The Queen of Tact--a Vignette

In honesty, I’m not sure where to place this one; we haven’t seen too many miscues from her this season… Earlier than later, I guess--or whenever you like. And yes, there is a great deal of me in Odilia, but she‘s not me.
Must I restate the obvious--the sad and terrible fact that I do not own them?

---

It was an ordinary day the FBI came by the shop to tell me that my landlord was dead. I was sorry--he was pretty nice as landlords go, and I certainly knew him, but not so well that I would be drowned in grief.

“Special Agent Seeley Booth, and my partner, Dr Temperance Brennan.” I sighed--he was an extremely good-looking man, and I would have enjoyed trying to sell him something. But the FBI doesn’t come around announcing themselves like that to stores like this one just to shop. I’ve watched enough TV to know that. Well, all right, maybe the corrupt ones do.

“Odilia Churchill. What can I do for you, Agent Booth?”

“Do you know a Patrick Byrd?”

“That’s the landlord’s name; I know him if that’s who you mean.” The woman--Dr Brennan--was staring at me and it made me nervous; as is my habit, I tucked my lower lip under the upper when I finished speaking.

“Yeah. What can you tell us about him? When was the last time you saw him?”

“He collected the rent on the first, like he always does. In person. Stayed and chatted a bit, asked how the shop was doing, gave me a commission for his wife’s Christmas present. I was expecting him any day now to discuss it further.” I paused for a minute, thinking. “Yes, that’s the last time I heard from him.”

“Is that normal?”

“Sure. Most months, unless there’s a problem, we only see him or expect to see him on the first.” I shrugged. “He will come by in between, but we never know when, or which shop he’ll swing by. Spot checks, I guess you’d call them. Why?”

Agent Booth was scribbling on a pad as I spoke, but Dr Brennan…she was still staring at me. At my mouth, to be specific. Great. One of those. I’m going to develop a complex one of these days, I swear.

“Remains found in Cunningham Falls State Park three days ago have been identified as your former landlord,” she said. Oh, now she’s finally participating. I shook my head.

“Sorry to hear that--he was a good man.”

“Did he ever say anything about trouble, fights, anything like that?”

I shook my head again. “He wouldn’t. He was friendly, but…private. His wife might know, I suppose.”

He nodded, and she leaned forward. Somehow, I figured it wasn’t to look at the goods in the display case. “You have a sizable hematoma on your lip; you should really have that taken care of. I understand there are several methods that preserve the shape and condition of the rest of the lip--laser, schlerotherapy…”

“Bones!”

I gave her a sharp, dirty look--the one I had perfected upon idiot customers, the ones who stopped mid-question, mid-comment, mid-complaint for God’s sake to ask about the damned venous lake on my lip--then deliberately ignored her, turning my attention back to the Agent. She seemed oblivious to my irritation, but judging from the expression on his face, he had caught it. Guess that’s why he’s the agent and she’s not.

And then she opened her mouth, plainly intending to carry on. Definitely oblivious. But he nudged her and caught her eye, shaking his head.

“But, Booth--”

“Later, Bones. Anything else you can tell us?” he asked, smoothly shifting his focus back to me.

I finished telling them (him, really) what I could about my fellow tenants’ relationship with Patrick, a few more details I dredged up from the last time I saw him, wondering all the while if I should go ahead with that last piece or not. Would his wife still appreciate it?

“Thank you, Ms Churchill,” he said, handing me a card. “If you think of anything else, please call.”

“Sure.” I tucked it into my pocket as they left, the shop’s layout allowing me to hear every word.

“Bones, you really need to learn some tact. You know you shouldn’t go around commenting on someone’s physical appearance like that.”

“I was only trying to be helpful,” she protested. “She may not know there are treatments available that don’t leave scarring--”

“Doesn’t matter; that's the sort of thing you need to ease into…”

The door shut behind them, cutting off the rest of their conversation. I wondered who had been stupid enough to pair them, or let her out into the real world, before turning my attention back to putting out the new pieces. After all, no matter what happened to the landlord, I still had to make the rent.

I liked it, and yes I can see a lot of you in Odilia. It is interesting, and it has a sort of late Season One feel about it, in fact it reminded me of the arrest scene from Man in the Morgue. Yep, I can totally see a S1 Booth & Brennan from about that time having this discussion. LOL Thanks for this one my Queen, it gave me a smile.

RM

Dawn, that was cool to watch Bones in all her tact. It seemed it was Bones staring at Odilia that got to her more than what she said. But even in the midst of death, life goes on and the bills still have to met!

Thank you both.

I used to have one of those on my lip, and trust me, when you have a purplish thing on your lip the approximate size of a pea, people do look. And comment. *grrrrr* You get extremely self-conscious about it. The treatment was worth every penny, believe you me.
(I had one idiot back when I worked retail, just about to wet her pants, stop in the middle of asking me where the ladies room was just to comment... My boss complimented me on my restraint, and very nice to say, would have backed me up if I had let her have it.)
But with all that aggravation behind me, I probably could have stood up to the scary lady herself, just the way Odilia did. Amazing how that'll strengthen your backbone.

Dawn, thank you for sharing that. I'm happy that you got to have it taken care of. I bet it was quite liberating to leave it behind and use your strength for things more productive than protecting yourself a bit from crass people.

I can't help but wonder though if there was a someone like Bones that told you about the treatment, or if it was something you found out on your own?

Mostly I heard about proper surgery, which I was a little reluctant about; a whisper or two of other treatments which I couldn't find more about. But while I had no insurance the last time, I went to a dental school here in the city; they're a little cheaper than a regular dentist and can be more up-to-date, and they told me that not only would the oral surgery clinic remove my wisdom teeth, they could take care of that, too. When I spoke with them, they proposed the schlerotherapy, which is basically a series of injections to cut off the bloodflow and thus reduce the hematoma. I think I had 4 altogether, which was one less than they thought.
I was bouncing off the walls the day they declared me finished! And really, unless you know where exactly it was, you wouldn't see it, and especially not if I put on lipstick.

That's excellent Dawn, and also a good reminder for people to ask around when it comes to medical issues. I've a long standing problem with the way medicine is 'practiced' in the west. As I told my endocrinologist once, I'd say most physicians are little more than witch doctors but that'd be an insult to the witch doctors - at least they actually care about the patient.

RM

Wow! That's really cool. Just goes to show that pleasant surprises can be waiting for you anywhere, because who would've thought you'd find one at the dentist!

Good story...Both of them. Thank you.

Thank you!