Closed Gold From The Ashes

[Rupert Cresswell]

While this afternoon certainly hadn't played out as Rupert expected, there was plenty of opportunity to be found in the situation. He had hoped that returning a few borrowed books to Montgomery would lead to some riveting conversation, some flirting on his end and adorable flustering on Monty's, and if Rupert were lucky perhaps even a nightcap. He certainly hadn't expected the news that his friend had recently lost his daughter. It had been some relief that the event was so recent - Rupert's duties in the Ministry had distracted him from his social life substantially, and missing such a monumental event in a friend's life would have been hideously embarrassing. It had still happened though, and Rupert knew precisely how he could be here for his friend. A bottle of wine in hand, he knocked on Monty's door for the second time that day, more suitably equipped to offer his condolences this time.

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty stood before the long table in his workshop, sifting through a pile of old drawings. Scattered along the rest of the surface were his tools - a hammer, a screwdriver, a set of callipers - and the dismantled pieces of abandoned prototypes, waiting patiently for repurpose. All were covered in a thick layer of dust. He remembered how he had watched the dust collect in his father's workshop after his parents' divorce. His mother had never understood why Monty wanted to take after him. But there were a lot of things she didn't understand.

A distant knock pulled him back to the present. Another visitor? Here? Who else but Rupert knew he was in Aotearoa? Removing his glasses, Monty set them on the table and went downstairs. Though he moved quickly, he did not realise he wanted it to be Rupert at the door again until he discovered that it was. "Hello - that's - oh... are you-?" he started. Try again. "That's so kind of you. Come in. I was just - well, I wasn't doing anything."

 

[Rupert Cresswell]

Rupert had his most sympathetic smile on as soon as Monty opened the door, offering him the bottle of wine. "Oh, not at all." He shook his head quickly, stepping into the house when invited. "I couldn't simply leave and have that be that after learning of your loss, what sort of friend would do that?" He added sincerely. "Wine is really the least I could do of course, if you find yourself needing anything at all I hope you won't hesitate to let me know. I'm here in any capacity you should wish."

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty took the wine and flattened himself against the wall to let Rupert pass. "I really do appreciate that, Rupert," he said. "Thank you." His heart was unnaturally steady as he invited his friend through to the kitchen. Grief seemed to have numbed him to anxiety. Or perhaps his loss had simply put things into perspective. What did it matter if he tripped over his words or said something embarrassing? He was alive. He was alive, and one day he would be gone, and nobody would remember.

"Would you like a drink now?" he asked, setting the bottle on the oak worktop. Why did he find it so difficult to look Rupert in the eye? "We could sit in the garden, or... I could show you my workshop, if you'd like. It's a bit dusty, but I was meaning to show you some of my work, before..." Monty let the pause finish his sentence. "Anyway, I'll let you decide. I'm just grateful you're here, really."

 

[Rupert Cresswell]

Rupert's smile stayed sympathetic as he entered the house, pleased that Monty had welcomed him in. He hadn't expected much more from this visit than dropping off the wine, figuring it was good groundwork for later. He certainly wouldn't say no to more time in Monty's company though, and he couldn't help but be endeared as the older man spoke. Suppressing a chuckle, he instead smiled warmly. "Well, I've never said no to a drink, but I am quite curious to see your workshop - your work has always fascinated me..."