Who: WJH, PXW, and Seph When: Now Where: Around What: A three act play: "Ah, Don't experiment on children in my basement, Hi" Warnings: Grossery and gore (maybe), questionable experimentation, PTSD, emotional abuse
[Someone else might have said 'Please, it's hardly your fault' or maybe 'It isn't an interruption in the slightest,' but those people are not Pellinore Warthrop.
Will Henry steps inside and, as many before this one have and many likely will, the door is closed behind him. The foyer of the house beyond is nearly bare save for the perfunctory presence of a coat hangar and umbrella bin. There is almost nothing hooked carefully across the baulustrade of the narrow stairwell and the stack of newspapers just there by the doorway to what must be a hardly used parlor might almost be called modest. It's a far cry from the grime and clutter infested house on Harrington Lane.
[ There are so many new variables in this question. Will Henry doesn't even know where to begin, but the pressure that he should know what is expected of him at every moment is still crushing. Don't be witless, Will Henry. Mistrust hits him with a snap, and he asks the question with a wary look in his eyes, ]
Are you asking me why I came to you.
[ Is the new assistant scribbling notes in the basement? No, Warthrop would never answer the door himself if there was someone else to do it. Maybe he just thinks he doesn't need one anymore, or maybe he sees a new world with new rules as a chance to rip the albatross from around his neck--
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Someone else might have said 'Please, it's hardly your fault' or maybe 'It isn't an interruption in the slightest,' but those people are not Pellinore Warthrop.
Will Henry steps inside and, as many before this one have and many likely will, the door is closed behind him. The foyer of the house beyond is nearly bare save for the perfunctory presence of a coat hangar and umbrella bin. There is almost nothing hooked carefully across the baulustrade of the narrow stairwell and the stack of newspapers just there by the doorway to what must be a hardly used parlor might almost be called modest. It's a far cry from the grime and clutter infested house on Harrington Lane.
Clearly, the Doctor hasn't been here long.
The Doctor regards him expectantly.]
Well?
no subject
Are you asking me why I came to you.
[ Is the new assistant scribbling notes in the basement? No, Warthrop would never answer the door himself if there was someone else to do it. Maybe he just thinks he doesn't need one anymore, or maybe he sees a new world with new rules as a chance to rip the albatross from around his neck--
You wish I hadn't come here. ]