After such correspondence, Drake agreed to visit his idol at the end of the week. The male duck worked tirelessly to make every word crafted in a way that was simultaneously polite, proclaiming, and reverent. When words jumbled together in a way that did not satisfy the perfectionist, he'd throw it out and start over from scratch. Bundling with nerves, he worried that his RSVP would not be sufficient, that the older man would scoff at such amateurish wording. And if he did not worry about how his response came off, he'd obsess over the mail time, how long it would take for the postal service to receive the response and deliver it to his idol. Mail sometimes did get lost, slipping through the cracks and left to rot forever.
However, the RSVP was received, evidenced by the prompt response from Jim Starling, who was nothing but patient and forgiving. Not that he expected one, but it was more than appreciated nevertheless. The two ducks wrote back and forth until the end of the week. Gosalyn would be staying with the Muddlefoots while Drake left for the estate, which was in the middle of the dark woods.
Dressed in his best purple coat and pink shirt, Drake shivered from the cold autumn night and fiddled with the laced sleeve under his coat one. With much confident assurance from Binkie and the annoyed insistence from Gos, they made certain he was appropriately dressed, hair coiffed and cologne complimentary.
After much anticipation, Drake perked up to the sound of hooves. A purple coach with two horses, one white, the other black trotted up to the end of the street. The only sources of light were the candle-lit homes on his street and the lantern held by the driver of the carriage, highlighting his determined features.
The horses slowed to a walk as the driver saw Drake waving him down and came to a complete stop. The door of the carriage was right in front of the violaceously dressed male. Blue hues searched for the driver's gaze as he inquired.
"Are you from the Starling residence Mr-?"
The driver smiled warmly in the dimly lit atmosphere around them, hopping from his seat to walk around and open the door for Drake.
"Launchpad! Launchpad McQuack! And I sure did Mister Mallard!" The light from the lantern illuminated his green gaze. "Been awhile since we had anybody else visit Mr. Starling- oop! Careful there!" He stopped Drake from slipping on a step, giving the other his arm for balance. Drake blushed and smiled gratefully at the large man before letting go to settle himself inside.
As Launchpad closed the door behind him, the young drake caught the scent of musk, as the interior of the carriage looked like it had seen better days. The fuchsia velvet seats were worn, and some of the gold embroidery around the edges were loose. The curtains did not fair any better. Seams ripped in places that would have made it difficult for the rider to close if they chose to not look outside or keep themselves warm from the elements.
Drake's gaze drifted back to his home as he heard Launchpad make a soft cluck for the horses to move. He could also see Gosalyn from the Muddlefoot's window, waving to him before blowing out the windowsill candle. The adult male waved back, smiling.
Nails dug into the well-worn seats as Drake chattered his teeth, eyes wide in sheer terror, for the horses were running at a neck-break rest, their driver encouraging their speed. The horses whinnied at the motion of Launchpad cracking the reins.
"DO WE REALLY NEED TO GO THIS FAST!?" Drake shouted over the howling winds.
"IF WE WANT TA GET TA DINNA ON TIME YEAH! YA WANT TA GET THERE IN ONE PIECE DONCHA? THIS WAY'S THE BEST ROUTE FROM THE VILLAGE TO THE ESTATE! Oop! HOLD ON, HERE'S A BUMP COMING UP!"
With another crack of the reins, the horses leaped up and over a large fallen tree on a steep hill, sending them, the driver, the carriage, and its passenger flying...or rather falling on the trail. Both Drake and Launchpad screamed going down, long enough until hooves touched the ground, the carriage landed hard, causing the passenger to rise and hit his skull under the folding head, thus rubbed his noggin from the impact. Launchpad hollered and yipped excitedly as they galloped, making a straight dash through some barren trees while Drake held on to the seats for dear life.
Finally, the gallop slowed down to a canter and then a trot where the passenger could finally catch his breath. Shaking like a leaf, Drake breathed out and peeked through the ripped curtains to observe the woods.
Against a now pitch-black sky, on both sides of the path were large effigies of wolves snarling and sneering at the blue-eyed duck as he and Launchpad passed them, which made the budding actor shiver. One in particular he could have sworn their eyes glowed.
"Almost there Mister M! Can almost taste that meat stew! Mm, mm!"
Finally, the carriage came to a complete stop, the horses snort and shook their heads in relief. Drake's stomach was in knots by the time Launchpad opened the carriage door and let him out to a sight that the passenger found most puzzling.
The estate was nothing like the Starling super fan imagined. Rather than a grand mansion in the middle of the woods, it was a cabin that looked like any you would expect out in the wilderness. It wasn't as small as Drake's gray bungalow, but it was still unremarkable for someone of Mr. Starling's status. He supposed Jim would need to keep a low profile if he did not want to be hounded by the press, peeping toms and stalkers alike. The only notable part of the exterior was the knocker which was shaped like the wolf effigies he saw previously.
Entering the estate, Drake was greeted by the sight of an open foyer, walls a crimson red, but covered in memorabilia of previous performances of the owner. Every painting had Jim as the focal point, either posed for a shoot or with his co-stars. However, out of all of the pictures, one painting put the young actor in awe.
Right in the center of all of the memorabilia was a giant painting of Jim Starling as a young man, bright smile meeting his famously astute cobalt eyes, posing proud and posturing. Beak agape, Drake almost jumped out of his skin the moment Launchpad spoke.
"I like that one too. It's when-"
Drake and Launchpad spoke in unison.
"He had the big opening night at the Watson Theater playing as Darkwing Hood!"
"Were you there when he used the jump trick to take down QuackerJack?!" Drake jumped into Launchpad's space, the other not seeming to mind, who chatted just as excitedly.
"I sure was!" Large hands collapsed both the smaller man's shoulders. "Did you know they had only one take for that scene?!"
"Yeah! And they used actual water for effects when he was fighting Liquidnator! The guy even looked like he was made of water!"
"I know!" Launchpad lifted Drake. "There's so much here I could show you if you like everything else you've seen so far!"
Drake nodded amicably as Launchpad set him down.
"I've never had anyone else to talk about Jim with." The smaller man shrugged, hand stroked his other arm. "Either no one else knows who I'm talking about or they just think I'm that weirdo who likes the theater too much."
Drake looked up smiling shyly while Launchpad beamed down. A moment passed, and the manservant's smile faltered, then coughed into his fist.
"So uh, Mr. Starling's not gonna join ya for dinner. You'll be seeing him in the drawing room after for coffee and biscuits." Launchpad cleared his throat, hand stroked the back of his neck sheepishly. "He's sorry about that."
"Oh sure, of course." Drake blinked, bravado ebbed away to worry. "Wait, so it's just going to be me? You're not coming?"
"Nah, I gotta bunch 'o stuff he needs me to do before and after." Launchpad shrugged, his genial nature returned. "But don't worry, if ya need anything just give me a holla' and I'll be at your service!" He made a little bow.
Drake's anxious expression fell to a pensive frown. He wondered what kind of "boss" would drive this affable man to so much work, but refrained from questioning as there were more pressing matters to discuss with Mr. Starling.
"Oh, well that's too bad. Hopefully, we'll catch up later? Y'know, when you're not working." He inquired hopefully, tail wagging.
"Sure Mister M, ya seem like a nice guy. 'Sides anybody that's a fan of the boss gotta have good taste!"
"Ah, c'mon!" Drake flushed embarrassed, waving a hand dismissively. "But you're right. Not to toot my own horn," He jabbed a thumb into his chest. "But I've been a fan since I was a kid. Anyone that doesn't like Mr. Starling is objectively wrong." He winked.
"It's true and you should say it."
Turning to the source of the new voice, hues of a cloudless sky trailed up to the wide and russet-colored staircase, and Drake's heart was caught in his throat the moment he saw him.
The striking resemblance between the large portrait in the foyer and the man descending the steps was uncanny. The way the elder man held Drake's gaze with every purposeful step sent chills down the younger man's spine. The man seemed to age like a fine wine, wrinkles accenting his features. The proud, knowing gaze sharpened with intelligence and wisdom that can be earned only through the inevitability of living.
Following Launchpad's example, who had obtained his position before Mr. Starling: Drake straightened up and his gaze lowered as though fearful of insulting the elder. However, he could see from the corner of his eye, the retired actor looked bemused.
"Were you not taught to look one in the eye when you're being addressed?"
In a hurry, Drake corrected his mistake, gaze aimed worriedly for the other's approval, which to his relief, he found.
"That's better." Jim smiled, pearly whites flashed brilliantly in an orange beak. A hand easily came out for the younger to take.
There was barely a hesitation when Drake took it into his own, which were unfortunately for him, clammy and sweaty. Unlike Launchpad's hands, which were large, rough, and calloused from many a hard day's work; Jim's were small, well-proportioned, and smooth from routine care and living the high life. It was simultaneously too long for the contact and not long enough for the super fan.
"As Launchpad must have told you," Tone empathized to the coachman, not once taking his eyes off Drake. "I regrettably cannot join you for dinner, but when you've satisfied your palate, the drawing room will be available for us to converse."
"O-of course," The young man flustered, bowed slightly. "I completely understand, I would never want to impose or take advantage of your generosity Mr. Starling."
"Not at all. I thank you for your understanding." Drake had to admire Jim's composure even while seemingly apologetic. "Should you need anything before our meeting, do not hesitate to inform Launchpad. Again, Mr. Mallard, welcome."
Drake was then led away by Launchpad to the dining hall, although not without a longing look at the man he would speak with very soon. So focused he was, the creamy, white male did not notice the quick glances between Launchpad and Jim as he was led off.
The dining hall, like everything else in the cabin, proved to be extravagant and tuned to the owner's tastes. Cutlery was worth more than anything Drake had and to top it off, a gold and diamond-encrusted chandelier hung over everything in the hall. The food proved to be satisfactory overall: the fresh beast Launchpad bought in the market made Drake's taste buds dance, but what really sold him over was the lemon cake glazed with honey. Lemons were not easy to come by, especially this time of year.
Whenever he needed something, Launchpad was there to aid Drake, but honestly? Just having someone to keep him company eased the male duck's nerves considerably. The more they spoke to each other, the more they found themselves to be kindred spirits. Drake told Launchpad about how he was bullied as a child and was inspired by Jim to be more than a poor kid in the Canardian Village. Launchpad confided that it was Jim's bravado that helped him brave one night when ghosts and goblins were prowling in the streets and stood up to them. The smaller laughed, certain that the other made a joke, only to lessen when the larger looked on with a severe expression.
"So uh…" Drake cleared his throat. "How did you even work for Mr. Starling in the first place? You're so lucky!"
"Oh yeah! Funny story actually!" Launchpad smiled brightly, not minding the subject change. "He literally fell into my workshop chasing after bandits, I sure was surprised!"
"Wait, what?" Drake nearly spat his drink. "Seriously?!" He exclaimed incredulously.
"Yeah! He needed somebody to look after his affairs, y'know being a famous actor and all- so he came to me!" A thumb jabbed into his puffed-out chest, which Drake seemed to linger upon it a little too long.
"Well, I'm sure it was overwhelming and it sounds like it's a lot of work."
It certainly was a lot for Drake to just be here. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he would be invited to his hero's home and dine in the hall.
"Yeah, it was at first and it is. But workin' for him was the best decision I ever made!" Launchpad exclaimed.
"My life's a lot more exciting because of it! Like last year, when were heading back to the woods, we ran into a bunch of raiders! Heh, they looked really weird too. Eyes all swirly and roots comin' out of their heads like this-"
Launchpad demonstrated by making his eyes look disoriented and curling one red hair on the top of his head to make it look as though it was sticking out. Drake chuckled at the other's antics.
"So, you guys were coming back this way? How come you guys didn't stop to visit the city?" Drake inquired as he leaned in.
Launchpad shook his head sadly.
"St. Canard's a pretty sore spot for the boss. He doesn't like going back on account of 'the incident' with Mr. Borswann."
Drake's gaze lowered dejectedly, yet nodded in understanding. He out of anyone would know of the falling out between Alistair and Jim. Two friends found each other through the love of theater, friendly rivals of the craft turning unfriendly once they took different career paths. He once spoke out of turn with Alistair the first time they met, but immediately apologized after, which his newly acquired boss seemed forgiving. The blue-eyed duck was determined to not make the same mistake with Jim during their meeting.
"Especially since Jim found out 'bout his secret dealings with some bad guys-super spooky, scary stuff!" Launchpad added, which made Drake's head snap up.
"Come again?" Drake blinked. "I never heard that. I thought they just disagreed over career directions?"
Suddenly, the larger man's face went pale, his easygoing demeanor violently shifted from genial and conversational to fearful and regretful.
"Launchpad, what did Mr. Starling tell you about that night?" The smaller man pressed, blue hues narrowed.
"Uh...right!" Sweat dripped from the larger man's brow. "So I'm sure Mr. Starling doesn't want to be kept waiting yeah? You're finished right?!"
Without waiting for a response, Launchpad pulled Drake's chair and ushered him up and ready for his meeting with Jim. Drake made noises of protest, frustrated when his inquires were ignored, and was taken aback once everything stopped and Launchpad looked at him with pleading eyes.
"Please don't bring anything up about Alistair or anything I said about 'im to the boss!" Hands collapsed on the smaller man's shoulders. "Promise me you won't!"
"Okay, okay! I won't, I promise." Drake's hands held up in a placating gesture, concerned for his new acquaintance. Launchpad sighed, relieved.
After getting cleaned up from dinner, Launchpad led Drake to the drawing room, knocking on the door for entry. A "come in" from the foyer's owner is heard and the door is opened for Drake to enter.
"Good luck!" Launchpad hushed and gave the smaller man a thumbs up.
Drake nodded gratefully as he entered with the door shut behind him.
The room was no more than an extension of the memorabilia in the hall. Just with some personal touches by the owner himself. There was a lit fireplace with a picture of a beautiful woman gazing down at the inhabitants. On both sides of the fireplace were two chairs, Jim Starling occupied one of them, accompanied by side tables. There were cups of coffee and a plate of biscuits, the scents of both making home in Drake's nostrils.
"I trust Launchpad took care of you and your needs Mr. Mallard?" Jim was the first to speak up, and Drake jumped, startled, and blinked owlishly.
"Oh yes, he did." He cleared his throat and approached the seat opposite of Jim. "H-He was pleasant company throughout."
"Glad to hear it. Please, make yourself comfortable." He motioned for Drake to sit on the empty seat, which the younger took in haste.
The seat was soft and made with a fabric Drake could not identify. The ornate chair's arms cushioned his own and his gaze laid upon the side table. Searching for cues from his superior, the younger lifted the coffee cup to his beak in a delicate motion, taking a sip quietly. The fire crackled, empathizing the uneasy stillness of the room and Jim, who hardly touched his drink, left only one biscuit half eaten. Cobalt hues eyed the young man, as though waiting for the other to restart the conversation.
However, the elder spoke before Drake could.
"I appreciate you taking the time to meet me. You understand, I don't just extend my invitations to just anyone. And, with how after I left years ago, I'd rather not cause a stir with my presence in the village. Being an actor yourself, I'm sure you've experienced the gossip that goes on in these types of towns."
Drake held his cup in his lap before responding.
"Unfortunately, yes." He laughed airily. "Not to the extent that you must have experienced, but I am very familiar with such things sir. And I understand you not wanting meet in the city. I have a neighbor that knows everything about everyone. Bless her heart, she's a kind, caring woman and a mother of two, but the moment you would step in town: well, everyone would know within less than a week."
Jim chuckled with a smirk, holding his cup to his beak before taking a sip.
"She sounds like quite a character. Are you close with your neighbors Mr. Mallard?"
"Well," Drake blushed, gaze flittered between his cup and back to his host. "I know most of them, but her family, the Muddlefoots, are the ones I am closest to. No one really wants to fraternize with a single dad who's passionate about the theater, obsessively I'll admit. And...had a run-in with a supposed 'beast'." He chuckled awkwardly.
"Hm, what a shame." Jim's smile lessened to a frown, gaze flashed between concerned to bothered to concerned again. "I can tell you're a very kind young man."
Drake's face turned even more scarlet. His blue gaze bashfully lowered to his lap, uncertain how to take the compliment. The sweet expression did not last as Mr. Starling switched gears.
"Now, on the topic of gossip: how much do you know about what happened between me and...Director Borswann?"
Inhaling a startled breath, Drake swallowed with a loud gulp. The budding actor did not plan on bringing up such a touchy subject out of fear of offending his host. In addition, he promised Launchpad to specifically not bring it up. However, since the man himself brought up the conversation, suspiciously, perhaps it was alright to talk about it?
"Mr. Borswann never confided with me any further details outside of what is already known." He answered carefully. "I never breached the subject to him, but he did not seem to be disturbed when I accidentally brushed against it."
Jim sipped his coffee, he hummed as he set it down.
"I've known Alistair for a long time. He was never…" Jim trailed off, gaze hardening. "-known to be forthcoming about his inner most thoughts, unless they impacted his overall goal: such as that new project coming up. What was the title again?" He inquired Drake.
"Oh! 'Return to Darkness' sir." Drake smiled, happy to 'promote' a project he took part in with such a brilliant director and writer like Alistair.
From Jim's reserved expression, Drake's smile turned apologetic, despite his host being the one to bring up his former friend.
"Yes well," Jim continued without a beat. "While you are practicing for your performance, perhaps I can assist you into becoming my protégé? You are already making headway with restoring the theater in the village. Say you live in my estate for your education and then when we get closer to the show's opening night, Launchpad will take you back."
Drake's jaw slack, he let go of his coffee cup. Standing up, its contents spilled to the floor. He didn't even mind the crash of his cup as he stared at Jim in astonishment. Everything was silent to the point where all you heard of the crackling of the wood in the fireplace with Jim staring back, wide-eyed by such a reaction.
"S-Sir?! That would-" Drake started and stopped, unable to form barely coherent sentences. "I can't even begin to-this is just -such a huge honor-!"
His hands waved animatedly towards his host, who looked just as surprised. Nevertheless, Jim, being a master of his craft, turned his face from surprise to contentment from such developments.
"Now, I understand. It is a big decision I have put upon you. Obviously you'll need to discuss it with your ward but at least," He pressed a hand into one of Drake's, his gaze insistent, which the other blinked at. "Sleep on it while you're here? It's too dark to go out safely, even with Launchpad as a coach. Wouldn't want that incident with the beast in the woods to happen again mm?"
Drake's utter shock turned confused. With a frown, brows furrowed softly until a relented sigh. The older man was right about not only having to relay this proposition to Gosalyn, but to not leave so soon while it was so dark out. It would be pointless to brave out in the forest now. Especially if that thing was still out there.
"Alright. I'll stay til tomorrow. But I'll need to send a quick letter out to my daughter if that's the case."
"Of course," Jim lifted his hand from Drake's to motion to the opposite side of the room. "There's paper and quill on the desk."
The younger duck approached the roll-on desk, writing out a letter to the Muddlefoots and Gosalyn for his extended stay. Behind Drake, Launchpad entered the room to clean up the mess while Jim took his leave to give the younger privacy.
After finishing and giving the letter to Launchpad to send to the mail for delivery, Drake prepared himself for bed, the guestroom already prepared for him. With a pleasant goodnight to the manservant, the man plopped himself under the covers and onto the mattress which was a perfect balance between firm and soft. Blue hues stared up at the ceiling, allowing the gravity of his situation to weigh upon him.
Jim proposed for Drake to stay at his estate for further acting education, something which the young male was completely blindsided by. Furthermore, he would need to keep Gosalyn in the loop as the distance between the Starling cabin and the city was quite far. He couldn't leave his daughter, especially after everything she had been through before and after she entered his life. And the mystery of Jim and Alistair's falling out had given him pause, especially after Launchpad's comment at dinner. Was there more to this proposition than Jim was willing to let on? And why now, a season before opening night would he offer this to Drake, whom despite his admiration for the man, he ultimately did not know him?
With a resounding sigh, Drake turned on his side. Half-lidded blues looked towards his room's window and swore he could see a reflection of glowing yellow eyes peering at him before he surrendered to slumber.