breakmychest | XXXVIII--video;

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XXXVIII--video;

[The camera turns on to reveal a frail-looking old woman in Victorian garb. She seems rather confused by the contraption, but she does understand how it works thanks to the general Barge run-down she's received. When she notices that it's recording, she smiles and sits back. She's on a beaten up looking couch and trying to look as if she's not uncomfortable with how old it looks, or how very modern the room is. She partially succeeds.]

Hello, I am Mrs. Anne Pratt. I hear my son William is a Warden here. [She frowns for a moment.] Though I can hardly believe this is his room. He seems to have... adjusted. [Her face smooths over, and she smiles again.] I'm very proud of him, even if I--

[She stops and coughs into a handkerchief for several seconds.] Excuse me. [She sips from a glass of water, then continues.]

It's not the direction I'd have expected, but I am certain he's doing good work.

[She smiles again, then turns off the camera.]

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[And here's a young man in a Victorian suit, with his bowler hat tucked under his arm, trying not to look concerned by your Incurable Cough of Death.]

They do have some unbelievable inventions here, ma'am. May I ask what year it is where you're from?

[Don't worry! The cough won't kill her. That's... her son's job. Twice.

She looks a bit surprised about the question.]

Why, 1880, of course. Though I suppose that isn't true of everyone?

[While that would be somewhat comforting, George is mostly trying to keep at bay visions of a barge-wide consumption outbreak. No time for that now.]

No, in fact I myself am from 1897, but most people are from much further in the future.

[George is just pleased to be from at all in the future for once.]

Even farther? Good lord. [She shakes her head.] I suppose my son has enjoyed that.

Yes, it's all quite amazing. Do you know: they have laundry machines?

Oh, really? That is astounding!

It is astounding! Extremely convenient and time saving. Although funnily enough: modern people don't wear much in the way of clothing at all. I would have thought they'd wear much more.

That's positively indecent. They dress like that here?

Some of them, but it isn't indecent. Well, it is, but it won't be.

[She shakes her head.] Perhaps I'm getting old. I find this place far too confusing.

Oh, no ma'am. I was very out of sorts myself when I first arrived. I think it's only natural.

And my son? William? How has he taken it? Do you know? [As much as his cabin reeks of the future, she wants to hear details.]

I'm afraid I don't know him, but I'll see to it as soon as he returns. We fellows from our time ought to stick together.

Yes, that sounds like a lovely idea. It seems he's been making friends here, but I'm sure he could do with more.

You certainly can't have too many.

You'll look after that cough, won't you? If you head down to the infirmary, I'm sure they'll give you some Heroin for it. They're quite clean and gentle.

Are you quite alright?

Oh, yes, it's passed, thank you.

If you're quite sure. I can help you if you're not.

I do appreciate the offer, but I'm quite all right. [Just dying slowly of consumption don't mind me.] I've had this cough for ages now.

Would you mind if I came and checked it out? It's probably fine, but it could prove to be quite nasty.

[Anne knows it isn't all right, but she also knows it can't be cured, and she doesn't want to worry anyone.]

I do have a doctor back home, and I see him regularly.

And does he think you're alright?

[Oh look, she's figured out how to make things private.]

...he does all he can, all anyone can, but I really wouldn't want to worry anyone unnecessarily. I've had a long, happy life already.

[he hasn't yet, so well done]

Yes, but I'd rather see if there was anything we could do...

And if it's contagious.

And what is your husband's trade, Mrs. Pratt? And your son's? [Depending on what it is, Aunt Agatha here (aka Lady Worplesdon) will judge you. Actually, she'll judge you anyway, because "Pratt" is a surname that sounds deplorably middle class to her ears.]

I'm afraid my husband passed away some years ago, ma'am. My son-- [She frowns.] A prison warden, apparently, but back home he was a scholar, and quite a good poet.

[According to his mother, at least.]

[Andrew's just going to gape for a second.]

Holy crap!

[Allow Spike's mother to look shocked and appalled.] Sir! Language!

[Andrew's eyes widen and he puts his hand over his mouth for a moment, then removes it to talk.]

S--sorry. Uhm... ma'am. I just--just was really surprised. I know your son. Spi--uhh, William. [He says the name sort of weird, kind of carefully. Andrew's never called Spike that before and it feels strange.]

Oh, you do? How nice. Are you friends?

[She'd love it if her boy could make some real friends.]

[Andrew smiles. He likes Spike's mom. He fixes his hair a little as he speaks. Something about Mrs. Spike's Mom makes him want to look more presentable.]

Yeah! Yeah, we're friends. Spike--William's real cool. He's always got my back and stuff. We--we've even saved each other's lives a couple times, too! We're totally best friends.

[In his defense, this isn't necessarily a lie in Andrew's eyes.]

[Unfortunately, this is less of a good thing than you might think.]

Oh, my, is this place that dangerous, then?

Oh! No, uh, not here. I mean, it is kinda dangerous here, or--it can be. But all that stuff was before we got here. It was probably more dangerous for us then there than it is here.

[Andrew doesn't even realize really what he's saying or what kind of affect it might have in this situation and just says it. And no one should be surprised.]

You knew my son before he came here? He never mentioned you. [She frowns for a moment.] Are you a poet too? And London's hardly that dangerous, not for a smart boy like William.

[Somewhere, Spike is considering staking himself.]

Uhm, I've done... some poetry... [In Klingon.] But, uh, I was really talking about... uh, later. [How does he save himself in this without telling Mrs. Spike's Mom that her son becomes a vampire and kills a whole bunch of people and makes out with the Slayer? That would probably give her a heart attack... After all, nice Victorian lady like her, she'd probably look at Buffy and think she was some kind of prostitute.]

Like, uh, there's stuff in... your future. That's when I meet Sp--William. [That is HARD.] I'm from the future, basically!

What is it you keep calling him? "Spike?" Is that... a future name? And your accent, it's American.

Oh, yeah, I'm from America. And... uh... Spike is just a--a nickname. You know, like... Bill or Willy... Spike. I always call him that and not William, so I keep messing up. Sorry.

[A bit mystified.] When did he go to America? Does everyone in America use such strange names?

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