Somethin' new, I swear it (open)

A little blue Vauxhall Astra moved along the roads. Zipping, perhaps a little faster that it ought to, with the dull thump thump sound of the bass of loud music trapped within the frame of the car. Marcy always had a fondness for rap and hip-hop played loud enough that the outside world got a sense of it. One of her brother's had joked that it was here way of trying to look 'hard' enough to keep from getting car jacked. As if that was a problem in Grantown-on-Spey. Thugs had better places to be, no doubt.

Dressed in a puffed vest over a thermal, waffle print shirt with a pair of huge aviator sunglasses pushed over her eyes she was making her way. Her hands smacked at the wheel to the tune of the song and her head bobbed in equal time. Her ginger tresses where pulled up in a messy sort of up-do halfways between a bun and a ponytail. Messed up from too frequent contact with the headrest.


She started singing along as one of her favorites hit the shuffle function on her ipod. The song was a good distraction from the nervousness that had been living in her stomach all week. There was suddenly something unstoppably scary about this new turn to her life. Driving and leaving her old life behind. So far behind. Her old job, her family. They were rock and that job, the normality and routine of her life. It had been all the same for so long. And suddenly here she was, willing up rooting, hitting the emergency reboot button. Like the little white dot on the bottom of a Furby toy that you had to go after with an unraveled paperclip. When you wanted it to forget everything a relearn it all. From speech to their electronic soul.


She held back from the urge to punch the air to the beat and the some-what vulgar lyrics that so delighted her. She was just rolling her car into the little town that she was told was the nearest thing to the school. She rather not have the locals see her rocking out and dub her that girl who was freakin' out in her car or something. She leaned over to turn the volume to half of what it once was. Spotting the shop she found a spot and parked. She needed to piss something wicked and wasn't sure exactly how much further it was. She rushed into the shop and did her business. Then with a flush, a wash and a flick of the light-switch she walked into the main drag of the store. Might as well pick up some groceries for her new place. She grabbed a basket and headed down the aisle. Scanning the shelves for her favorites.

Pulling in alongside the sensible, little blue Astra was a car that was none of those things. A large, V8 powered sports car. Seven point two litres of engine, it drank fuel like a hyperactive child did cola, but it was Alex's pride and joy. A nineteen seventy three Jensen Interceptor, that he had finally finished tuning up after so long sat idle. The car was really not a good daily driver, not with an engine that size, but it did give him an excuse to have some fun on the way into town. This particular excursion was more of a shakedown than anything else, how else could he explain pushing the thing up over a ton on the country lanes that formed the winding, scenic route he took between the school and the tiny village they relied on for the basics? Well, other than the fact that it was far, far too much fun to do that. Probably scared the local sheep too, just for added amusement.

He hadn't bothered with music all the way here, preferring the sound of the engine singing to anything else. he was going to have to get this thing to a track day, maybe even a classic race, if he could find one nearby it actually qualified for. Still, he'd actually made it to the village without any problems, leaks, rattles or strange noises, which was nice, and making no effort to hide the grin on his face, he simply got out of the old car, locked up and headed for the shops. This town was too small to get much more than bread and milk, and maybe a newspaper if he was really lucky, but it was at least closer than heading to a proper town, even with the stupid route he'd taken to get here. At least the bacon he could get here was decent, from somewhere local, the kind of thing the TV chefs would love. Probably not intended for a fry up like he'd make, but still, it was decent.

Finally managing to get his grin under control, he headed inside, and got on with the important business of buying cider and bacon. Maybe eggs too. He'd seen petrol stations with better selections than this place, rather predictably, but pretty soon he had all he wanted, and it didn't take much longer to figure out the other shopper wasn't from around here. Barring the school's staff, this was very much a local shop, for local people, but he hadn't seen her around before. "Afternoon." he said as he passed her, giving a smile. "Let me guess. New to Highgrove? You don't have the lost tourist look, and I've not seen you around before." he said, trying not to look threatening. "I'm Alex, head of security up there." he added, offering a hand, wondering what she was going to be doing. Medical or house staff he assumed, she wasn't going to be one of his. Unless the admin staff were foisting people off on him without consultation of course. Wouldn't that be fun?

"Oh Hiiii."

Marcy grinned, at first she looked a little taken aback, but quickly covered for it. Occupational hazard of being a bartender really, the first instinct was always, "are they trying to pick me up?" There was something a bit tragic about that. The state of always being automatically on-guard and defensive. Though honestly just chatting or being chatted up her response wouldn't have changed much. Marcy kind of met it all with the same sort of easy-going general girlishness. And yes, probably a little bit of playful and little bit of flirt. That was the general direction in which she was wired.

And of course, don't get her started on the old men who are starting to loose their marbles real good. They had two settings most of the time: either pissy as hell or cheeky guys.

"Marcy Wunderle," she said, shifting her basket to the other hand to get her 'shaking' one free. She placed her hand in his with a fairly good grip for a young girl. The scottish accent obvious in her voice, the general openness of the sounds she made. "Yeah, well I just got in to town. Thought I'd pick up a few things. Ya know, the essentials." she gave a vague wave in the direction of the shelves around the.

So, would that make this guy her boss? What department did a Warden fall under? Did this place have departments? The place seemed ... so big and serious compared to what she was used to. It seemed that places like this would have 'departments'. Either way different departments or no, it seemed as though this guy was her superior one way or another. Good grief and she probably looked like a total mess. With road snack crumb's in her hair or something. She gave a little nod, reaffirming that everything was so very good or something. Her smile was probably her only hope of making a good impression at this point. Hopefully he didn't catch the earlier mad dash she made to the bathroom.

"Yeah, I'm a new Warden... I don't know if that makes me your bitch, or someone else's... or everyone's" She gave a little chuckle. Clearly kidding. "So which way is it from here? I came in to town from the northwest...."

Smiling, Alex shook the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you Marcy." he replied. Unlike her clear Scots, his accent was all over the place. Sheffield, tainted by his time in the marines, the middle east, and his long term relationship with a Kiwi. A nice puzzle for an anthropologist if he ever ran into one, not exactly a likely prospect out here in the arse end of the lake district, unless they were up here looking for inbred locals of course. Always possible. "Wouldn't really call this place a town, it's, er...for local people." he continued, quoting an old TV show. "Good luck finding more than the basics here." he added, grinning a bit as he grabbed a packet of biscuits from the shelf. It was almost a surprise the locals hadn't got to the girl first, but then, they probably knew someone new would be to do with the school, and while he had no idea of the general opinion of the place, he doubted it was entirely pleasant. That would certainly explain the stinkeye he got from the cashier when he'd come through the door.

"Warden? Not one of mine then. I think that puts you under Doc Rose, but I don't know him." he continued, giving a small shrug. Household staff and their boss weren't the kinds of people he usually had to worry about, it was hard enough trying to herd the kittens in the wards with the few guards he had. Maybe it'd be easier if he did have the wardens too, but he'd want better security in place before he even thought about raising that prospect.Too many things to juggle and the kids would be out of control before he could even think, some of them anyway. Most knew how to keep their heads down, but how many of them would follow a real troublemaker? he hoped he'd never have to find out.

"Depends if you're going the pretty route or the quick one." he replied to her question, grinning again. "I came in from the east, but I took the pretty route. Got to run my car in again. Southwest is the quickest way." he continued. Quickest, but most boring too, it was only a couple of minutes drive, nothing like long enough to have some fun with the car, the engine would barely purr after that, much less sing like it had on the long way round. Still, if he had to lead her in he could always just go out again afterwards, assuming there was anything left in the petrol tank anyway. V8s had a downside these days.

The man before her was definitely intriguing. His voice had a kind of mixed up nature. No one clear accent, instead offering hints and tips in every direction. Travelled people where always interesting to Marcy. Not tourists, no she had her fill of them. Travelled. That was different. More serious, more rooted, more intricate. Not cheap tricks picked up on the run. Marcy had always been terrible at mimicking anyone's accent but her own. The nature of her highland tones where too deeply ingrained. Like a plant working into her vocal cords and gripping tight with tendrils and roots.

"Heh, well that's what the internets for, yeah?" She grinned, snickering. She was used to smaller centres, preferred them in fact. City life really held no appeal to her. She liked clear air and plenty of personal space. Not to mention the sights and sounds. And to some extent the life of small towns really had an appeal to her. The tight-knit feel and the gossip. It kept a girl on her toes now didn't it?

Marcy was wondering if this home would mirror that a bit. The close quarters and full investment into the job. Even living there all together, rooming with one another. She couldn't imagine it being anything less than all that. It seemed as though it might against human nature for it to evolve into anything else.

"Ohh... I might have to go with the quick one." she said with a little laugh in her voice. "This is my first time moving, I've got so many boxes jammed up in the boot there, I don't even know where to begin. Holy Hell." She shook her head, letting her messy hairdo flop around a little with her motion. "It was like, I had no idea how much... stuff I had until I tried to fit it all in my damn car. My brother Mark said I'm too sentimental or something, but most of it's just weird shit. I didn't think I was a collector, but now I'm not so sure." She felt like she was rambling. She probably was, because really... wasn't she always. Admittedly she just liked to chat.