Help Wrongly Sought - John

[Ella Tate]

It was only when she was standing in front of John's door that Ella realised she was dressed quite inappropriately. For John, not for her. All she knew about John alerted her to what she would be subjected to once the door opened.

She even contemplated running back home to change but...no. John should be tossed enough not to notice. Hopefully. She looked down and zipped her hoodie all the way up to her neck.

She knocked on the door and waited for John to answer.

[John Thornton]

"Ella, eveni-" John had thought he was getting somewhat used to how American women dressed. Still, he was left speechless as Ella stood waiting at the door in what he had to assume was her underwear. "Dear lord, get inside, before anyone sees!"

Closing the door quickly behind her, John looked fixedly at Ella's face and scowled at her. "Why aren't you wearing clothes?"

He was, as always, in a shirt and slacks, yet they were not as carefully pressed as usual, and his hair was slightly ruffled which was unheard of. As far as he was concerned, he looked like a tramp. Or a hobo, as the americans called them, and he instinctively tried to smooth his hair down.

[Ella Tate]

His reaction was priceless. And as predicted earlier. She was rushed into the house and John's scowl had Ella raising her eyebrow. A smile was just itching to surface on her lips. John was possibly the oldest friend she had but he still surprised her with how old-fashioned he was. She found it cute and never stopped teasing him about it.

She pulled her gym bag to cover her exposed leg. "Don't suppose you have a uh...curtain for me to wrap my legs with do you?" She asked as she moved further into John's house. This was the first time she'd been in here and everything looked so...clean.

"Where's the booze ma brother?"

[John Thornton]

Thornton managed to get to and from the linen closet in record speed, passing Ella a blanket. "This will do," he said seriously, then rubbed a hand over his face in agitation. "Please, sit down." Waving at the couch, the englishman made towards the kitchen, and the shelf he kept his spirits.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. "I have... I have most basics. And ice. And soda... ah," pulling down two tumblers he filled one with ice from the freezer and poured himself a generous splash of scotch, before making Ella her drink and caring them, and the bottles, over. "It's nice to see you," he added somewhat stiffly, throwing back his drink.

[Ella Tate]

Ella gingerly picked at the blanket before wrapping it around her torso with a shrug. John was probably already uncomfortable having to had called her earlier, she didn't need to make it any more awkward by showing herself off to him. Even if she didn't really care how she looked like right then.

She sat, as offered, on the couch, leaning back when he called out to her. "Anything would do. Surprise me." She said, not really caring as long as it was alcohol.

Grabbing her drink from John, she copied his movement by gulping her drink in an instant, loving the pleasant burn at the back of her throat. "Good to see you too. So...how's it been?" She asked, making with the small talk first. John might need a little greasing up before getting to the good stuff. When he was a little more sloshed.

[John Thornton]

John was more then happy to down a few more drinks before he began talking about how it had been. In fact, the englishman felt it may take more then the entire contents of his liquor cabinet to get him to be willing to discuss how it had been because it had been bad. It had been very very bad.

"I'm still getting the students other trainers have termed difficult," he threw out after a moment of scowling at the melting ice cubes in his glass. "Which means smart mouthed children who have never learnt to respect their elders."

He'd been even more strict and stern then usual over the last week; it was obvious to most that the englishman had not been sleeping well. Thornton's usually lean face looked drawn as he refilled both glasses. "Ella," he managed, after a moment, "I am aware I am not, well, particularly cheerful but would you say I'm unpleasant?"

This was as close to self pity has he had been in a long time, and it felt very uncomfortable.

[Ella Tate]

"Aw, that sucks." Ella curled up on the couch with her feet tucked under her as she listened to John. "I recruited this bitch of a light manipulator. Near blinded me when I arrived. I blame the parents." She laughed dryly, taking a long sip of her drink.

When he asked his question, Ella narrowed her eyes, biting her inner cheek as she thought on the answer before shrugging. "You're not to me." She replied, looking up at John with a wince. "What's going on, John?"

[John Thornton]

"I could not agree more," Thornton nodded, then sighed and restrained himself from a long rant about the disgrace of American parenting when a child thought nothing of showing complete disrespect to their elders. If he could, he would have strong words to Mr and Mrs Rose, and none of those words would be God Bless You.

So he was to others. John shared in the wince and sighed heavily, hanging his head on one hand. "I tried to be thoughtful," he said finally, "and it was taken as an insult. I just don't understand... I know I'm not good at social niceties but I've never considered myself, well, cruel or deliberately mean." Looking up, he shrugged and took a sip of whiskey. "What am I doing wrong?, Ella?"

[Ella Tate]

Ella didn't realise what she said had a negative effect on John but it did and she was completely unaware of it. Had she known, she would have rectified the situation. As it were, she could only continue to listen to what he had to say.

Frowning at what he was saying, Ella had to laugh at his sentiment. "John, social niceties is overrated." She held her hand out for John to pour more alcohol for her. "And far as I'm concerned, I'm pretty sure you're doing nothing wrong. But that's just me. I'm easily pleased." She shrugged.

"What's this really about, John?" She asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

[John Thornton]

"I," Thornton said stiffly, "Do not understand why giving someone a breadbox can be considered a deathly insult." Even as he said it out loud, it sounded ridicules to the englishman and he ran his hands through his hair before reaching for another refill.

It hardly burnt at all, which was really not a particularly healthy sign, but still, a good one.

"I mean," he went on, fiddling with his shirt cuffs, "why would you let something like that spoil a perfectly amiable evening, even if you were above the bloke eating with you? Couldn't she just have said I was horrible?"

His forehead creased as Thornton scowled darkly. "No," he remembered, "She did tell me that. I don't understand women, Ella. And I hate bread makers."

[Ella Tate]

Breadbox? Ella mouthed, getting even more confused than ever. She had never seen her friend this frazzled before. Must be some chick.

"John...I've spent the past twenty-seven years thinking the same thing. And I am a woman." Ella poured herself another glass and downed it in one gulp.

"Look, John...I'm gonna level with you. You're stern, sometimes what you do can come off brash and uncouth. You can change that if you wanted but as far as I'm concerned, you're perfectly fine just the way you are." She shrugged and waved her empty glass with a lazy grin. "Then again, I've already had about four of these."

She poured herself another glass and looked at John. "So what did she do to ruin the perfectly amiable evening?"

[John Thornton]

Uncouth?

The corners of Thornton's mouth dragged down. This was not making him feel better, and he raked his hands through his hair before finishing off another drink. The bottle was almost empty by now.

"No, I ruined it," John said gruffly, sinking further into the couch. "I ruined it because she thought I was pointing out her weakness in making bread, because I'm uncouth and rude and unpleasant and exactly the sort of person who should know better than to assume he stands a chance with Clarisse."

Raising his blue eyes to look towards Ella, the englishman managed to make borderline despair look distinguished. "She will not have me. There is something quite crushing about facing forty and knowing no one loves you or cares for you but your mother, Ella. And a twenty seven year old woman who you met at work."

Emptying the bottle into Ella's glass, John passed it over. "Make it five then," he suggested, "And tell me how you're going." There was only so much self pity a bottle of whiskey was worth.