It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

Learn To Play The Game (5)

"Why aren't you at the car, sweetheart?" Mr. Yang asked his daughter. His hands were on his hips. "Come on. It's almost dinnertime." He nudged her along back towards the car.

"Eli's mad."

"I know, sweetheart," he sighed. "I don't doubt that has something to do with me...being here."

"Matt told him that you think you're the reason Aunt Lin and Uncle John dying."

Mr. Yang stopped in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder at Matthew.

Lilly craned her head around to look at her father. She said nothing. She stared, her eyes narrowing, as if waiting for some kind of confirmation or denial.

"Lilly," Matthew warned, stepping between Yang and the girl. "Not. Your. Conversation." His words were pressed thin from exhaustion. What little patience he had for the topic was slipping away.

The girl glanced down and walked off to the car.

"Matt – "

"I know."

"H-how did she – "

"Powers," Matthew sighed, hands on his hips. "She can read people, sir." Drawing in a long, quick breath, he turned to Yang. "Let's not. Talk about this now. How about that?"

Yang, after a moment, nodded.

"What'd you draw today?"

He flapped the booklet between his fingers before flipping it open. The first pages were scribbles, obvious attempts and clear frustration. "I'll give it to him," Yang whispered, "Elliott knows how make me stop thinking too much."

"By belittling you?"

"Yes. But..." He paused on a page, turning it to the nanny.

What Matthew did not expect was a crude drawing of a dining table set in one of the Old Street exhibits, red gingham cloth draped over the edges while a decorated tea set and separate fruit bowl sat waiting for the home's occupants or guests. A book was folded open on the tabletop.

"A set from the 1880's," Yang whispered. "It was donated to the museum in the 1970's after being found in an attic."

Matthew flapped the pages between his fingers. The sun burned against his skin. "Why this?"

Yang shrugged. "I do not know. I looked at it, and imagined everyone around it. Coming in from winter, cheeks bright red, hot chocolate in the air..." He chuckled, a cynical sound. "It was like I was there."

He didn't press. Matthew knew asking would go only so many bad ways. "Still...you drew something." He met the man's not-so-sunken brown eyes. "How did it feel?"

He shrugged, saying nothing. "Felt...foreign. I am used to reading notes spread out over pages, diagrams and whatnot. So to draw a tea set was...it felt off."

Nodding, he swung his foot and moved off towards the car. "Off how?" Yet before Yang had the chance to reply, Matthew interjected, "Don't think about it. Just say words. Stream of consciousness."

"I, uh..." The older man followed him slowly. "Confusing. Agitating. I wanted to take notes, structure them, but drawing it felt so...out of the ordinary. Like I was watching my hand move on its own. Silly. Stupid and I am a terrible artist. I'm not even sure I drew a teapot. I kept thinking it looked like some misshapened gourd. I couldn't draw those little designs on it to save my life." A bubble of laughter escaped Yang's lips. "Lilly would've liked that tea set if she saw it. No doubt she did. She'd be an absolute mess with it, though, and Elliott would, no doubt, try to poison it or turn the drink bright blue, and – there is actually tea like that, you know. Maybe I should – " He stopped himself.

Eli and Lilly watched him, heads cocked to the side.

"And...?" Matthew pressed. "How did it feel?"

Yang ran his hands over his jaw. His lips. He quickly exhaled and met the nanny's stare. "Was it always this simple?"

Matthew shrugged. "I'm not one to say. We all operate differently, sir."

His eyes sparkled with something Matt couldn't place – childish glee, perhaps. "Might be a little rusty on all this. Might I come again on one of these excursions?"

"Sure, but only if your job say you can." Matthew smirked.

And Eli's groans mingled with the wind.