Tinkering around|christine, INACTIVE

[ricketts]

'Got a job for ya, son.'

And Henry's eyes twinkled good-temperedly as he lifted his head. He was kneeling on the dusty floorboards, twisting a screwdriver together. With a half-plaintive, half-comical shrug of resignation to Hank, he started to dismantle the screwdriver again. 'Oh aye?'

'Yep,' Hank merrily replied to his young employee. 'Got a call-out from a lady, got herself a broken appliance.'

He rose up from the floor instantly, and started to take off his apron without any affected hesitation. Giving himself a shake like an old lion, he swept his hand through his tangled hair and turned around to a set of keys hanging on little hooks.
Acquiesced in this arrangement, before his boss had time to raise any objection. It didn't stop him though, he looked a bit concerned as Henry took the keys that were for the shop truck - which they had christined the 'handy wagon'. He cleared his throat.

'You're taking the the wagon?'

'Yeah,' Henry answered simply, and then, the truck behind ready, turned to depart. But before he got to the door, Hank clapped him on the shoulder. Which forced him to halt, and start, almost dropping the keys.

'You don't .. have to take it, Henry. I could take care of it if you felt like sitting round the place for a while.'

Henry looked profoundly astonished, the concern in Hank's voice leading him to ask, 'Is there .. um, something you're not telling me here Hank?'

The inner self thus addressed was most probably abashed by this solemn appeal, for his countenance cleared a little, as though he had received an apology from his own conscience. He puffed lazily, 'It's just, you know how I feel about you driving. Road signs and stuff .. '

What Henry would have said was uncertain, for at that moment he was considerably embarassed. Being an illiterate was embarassing. He shuffled awkwardly, Hank's hand heavy on his shoulder. It wasn't like he wasn't trying to learn. He had all these books - with big, bold letters - andthe nights he would spend sternly glaring at the pages. Often it would end in him flinging the book across the room in a spring of frustration. He controlled himself from flushing, and good-naturedly he recognized Hank again. 'Look, I know where the street is. I could walk it.'

Hank didn't look very convinced, and before he could be inclined to speak Henry broke back in, 'Come on, let me do something. I’ve been sitting here all day – I’m bored.' And he smiled at his boss as he said the last words with marked emphasis.

Then, not trusting himself to say more, Hank sighed softly and let his hand fall away. Looking down from his stately height, he was still unsettled. However, as matters stood, none of them could deny that Henry was a good handyman and just in his dealings with those who employed him. ‘Alright, just be careful kid. Put the keys back were you found em when you get back.’

Henry nodded with an air of satisfaction. ‘That I will.’ And left.

~

Needless to say, the opinions of Hank had no effect whatever on the good spirits Henry – who found his way to said street with much each. He had taken a wrong turn just up Wall Street, but he rectified that and swivelled back in the right direction. Getting out of the handy wagon, he shut the door behind him. On him he carried a toolbox, portable flask and a knapsack, the latter two articles strapped together and slung across the shoulder. Presenting an eminently picturesque appearance of the working man. As he started up the garden path, he busied himself with adjusting the knapsack more comfortable. Evening was beginning to hit, a broad stream of light falling, as it were, from the centre of the magnificent orb that was the dimming sun, shot lengthwise across the city, turning the puddles from the earlier rain into a mass of quivering and shifting colour that alternated from bronze to copper, from copper to silver and azure. The boulevards between surrounding buildings glowed with a warm, deep violet tint, flecked here and there with touches of bright red, as though fairies were lighting tiny bonfires on their summits.

Ascending up the small stepway, Henry stood himself on the porch and pressed his finger cordially into a buzzer-button labeled 'Daaé'.

[christine]

Christine was entering back into her apartment building after going to the church. Still holding her invitation in her hand, from Juliet, she glanced at it one more time. Perhaps, she could talk her husband into taking her to the Masquerade. It'll be fun for the both of them. Christine hadn't been to a Masquerade ball since the disaster happened in the Opera. Memories of that still haunted her mind. Looking through the mail, Christine took it up to her room. Christine then went upstairs, and went into her room. .

As she put her purse on the couch, she started sorting out the mail once she was seated. She placed the mail in separate piles. She placed Raoul's in a different pile, and hers in another. The letters of course, were separate as well. There were so many of them. Christine then heard a door-bell ring. Looking up at the door for a moment she went over to it and opened it. Heading down the stairs, she opened up the door and said "Yes? May I help you?" she asked a moment later. Opening up the door much wider, she just stared at him for a moment. It was the first time in so many days, that someone buzzed her room.

[ricketts]

The door opened, and a woman peered out and had a look at him. He returned the favour, noticing her glowing cheeks and dark eyes and very long, deep flow of hair. Henry looked down upon her compassionately. Naturally, much of this easy and mutual blending of character and disposition arose from Henry's own gracious and graceful submissiveness -submissiveness which, far from humiliating him, actually placed him in a polite mind, and made him content to admire her womanly sweetness.

'Oh, yeah .. um, Ms Daaé - is it?' He asked, and for reasons he was little sure of himself he lifted his toolbox, then waved his arm behind him to show her his truck. 'Henry here, from Hank's Hardware. We got a call saying y' needed a handyman?'

And he smiled benevolently. The evening was warm and bright, with a warmth so great that the birds were hushed, and in hiding under cool green leaves, the clambering roses round her porch hung down their bright heads for sheer faintness. In fact, just before Henry had left the wagon he rolled up his sleeves. What a fine, warm evening.

[christine]

Christine stood there for a moment. Studying his features. He was quiet handsome indeed. As she looked at him she responded to to the man and said "Yes. My name is Miss Daaé" she said softly looking at him. Still standing in front of the door. Looking at the young man as he spoke. Raoul wasn't home yet but he would be home soon. Christine looked at the young man again and said "Oh! Yes! Please Come in!" she said opening the door wider letting him through. She had forgotten that she had called for a handyman.

"I seem to have forgotten i called for you people to come check it out. Yes. It hasn't been working as of late" she said closing the door behind him as he entered. "Please follow me. This way" she said in her soft voice. And she walked up the stairs to the third floor. "Oh, and please feel free to call me Christine. Mostly everyone does nowadays." she said to him as she walked up the stairs and into the apartment. Christine closed the door behind him as he entered. "Here's where the problem is" she said softly showing him to the little area where the problem was. Christine watched him for a moment. "Im sorry, if my husband isn't here right now. He's the one that knows what happened. I wasn't home when it broke. Im not exactly sure what it is in the first place" she said with a nervous laugh. "Do you know what you could do to fix it?" she asked curiously looking at him softly.

[ricketts]

Pull of pleased interest, Henry pursued Christine on his way, winding in and out through different arches and stairs, all more or less richly ornamented, till he came into her home. Turning into the kitchen, Christine directed the problem and he paused, irresolute. Listening anxiously, he caught a look at the floor and saw he and Christine were standing on a wet floor. He waited a minute or two, then boldly advanced to the refrigerator, determined to solve it.

'Looks like you got a leakin' refrigerator.' It was true indeed. Henry's brows drew together in a frown of deep thought as he knelt and leaned into the appliance. Stretching his hand right to the back, he gently pushed the air fan. It yielded very slightly, and he tried again and yet again. 'Hmm, I think your defrost heater is malfunctioning.'

Patting his damp hands on his jeans, he twisted his neck and grinned at Christine, 'Shouldn't be that hard to fix.'

[christine]

As they made her way up to her apartment, Christine showed him where the problem was. Not knowing she was standing in a water puddle, she looked down and stepped out of the water. Realizing her shoes were wet and so was the bottom of her jeans. She didn't mean though. Then she listened to what he had to say and she leaned in the doorway near the refrigerator with folded arms, but with soft eyes.

Nodding to what he had to say, she said smiling back softly "Oh....alright. I'll just be over here if you need anything. " she told him softly and took her body off the wall, and went back to the mail on the table. Sitting at her end. Reading through the letters from her friend. Pulling out some paper, she began to respond to her in french. Coughing lightly she said looking back at the young man known as Henry. "Um, would you like me to get you anything to drink while your working?" she asked kindly placing the pen down for a moment staring at him. Even though it wouldn't be long, Christine knew he would be somewhat thirsty from working on that. She still sat in her chair, waiting to hear his response.

[ricketts]

Henry looked demurely up at Christine from under his long, curling lashes and nodded briefly, 'A cuppa' tea would be great if you're offering. I take milk and four sugars.'

Confessedly, he had a raging sweet tooth. If he was eating a cake, he would be the one to pick off the icing, lick the jam and leave the sponge. Without further word or look, he ducked into his toolbox and moved several things about before finding a screwdriver. Thus adjured, he lost no time in complying with his job and leaning back into the fridge and a few minutes passed as he tinkered and tapped, putting his light little craft to good use. The breaker strips seemed to be working properly, so did the ice maker. As he suspected it was the defrost heater warming the ice - and when he looked a little further he found the drain tube was cut and causing the leak. Proffering his plan of action, Henry lifted himself out of the appliance and got down on the low level, lying on his front.

The fore of his shirt, and jeans, were instantly wet through and it felt horribly cold, and he even shivered before he lifted away the paneling and peered into the lower compartment of the fridge, into the area where the drain pan was. His arms vanished under the narrow space, trying to set aside how uncomfortably wet and arctic the floor felt.

[christine]

As she waited for an answer, she began her letter to Meg. Christine hadn't seen her friend in so long and it had been two years since they last saw each other. Then she perked her head up and listened to Henry speak. Getting up she walked passed him she turned on the stove, and filled the kettle with water. Grabbing another tea bag she placed it in a cup and then placed four sugar cubes in it and poured some milk in it. As she waited for it to boil she looked upon him as he worked.

Then the kettle whistled and she jumped lightly. Turning down the fire, she poured the tea in the cup. Moving it over to the table where she was she said lightly "Its over here when your ready sir" she said softly. Brushing a few strains of hair out of her face, she went back to her letter to Meg. As she summed up the letter she placed it in an envelope. Finding a stamp she flipped it over and placed it on there. Licking the envelope closed, she then addressed it to Paris France.

After her letter was finished, Christine leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her eyes were upon him as he worked. She didn't say anything to him, knowing it would probably distract him or something, Christine just went back to her mail to see if there were anymore letters from Paris.

[ricketts]

Henry's mind was so evidently set upon the job, that even as Christine announced his tea he made no attempt to dissuade him from it, but it may be excused to him not having noticed. Nothing seemed able to stop himself from accompanying the task he had recently begun, getting up his steam and striving determined to finish. There lay a problem with the instruction sheet, the text was far too tiny for him to even attempt to read and he was too bashful to ask Christine's literate eyes to help him. That made him defy himself with his own knowledge, and that was where he went wrong. As he poked underneith the fridge with the screwdriver, he laid the tip detainingly on the rim of something he shouldn't have and a hot yet brilliant flash made Henry drop the tool and draw himself erect onto his knees.

'Ow!' He cried, unresisting to the reaction to wave his hand wildly. Nothing like a mild electric shock to get a guy started. Nursing his scorched fingers - either by waving them or putting them in his mouth, he still managed to find some humour in it. From his half pleasing, half melancholy reverie, he chuckled and shook his head.

Self-consciously Henry swept his eyes toward Christine, sitting at her table. Resuming the shy upper-tone and shaking away the hot displeasure seething in his hand. 'Well .. wasn't expectin' that.'

[christine]

Christine waited patiently for the water to boil. As she did so, she watched Henry work for a moment. It was really interesting to watch him to work and all. The whistle from the kettle started to go off. Then she turned off the stove, and poured the water into the cup. Bringing it over to the table she was sitting at.

After going through her mail, Christine looked at him and jumped a bit. "Are you alright Henry?" she asked curiously. Hoping to help him some how. Christine relaxed herself and she looked at him. Then she said nothing for a moment. Wondering if there was anything she could do for him.

Then she leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs and arms. Christine watched him for a bit. "You alright?" she asked again. Her eyes blinked and she waited for his answer. "Do you need any help?" she said in a quiet voice. But she remained where she was, waiting for his answer.

[ricketts]

Indifferent to Christine's suggestions, Henry lazily waved his hand and shook his head. 'Yeah, yea'. Fine. Just a little shock.' So saying, he raised his eyes and his face illuminated into a friendly smile. His customer turned her face and star-like eyes down on him, and, meeting his laughing look, she asked if she could give him any help.

Within a short time Henry had taken a liking to Christine, she was much sweeter than some of Hank's other customers. When he had his hands full with matters, Henry would run the job - as he was doing - and nine times out of ten, the person would wave him in, grunt in the direction of the broken appliance then throw him a note. Forgetting the former, he was both touched and disarmed that Christine went as winning as to make him a drink, sit in the same room and even talk with him. Henry, being a man fond of nobility of thought in any way. It warned off the scent of perplexity from his difficult and delicate mind.

In his sweetest simplicity, Henry raised then dropped his finger in the direction of the cup on the table. 'You can pass me that tea if ye' like.'

[christine]

Once the Tea was done she poured it in a little cup and placed it on the counter that was not to far away from Henry. Sitting upon the chair she watched him work and then remained silent as she watched him. "Alright..." she said softly. Christine watched him for a moment, and Christine sighed and looked at the other table. Turning back to Henry she just stayed where she was. Christine didn't have many visitors here when Raoul was out and about. Christine just remained where she was.

Brushing back a little curl from her face and she looked out the window. Noticing dark clouds rolling in from the south. Christine turned back to Henry once more once he spoke up again about the tea. "Yes, of course" she said softly. Standing up she held the cup in her hand and brought it to Henry. Moving back up on the seat, she continued to stare at him and watched him work. He was an interesting person and wanted to know more about him.

Clearing her throat again, Christine wanted to ask him something. Breaking the silence she asked "So.....how long have you been working for Hank?" she asked curiously. Christine had seen him around the shop whenever she walked around the city, and Christine was just very curious. Knowing the mans' name from the local Phone Book, she was curious on how long henry was working for him. Then she asked "Do you live here in New York?" she said in a soft voice. Still watching the young man work