Checked for continuity, grammar, and spelling: May 3, 2011.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Ice Cream and Interruptions
Jareth lounged on the couch as he watched Sarah root through her freezer and pull out a plastic tub. She looked dubiously at it before slowly peeling back the lid and grimacing at what she saw.
"Wow. This has to be the worst case of freezer burn I've seen in a long time."
He was sure he had not heard her properly, for that statement made little sense to him. "Freezer burn?"
"What?" Sarah looked up and into Jareth's inquisitive gaze. "Oh. It's when something put in the freezer is there so long it gets covered with lots of fuzzy ice."
"Fuzzy ice?"
She giggled and held the tub out for him to see. "Yep." He looked dubiously at it as well as she continued. "Basically, the ice cream is beyond a salvageable state. Sorry."
"That's quite all right. I did not particularly want any ice cream anyway."
Sarah looked mildly, though happily, scandalized. "Not want ice cream? That is almost as bad as not wanting chocolate chip cookies! I'm going to put this in my sink."
"I can't say that I've ever had chocolate chip cookies," he called after her as she disappeared momentarily in the other room. He heard a loud thump, making him wonder if she threw the tub in the sink and consider how heavy this ice cream with freezer burn and fuzzy ice must get to make such a noise. He then heard her swear lightly and a muffled comment about making a great mess.
"You're kidding, right?" she called to him. "About the cookies, I mean."
He saw her pass in front of the doorway, heard her open a drawer, and then saw her pass in front of the doorway again with a large towel in hand. "No. Though, to be honest, I never had ice cream before I tried it at Clancy's the other night."
She poked her head around the corner. "You've missed out," she told him gravely.
"I believe you." His response bore equal weight and she giggled again.
"I'll just be a second," she said before disappearing once more.
Jareth smiled at her mood. As they had gone up the numerous flights of stairs, she had grown increasingly nervous as though she was not entirely sure inviting him in was a good idea. A few times, they met people in the hallway. Everyone said hello politely, looked at him with wide eyes, and then could be heard running to one of the doors lining the hallways and banging on it as soon as they passed.
Once they got to her room and the door closed behind them, however, Sarah visibly relaxed. She asked him to excuse the mess, which was composed of a few neat piles of books and papers on the low table as well as puffy white things she called 'packaging popcorns' scattered here and there, and invited him to seat himself in the same breath. He chose the couch and sank so far into it that she burst out laughing at his shocked expression. She told him, with her head inside her fridge, that the couch was so old and so well used that it had lost pretty much all of its support. She apparently had re-stuffed the cushions herself so as to prevent the springs from being felt, but beyond that there was not much to be done for it. Still, he settled himself as well as he could and, in no time, found it to be rather comfortable.
When Sarah came back into the room, she leaned against the doorway to her bedroom and took in the picture Jareth made. At an initial glance, she would have guessed that no one would have pegged him to be the sort to willingly sit in a beat-up, second-hand sofa. Even though he was dressed like a person and not the Goblin King, he still exuded a sense of class and style that would have been more appropriate to a CEO's office rather than a dorm room. Yet, there he was, seated as though on a throne. I suppose he doesn't know any other way to sit, she thought, smiling wide as she watched him flip through one of the books she had lying on the table.
He looked up at her and raised it so she could see the title, once again inquiry written on his face. "It's for my dastardly Literature class."
His eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "Dastardly?"
"Well, to be fair, it is not so much the class that is dastardly as the Professor. But that's the way it works. Only a couple more months to go and then I'll never have to see him again unless I choose to, I guess. But he's still quite dastardly."
He set the book back down on the pile. "And why is that?"
She shrugged. "He has a grudge against all students involved in the Drama program, and makes no secret about it. I could do without him, and without the course, but I won't graduate unless I pass, and he's the only one teaching it this semester. So I'm stuck."
"I see." Watching her cross the room, he slowly peeled off his gloves and set them atop his jacket where it lay on the arm of the couch.
When Sarah saw this, her eyes widened marginally. "You know," she said as she curled up on an equally used but better cared for armchair standing next to the couch, "I don't think I've ever seen you without your gloves on."
"That's true, you haven't."
"Why didn't you take them off before?"
Jareth considered how to explain it. "It's something of a custom among the Fae. Allowing for the physical contact of skin against skin signifies the change between a formal relationship and something more personal. "
"Oh." She thought about it for a moment. "How... Victorian."
"Pardon?"
"English historical period. They had all sorts of rules about going out in society. Big on what is and is not proper. There's even a whole book on etiquette."
"Ah." Again, he considered and gave her a sideways glance. "Though, for us, it is less about propriety and more about necessity."
"I don't understand."
"It has to do with the nature of Fae magic. Magic is all around, even here. There are those who are merely sensitive to it, others who can utilize it. With the Fae, it is part of our very being, woven into our existence."
"Ok."
"Because of this, when one Fae touches another, there can be an exchange of power, of thought, of... essence, I suppose you could say."
"And you can't control it?"
"Most of the time, yes, to great extent. And the Lesser Fae do not always feel so much of the effects. But when one Fae meets another, depending on ability, level of power, intent," and apparently the will of the magic itself, "things happen."
"Wow. Sounds dangerous."
He smiled gently at her innocent concern, knowing she was only beginning to grasp the basic concept. I wonder if you will ever truly comprehend what it means to touch a Fae as only another Fae can... "It can be. Which is why we wear gloves and bare as little skin as possible in company. When in full formal regalia, everyone wears a sort of magically enhanced makeup as well."
"Take no chances, I see."
"Yes. Although any more, most of the High Fae know better than to go around making skin contact with other Fae when unwanted. The consequences as relegated by the Court for doing so are grave. Only when there is a large group is it truly necessary, when things can have the potential to get out of control. Otherwise, it is more of a courtesy extended."
As she thought about what that meant, Sarah recalled something from her own brief visit to the Labyrinth. "But what about the Ball?"
"The Ball?"
"After," she paused, "after I ate the peach. You were the only person wearing gloves and everything." She thought briefly. "Though, everyone else was wearing a mask of some sort."
"Ah. I was the only Fae there. The other attendees were actually Goblins who had been bespelled to appear human. The masks they wore were reflections of their true faces."
"Oh." That thought was mind boggling, so she moved on. "And what about those who are not Fae at all?"
"You mean Mortals?" Jareth grinned again. "Humans, perhaps?"
"Well, yeah."
"Possibly nothing at this point, especially since we are not Underground where the magic is more pure. Unless, of course, I deliberately focus on it." His grin turned mischievous and suggestive. "Why, would you like to find out for sure?"
Sarah's eyes widened in surprise, but she met him gaze for gaze. He held out one hand to her, palm facing up, and she laughed in relief that this was all he meant. Suddenly, the need to demonstrate her trust in him came rushing to the forefront of her mind, though she had no idea from whence it came, and she immediately sobered. Meeting his eyes once more, she slowly reached out to place her fingertips into the centre of his palm.
Just before she made contact, however, someone pounded on her door.
Sarah jumped, withdrawing her hand as she spun in the chair to stare at the door. "Yes?"
The door opened and a young woman with short, curly, neon green hair poked her head around the corner. "Hey Sarah. Do you have the ke-" She broke off abruptly when she realized Sarah was not alone. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two people sitting in front of her. Sarah was seated in her regular chair, looking back at her expectantly and blushing like mad. But the man...
She had never seen him before. He was seated on the couch, leaning back and regarding her in such a way she was certain her character was being weighed in his mind. She was equally certain that, had it been anyone else, she would have been terribly offended. As it was, she could not help thinking that for this man to do so was nothing but the proper way of things. It helped, she supposed, that she found him to be the most attractive man she had ever seen in person, comparable with the heart throb superstars whose faces lined her dorm walls on posters. That he would be found in her dormitory was quite a thrill. In the instinctive way known only known only to females, she instantly recognized that this man was not here on a matter of business, was not available to flirt with, would not have responded if had she tried even in jest, and was none other than the Mystery Man of Sarah's who had been speculated over in every bathroom, dorm room, and classroom for the past few months. All this information processed itself in the few seconds it took her to manage a strangled, "Sorry, am I interrupting?"
Sarah blinked, then grinned and shrugged. "Sort of, but it's fine. Um, Jareth, this is Caroline Johannsen, one of my Freshman residents. Caroline, this is Jareth... King."
"Hello," he said with the hint of a smile and a tiny nod.
His voice caught Caroline by surprise. My word, he just rose at least ten notches on the Sexy Factor! She squeaked out a, "Hi," in response, simultaneously losing control of her body as her torso moved to get closer in order to shake his hand, while her hands remained glued to the side of the door and the door knob, respectively, and her legs turned to Jell-O. The result was that she started to fall over but ended up swinging from the door and hitting herself in the forehead with it.
Jareth and Sarah both moved to the edges of their seats and said, "Are you all right?" in unison, Jareth with genuine concern, Sarah plainly covering a desire to laugh.
"Yeah, yeah." Caroline responded, scrambling to her feet and shaking her curls out of her eyes. "I'm fine." She thought about being embarrassed, but decided she would never find out any information that way. "So, Jareth," she began, casually, but once more stopping as she could not think of anything to say.
"Yes?" he asked after a pause.
Caroline blinked at him, nodding as though he had just told her something rather profound. "Yeah, totally."
Jareth raised an eyebrow and looked from this rather odd young woman to Sarah, her face buried in her hands. "Hm..."
Sarah was still trying not to laugh. "Is there something you needed, Caroline?" she asked, peeking out from beneath her fingers.
"What?" Caroline looked at Sarah before remembering why she came, and deciding that it was not that important after all. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. So, no, I guess. I'll, uh, catch you later, Sarah. Nice to meet you Jareth."
He waved as Sarah managed to get out a rather strangled, "Bye." Caroline nodded for a few seconds more before bolting out of the room. As the door shut with a bang, Sarah shook her head and turned to him. "The effect you have on people."
He blinked at her. "What?"
"From the moment you reappeared in my life, you have caused quite the stir. Thanks to the residential gossip chain, everyone and their mother knows about those crystal roses you gave me all those months ago. And everyone on campus, and I do mean everyone, has been aching to get a glimpse of you since word spread that you had actually appeared. Well, you saw the way everyone behaved in the hallway. And if they're female," she shrugged, "well, Caroline is a rather extreme example, but you get the general gist. And this is from people who have never seen you. They're all fascinated, you know, and are trying to figure out how to get one of their own. It's very much the Mr. Darcy effect."
He looked at her blankly before regarding the door. "Enjoying your company has the most unusual perks."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Well," he turned to face her once more, "I can't say that I've ever been the object of such a wide variety of interest and attention." He watched as Sarah's jaw dropped. Before he could say it was only a jest, she apparently could no longer contain her laughter. It was fairly contagious and he smiled in response. When she finally calmed down a bit, he asked, "Who is this Mr. Darcy? The name sounds familiar."
Her response was to burst out laughing again.
Agnes was sitting on her sofa determined to not chew her nails as she waited for Sarah to get back and come careening into her room. She had gotten off the phone with Edmund more than half an hour ago and was certain that doom was impending.
"Oh, I am going to murder them all if they so much as ruined this thing in the slightest for her," she muttered to the ceiling. "No, that would be too nice. I'll stake them down on ant hills and pour honey on them! Or, oh even better, I'll throw them in a pit of hyper Freshmen! Yes, that would be ideal."
Absorbed as she was with considering other possible ways of punishment, the knock on her door startled her off the couch. Her first thought as she picked herself off the ground was to wonder why Sarah was bothering to knock. She then concluded that it was not Sarah at all, who would not have knocked in a moment of crisis.
"It's open!"
The door opened and Caroline Johannsen, who lived upstairs, bounded into the room, hopping on one foot in her excitement. "Oh my word! Aggie, you will NEVER guess who I just saw!"
Agnes was never one to fall into the Freshman enthusiasm for giggle fits over people who were seen. "Mick Jagger?"
Caroline gave Agnes a blank look. "Who?"
Agnes sighed. "You young'uns are in serious need of culture. I give up, who did you see?"
"Well, I needed to get into the custodial closet for some cleaning supplies and so I was looking for an R.A., right?"
"Uh huh..." Agnes wondered where this was leading and why Caroline could not hurry things along.
"So I walked down the hall and cause I heard someone mention she was in and everything. So I knocked, right? And she opened the door and there on the couch was -"
"She who?"
"Sarah, of course. And there on the couch was -"
"Sarah's back? Why didn't you say so in the first place! And she didn't come to see me right away? Things are worse than I thought. Shut my door on your way out, would you?"
And Agnes was gone, leaving Caroline to inform the ceiling: "Sarah's Mystery Man! Had to be the most GORGEOUS guy I've ever seen too." Sighing wistfully, she left the room, dutifully shutting the door behind her.