual attire.
"I am glad to see that you are awake," he smiled. "I have taken the liberty of having your dresses made. They are now in that wardrobe over there," he pointed to a tall oak wardrobe on the opposite wall, "and you can ask the servents for anything else you might require."
"Where is my niece, Christine?" asked Sarah.
"She is sleeping in her own room," replied Jareth. "She already knows she is here."
"Then why is she sleeping? Shouldn't she be freaking out or something like that?" Sarah could not understand why her niece could be so relaxed as to sleep in the bed of someone that she had never met before and whom Sarah had not spoken to in a long time until recently.
"Enough! No more questions until after you have changed out of that shirt I let you borrow and we have had time to eat our breakfast." Sarah looked down at the shirt she was wearing. It was a shirt that looked like the one Jareth was wearing, and Sarah grew emberassed. Because of the opening in the front, it barely covered the essential. She closed it quickly and began to shove Jareth out the door.
"Don't be so pushy," laughed Jareth. "After all, I did give you a room."
"I don't think a room includes a free show," replied Sarah. She slammed the door closed and frowned. She needed the time to herself, anyway.
