They spend too much time lollygagging. I wish they understood that their unprecedented times are only becoming worse.

"You did what?" Hubert demands. He bites his lip and mutters French expletives under his breath.

"The man willing got into a fight with me," Alvaro rolls his eyes.

Though Maverick insisted they tell Hubert, and though he insisted on coming to make sure that Alvaro confessed, Maverick studies Hubert's small house rather than listen. It has one floor, with two bedrooms. There is no dining room nor sitting room; only a small kitchen in the entryway.

"He called Clara an English whore," Alvaro tells him.

Hubert raises an eyebrow. He leans back against a wooden table and it creaks beneath his weight. His dark hair hides his eyes. "In English, or in French?"

"English," Alvaro says, spreading his hands out on the counter behind him. "How many people here speak English?"

"Only Étienne and I," Hubert says, looking up at him. His eyes are dark. "The coureur de bois. Mon Dieu, you attacked the coureur de bois?"

Maverick can hear Hubert's voice rising. It's louder, loud enough that anyone who passes by the thin house would probably hear muffled shouts, but it is full of amusement. Maverick feels his chest tighten.

He looks at Hubert's tussled hair, and he wonders if perhaps the mess comes not from running through the trees, from joyous nights with a wife playing with it, and from shaking his head in roaring laughter, but instead from a madness spreading from deep within his mind. This isn't funny. Yet, Hubert's laugh rings through the kitchen.

"Is this a game to you?" Maverick asks.

Hubert's grins. He looks at Maverick's perfectly rolled sleeves and his double-knotted shoelaces. "No. It's not often that I am surprised. Mr. Costa has accomplished quite the feat."

"Well, we need a plan," Maverick insists, frowning when he sees that Alvaro is grinning as well.

Hubert shakes his head. "We need God."

Maverick really doesn't want to get into it. Even though he is a protestant by birth, he doubts that God is here for their salvation. "Not for Alvaro's sake, but for Clara's."

Alvaro steps forward. Now, the grin plastered across his face grows. He runs a hand through his thick, curly hair, before cocking his head to the side. "Not for my sake?"

Now, Maverick can't look away. His cheeks burn bright red, but he doesn't mind. Alvaro is a meathead, and an asshole, but Maverick wants him all the same.

Hubert coughs. He hasn't the decency not to say anything. "Right, well anyone in their right mind would know that Miss Bennet isn't a whore, English or not."

Unfortunately, Maverick still isn't paying attention. Alvaro sidesteps around him and wraps his arm over Hubert's shoulder. "Well, what do you say we go to something else that surprises me?"

"I think we've had enough excitement for today," though Maverick's cheeks are still flushed, he manages to re-enter the conversations. "Thank you, Mr. Tremblay. We shall be going."

They head out, and when they do, Hubert finally relaxes. He puts his head on the table, trying to flatten himself against it.

Outside, Maverick scolds Alvaro. "We are seriously in trouble because of you."

"Tell me that you hate me," Alvaro winks, looking over at Maverick.

Maverick crosses his arms over his chest. Alvaro keeps walking.

~~~

At the shore, Tim helps Ivy step forward into the bay. He doesn't dare touch it himself, else it claims his body for its own purposes. Instead, he watches as the white lace trim of Ivy's nightgown grazes the water.

Ivy remembers the water's cool touch. It felt so safe, so homey. Now, she feels as though its power is gone.

"I'm cold," she manages, her teeth beginning to chatter. She doesn't want to leave.

Tim decides that the water is not intent on healing Ivy, or offering her a deal. Perhaps, however, he can make a bargain of his own.

After getting back and noticing that Ivy wasn't home, Mickey resolved to go find her. On top of the cliff, he spots them on the shores of the beach. Quickly, Mickey jogs out to go meet her.

Once there, he spots Tim, helping Ivy out of the water. Her gown is entirely soaked through, hugging her thinning body. Mickey shrugs off his shirt, throwing it over the girl, though it does little good. As he does, he pulls her out of Tim's arms.

Tim doesn't need to hear Mickey's words to feel his anger. It's clear from the tight grimace on his face. Instead, Tim straightens his back. He blinks as he speaks. "She's fine."

"You don't bring a sick woman down to the water in... whatever month it is," Mickey begins to walk with Ivy, helping her back to the house.

Ivy shakes her head. "He... he was only... only helping me." She wanted to go exploring. Ivy was tired of being a sideshow in a bed. She wanted to feel the water again. She wanted to feel the Earth squish between her toes. Really, anything but the reality of living underneath covers would be a delight.

So, she makes sure to take in her surroundings. The largest bumblebees she has ever seen whizz by. The soft grass kisses her ankles. The forest is massive, filled with pine and birch and other trees she probably couldn't identify even with the internet at her disposal. This place is unlike anything she has ever seen, and Ivy prides herself on having seen a lot.

"I'm not apologizing when I've done nothing wrong," Tim says, interrupting Ivy's peaceful silence.

Mickey turns around. If he weren't supporting Ivy, he would backhand Tim so hard that his head would spin. "Tim, you're entire life is a mistake. You are everything wrong."

"That's..." Tim runs a hand through his hair, breathing out heavily. "That's a bit unfair."

"Just a bit," Ivy echoes, a smile on her face.

Tim doesn't realize that she is joking. He doesn't offer anything else.

Mickey, however, isn't done his lecture. He walks, brooding, trying to think of the best way to rip Tim a new one. Especially once Ivy grows too tired to walk, and rather than sit, Mickey is forced to carry her over his shoulders.

"You're an idiot, and you are a coward," Mickey tells Tim.

"Why?"

Asking that question is just another of Tim's numerous mistakes. "First, you refuse to tell us your name. Then, you have the stupid idea to go into the forest alone, then-"

"Clara told you?" Tim feels his heart sinking. He imagined that it would stay between the pair of them.

"Of course she did," Mickey tries not to think about Clara, else his tone turns from cold to warm. "That's not the point. Now, your shenanigans are endangering someone else's life."

"Je peux... I can think for myself," Ivy musters.

Mickey doesn't argue, but he doubts that she can if she were to go to the ocean this ill. Clearly, the Grip is eating away at her brain as well.

Ivy feels perfectly sane. She feels worse, sure, but that is the risk one takes in living.

~~~

Mickey left Adwin and Clara in the cabin to make dinner. Clara is frustrated, but she resolves not to leave all the cooking to Adwin. While she chops vegetables, he cooks the chicken over the fire.

"Well," Adwin sighs, staring down at the burger. He isn't that used to talking to women his age, let alone talking to one who he has so little in common with. He tries to meet her at her level, which he assumes to be the Victorian era. "I hope that man didn't bother you too much."

Clara scoffs. She stops her chopping to look up at Adwin.

His face, previously clean-shaven, is showing the beginning of stubble. He is short for a man, and he doesn't seem bothered by doing a feminine task like cooking. The combination is odd for Clara to see. Though she had gathered that he was from the future, she hadn't known that he was that far away. Perhaps, she wonders, even as far as Ivy.

"I know you don't think that we should talk about the future," she begins.

When she pauses, Adwin takes the meat off the flame. He stuffs it out, since the meat is cooked, before he turns around. "I'm waiting for a "but" here, Clara."

"Well," she begins, turning back to chopping them. "I don't really see the harm."

Adwin sighs. "When we make it back to our time..."

"What if I don't want to go back?"

He walks up beside her, careful not to touch her lest he makes her uncomfortable. Even though they are a foot apart, Clara can practically feel him. All of his mannerisms are odd, from the way he says her name to the lack of tension across his narrow shoulders.

"Clara," he sighs. "We have to go back. The consequences could be astronomical. You might have children. What if they were never born?"

"I'm barren."

She turns to him, looking him up and down. It is true, they have tried a great number of times to conceive a child (far more than Clara would have wanted) but alas, no child was to come.

"You're married?" Adwin says, his jaw dropping. "But... but you introduced yourself as Miss Bennet. Everyone thinks that you are without a husband."

"I don't see why it matters," Clara says, giving him the shoulder as she returns to cutting. "Honestly, my husband was a wretched man. I am glad to make him a widower."

Adwin shakes his head in disbelief. "But Clara, he could remarry. And perhaps he is the one who can't have children, not you, which means, that a woman who was supposed to have children doesn't have children. I'm not a geneticist, I'm a historian. This could alter the fabric of everything."

"Well, that's hardly my point," Clara says, even though she has found a new point. She has no intention of returning home, and she has less intention of abiding by Adwin's strict rules. "Just, please tell me something about your time. Please. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Adwin shakes his head back and forth.

Consequently, Clara stops talking with him.

~~~

Bev and Flo lie in the grass, their feet at each other's heads, watching clouds go by. They both pretend to be more enthused by the activity than they actually are. Bev would much rather be running through the woods, and Flo would much rather be intoxicated.

"That one looks like a sheep," Bev says, pointing upwards at the sky.

Flo rolls her eyes, but smiles. "They all look like sheep. That one looks like- oh good heavens what happened to your hand?"

Quickly, Bev recoils her hand and cradles it against her chest. "It's fine."

"Well, darling, it certainly doesn't look fine," Flo says. She claps her hands together and sits up. "I have a plan."

"Do you now?" Bev asks. As she does, she fiddles with her leathery skin. It has spread onto her wrist now. She worries that it will spread onto the rest of her soon and take her over. It is already becoming more difficult to move the muscles beneath her skin. "What is it?"

Flo smiles. "I am going to knit you a glove. Hubert is going to provide me with the finest silk that he can find here. Or, I guess, any fabric that he can get his hands on in this place."

"I do not see how you hate it so," Bev sits up so that she is facing Flo. "This place is so much better than where I am from. There are so many adventures to be had here. We don't have to do any more chores than the men. Adwin is cooking!"

"Let's hope he is any good," Flo sighs. She looks up at Bev and smiles softly. She wishes that she had her joy. She wishes she had her. End of sentence.

Which makes her stomach stir. She is supposed to be with a man like Alvaro, most definitely. Not a woman.

She feels a shiver go up her spine. She mistakes it for attraction, and not for the numbness. 

~~~~~

The next chapter really picks up. I promise. For now, we get character development, which is all fine and dandy with me, actually. Also, I've been hit with inspiration so I will try to post more frequently.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if your characters still seem a bit off, because I'm still getting used to them.