Putting up posters

Posted on Wed Dec 6th, 2023 @ 11:28 by Claire Cavendish & Matteo Beneventi

Chapter: Winter's Crest Festival
Location: the Blue Door Inn, a.k.a. Top Pub, New Cresthill
Timeline: Friday, 11th of December, 1992
2039 words - 4.1 OF Standard Post Measure

Claire had been going around the different establishments in the town, the posters made for the festival had come out amazingly well and she was just spreading them around, creating an open invitation to the people in New Cresthill to come and see the institute for themselves. The dimly lit pub she entered was a prototypical Scottish establishment. "Good morning!" She called cheerily into the common area of the place, hoping to cut off any possibility of anti-mutant rhetoric before it began. She knew this place was quite mutant friendly, one of the dubious benefits to being purple was that you were quickly able to suss out such places. She couldn't quite remember why, though. Who had been there that had given her such a welcoming sense?

It was likely the 'being purple' situation that clued Matt in to the potentially personal interest in the current patron's quest for service. It was the quiet part of the day, only the handful of permanent regulars took up their usual positions and since all were long-time friends of the publican, they rarely bothered Matt directly. This was the time of day where he was more or less left to the whim of his own conscience, not pressured to do more than the bare minimum required to ensure that he remained on the payroll. Not that long ago, he would have seen it as a perfect opportunity to set his own agenda; under current circumstances, he'd been using the time to repair the squeak in the service hatch.

The palpable pause in conversation lasted only a few seconds, enough time for those in the process of curing the world's ills to deem the new arrival not relevant enough to change topics over. That in itself spoke volumes, this end of town was very quickly earning a reputation for being 'a bunch of sympathisers'. Matt, almost instantly recognising the headmistress, hesitated a moment, worried that her reason for visiting meant something was amiss with Phoebe, and then realised that the redhead's desire to keep their relationship 'on the quiet' made it unlikely Cavendish would even know to track him down. Coincidence, then, but still just as fraught with opportunities to put his foot in it. He smiled, kept himself marginally preoccupied by working the hatch up and down to distribute the oil he'd just applied, and dipped his head in greeting. "Good morning."

"Ah, hello. I don't believe we've met." Claire put out a hand, though there was a moment of hesitation, a sudden feeling of deja vu overcame her. She wondered if she simply forgot. She'd definitely been here before but couldn't remember the bartender. "I'm Claire Cavendish, head teacher over at Avalon Institute." She quickly recaptured her optimistic and upbeat tone. "We're having a festival next Friday and want to extend the invitation to the wider community. Would you mind putting up a poster for us?"

There was reason to feel a little guilty about the slightly glazed look in the woman's eyes. Matt knew he'd been a little overzealous in avoiding Phoebe's co-workers but he respected her desire for privacy, even if it was likely he didn't know every single reason behind it. It felt awkward now to pretend he knew nothing of the festival, most of the past week's phone calls had included updates on all the activities the history teacher was preparing. That was before he took into Leo's absolute exuberance involving his toaster demonstration. "We have met briefly," he responded quietly, willing to give her that much. "My brother, Leo, enrolled with you at the start of term. I've been under strict instructions not to turn up and embarrass him." He smiled faintly. Given everything that had happened, staying away had been a challenge, but it was fair to say that most of his communication with Cavendish surrounding the school's recent issues had been via the telephone. That never boded well for object permanence where he was concerned.

"Right, right." Claire felt a bit concerned at that. She knew Leo, and it certainly rang true that he had a family member in town but it was difficult for her to remember exactly who that was. "I apologise. It's been a very busy couple of weeks." She put the posters on the counter and sat down on the stool. "Your name eludes me at this time."

"Matt." Another pregnant pause. The most awkward part was that, quite uncharacteristically, he had confessed to Cavendish his own mutant status when seeking enrolment for Leo. In this, she had known well before Phoebe, which was another reason to feel guilty but it had felt important to disclose, especially as he was usually very much of the opposite opinion. He was, after all, Leo's legal guardian and the last thing he needed was for their relationship to be completely erased from the minds of those duty-bound to alert him if anything happened. "I, um. I think you said I should remind you about the rose bush if you ever had trouble. Like this." He winced, not only because this involved far more information than he wanted to discuss in such a public setting, but because the incident with his motorbike and an unlucky rose bush was very much something Matt would have preferred to forget. As far as first impressions went, it hadn't been his strongest.

"Oh?" It took a moment for Claire to connect the dots. Matt. Leo. Rosebush. "Oh! Oh. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" There was something, almost as if hidden away, like a jack-in-a-box, it jumped out at her. The look on William's face at his meticulously groomed rosebush being ruined by a motorbike. The motorbike she'd seen standing outside the pub. It was like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Then a sense of anonymity, she knew some of the legal guardians of the students insisted on that. A familiar smile now graced Claire's features. "Halloween must've been very difficult for you." She spoke in hushed tones, knowing that the general chatter of the other patrons would drown out the exact details of her comment.

"Things have seemed a little worse lately, yes." He didn't go into details, made sure to be careful about any specific references. Plenty had been publicised and he had watched the headmistress' press conferences but he was also aware that conversations with Phoebe had played heavily into his understanding of details and Matt didn't fancy trying to think on his feet to figure out how to avoid disclosing awareness he really shouldn't have. "I still have a job, so that's a start."

"So long as you can remind me of the rosebush you'll always have a job." Claire gave a wink, remembering vaguely to have offered him room and board as well. Though Leo didn't seem too enthused about that prospect, which was fair enough really. "Did Leo tell you things about the festival?"

"Things, plural, might be stretching it. He has spoken at length about his contribution to some toaster competition." Matt offered a huff of soft laughter, easily affectionate. It was a decent cover for the sudden twinge of guilt at feigning ignorance when it wasn't Leo who had filled him in on the finer details of the event. Reaching across, he pulled the poster towards himself and picked it up to scrutinise. "It can't be an easy thing to do," he eventually settled on, lowering it to look at the other mutant. "Opening the gates at a time where the rest of the world is just itching for an excuse to poke its nose in."

Claire had considered this, last year they had only invited a select few from the town and the family of students and staff. It had been a conscious decision to open the doors more widely this year. "I know you despise me; allow me to say, it is because you do not understand me." The Avalon head mistress had found herself pulling more and more from her extensive knowledge of quotes ever since her encounter with the man calling himself Robin Hood. It was something she'd developed in conversations with her peers at the American boarding school, almost a party trick, and completely obnoxious for those not part of the in-crowd.

It was all new territory to Matt, who had never really needed to worry about what society thought of him because it was so much easier to ensure it forgot about him. It had become less of an option now that he was his brother's soul guardian, and not even remotely as appealing as it had once been in any case. He nodded slowly, understanding even if he couldn't completely relate. "Not much sense in hiding, I suppose."

"The only way for people to challenge their prejudice is to engage with the people and realise they're actually just that. People." Claire added to that. It was true there was not much sense in hiding, just as it was true that it was a huge security risk to just invite all these strangers onto the Institute's grounds. But for one, even without the open invitation people that wanted to do harm would make it to the school grounds anyway, as proven by the Rangers, and secondly after the Sentinel she had promised herself she wouldn't cower, regardless of what came for them.

"Is there something more I can do to help?"

The words were out before Matt could consider whether or not he would have felt better checking with Phoebe first. The next point of rationalisation was that he would have been attending anyway, Leo wouldn't have forgiven him otherwise, so having purpose beyond a proud spectator was really neither here nor there.

"Hm." Claire considered the offer. It was always a bit of a tightrope to walk for student's guardians. "I think I'd want you to come and enjoy the festival. I wouldn't want to keep you occupied during that time." A lot of the work came down to dragging stuff back and forth between performances, she also hired a catering company to keep people fed and happy, not wanting to tax Valjean too much.

"Maybe just keep me in mind if there are any...issues."

The barkeep's gaze was guarded, though he maintained eye contact with a newfound determination to remain present and accounted for. It wasn't something he'd really spoken to anyone at length about, not even Phoebe, though that was more out of fear that she'd lock him in the back shed for even considering taking a frontline position. Ever since the attack, however, Matt had been giving matters a lot of thought and it occurred to him, though he was still not quite sure how he felt about it, that there was a lot of scope to being able to dull the memories of those inclined to interpret them through overly shaded glasses. It was manipulative, and gone were the days where he didn't feel a twinge of guilt over that, but if it was the difference between an escalation of tension and keeping the peace...

"Thank you for the offer," Claire patted the pile of posters she had put on the counter-top; "I should probably get going again. Still have a few establishments to enquire about advertising opportunities." She took the large invites for people to come to the castle with her again, leaving three of them for Matt to put up around the bar. "I'll see you next week!"

Long after the bell over the door had rung to signal the head mistress' departure, Matt stood looking over the flyer with a faint frown creasing his forehead. With nobody paying close enough attention to his existence to yell at him to get back to work, the mutant quietly found the roll of tape used to affix promotional material to the community notice board by the main entrance and moved aside several older posters to centre the festival invitation smack bang in the middle. He placed another behind the bar in a location entirely of his own choosing and, for good measure, placed the last on the front window facing out into the street.

It was the least he could do.

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