Love is in the air

[npc-excolo.livejournal.com]

Sunday, February 14th
Valentine's Day

I sit on my bed with my legs crossed, writing real careful in my notebook. MRS CLARA GRANGER I write, all tidy, then underneath I practice my signature. Clara Granger. That nice man at the market swore it wouldn't take too long for him to propose after he drank the potion. After I practice my signature a few times I write our names together. PETER AND CLARA, and I put them inside a nice big heart.

I hear Momma shouting for me and I sigh. I know she won't approve when Peter and I get together, cos he is a bunch older than me and she says seventeen is way too young to settle down. But I know she married Pop at nineteen, so she's just a hypocrite. And Peter's a real good catch - got his own job, his own place. There's that Maya of course to worry about, I think, and I push my pencil a bit too hard into the page and the point breaks. But once Peter's had the potion he won't remember that he likes her. I just need to work out how to get it to him.

Momma shouts again.

"Coming!" I shout. I know she wants me to go to that dumb Valentine's market and help her sell quilts. Ugh. But Peter might be around town, so I check my hair is nice before I go down.

***

This punch just don't look too appetising. I sigh and shout for Clara again. What is that girl doing? Probably dreaming about that barman. She thinks I don't know she's moony about him. I'm just glad he's got a sweetheart, or else he might go for my Clara - she's real pretty and men like adoring girls. He's much too old for her. I taste the punch and it's real nice, course it is, made from our fruits, but the colour just don't pop. Feeling a bit guilty, I get out some food colourant and drop it in, and it goes a nice reddish colour. That's about right for Valentine's, ain't it? I stopper up the barrel. Clara comes down.

"Get those quilts in the cart, will you?" I say, hustling her out and then getting the punch on the wagon. Roads are clear, so we get set up easy. Just a few stalls for this - jewellery, flowers, all kinds of novelties. I put out the prettiest quilts - maybe some guy'll think one'd make a nice present for his wife, and more practical than earbobs - and set up the punch.

"Free punch, sir?" I say, holding out a cup. After a bit of prodding I get Clara dishing up punch too. Hopefully it'll be a good day.

[OPEN]
[Closed]

Comments

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

It was nearly three when I got in last night. Tips weren’t too bad, though, and for as many people as we had in, only a few of them were looking to start fights. I was kind of hoping Arkady might come by, but if he was there, I didn’t see him. Not that I would have been in a position to pay attention to him if he had. Too busy working to talk and too tired afterwards for anything else. It was late morning by the time I felt like moving, and it still took about three cups of tea to get me out the door. Figured going out was better than staying in and thinking about the long list of things that I need to think about. It took seeing the market with everything set up and decorated to remind me what day it is.

Never had much use for the holiday, myself. Makes people spend money they don’t have on things they don’t need in the name of love and sex that would be just the same any other day of the year. People just feel the need to dress it up on this one. It does mean more business for people selling things, I guess, and more business for the midwives nine months from now. Guess that’s a good thing.

There are enough people out today, and enough things to look at that I decide to stay around. Looking’s free, and I can keep my ears open for someone who might be hiring for day work. There’s a cart full of bright quilts that catches my eye, and I go over to finger them. It’s getting almost too warm for quilts, but they’re well made. The woman selling them asks me if I’d like to buy one for my wife, and I give her look to say, Do I look like I’ve got a wife? She looks sort of put out, but she does ask me if I’d like a glass of punch. I would, because it’s free and looks sweet and possibly alcoholic.

I recognize the girl who hands me the cup as the one who’s been mooning after Peter. Hope she doesn’t recognize me and start asking after him. I’ve heard enough from him about her and how she pesters him. And if he’s not talking about her, he’s talking about Maya and how she, well, doesn’t pester him. I’m glad for him, but he talks a hell of a lot more now than he did before.

I finish the punch a little quicker than I’d like and hand the cup back before she can ask me if I work at Whitechapel or if I wouldn’t like to take a second look at a quilt. Wonder if there’s anywhere giving out free coffee?

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

There's no patients. There were no midnight iterruptions, or brawls in the street. No riots, no charging knights... I got a decent night's sleep, and no one woke me up early, and it's actually sunny and bright...

it's going to be a wonderful day.

It's also Valentine's day. I am hoping to coax Miao out to dinner later, but I've got time to kill, and they're having a market in town so I think; why the hell not? Maybe I can find something nice for Miao.

With hands stuffed in my old jean's pockets, I wander around smiling and making small talk with those people I know and that I know won't rope me into a medical discussion.

I see Mrs. Linnet is selling her quilts and giving out some type of free drink. I don't really see Miao as the quilt type, I was thinking more a necklace or earrings... but there's a smaller quilt on display, in pinks and white. And, well... Wanda is having a girl. With a rueful sigh, I pick that up for her, and take a cup of the punch from Clara. I down it and thank them before moving on. My head turns as I try to fold the quilt as small as I can and look at a stand of flowers---

OOOF!

"Oh hey, I am so sorry!" I exclaim as I walk right into Jarmyn. I grab his arm to steady myself before we both go down.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I’m turning away to go look for some coffee, even if I have to pay for it, when a solid form bumps into me. I register long blond hair, but it’s a man’s voice and a man’s hand on my arm. Not too many people in town that could be. “Good morning, doc,” I say as he apologizes for bumping into me.

We didn’t meet under very good circumstances before, and he heard me say some things I wish he hadn’t, but I’m actually glad to see him. Not sure what’s the point of putting out your hand to shake with someone already grabbing your arm, but it seems the polite thing to do. “Meant to ask if you’d gone by the abbey to see Tarquin, and if he’s doing all right.” Asking about Tarquin might not be the smartest thing to do, but I am honestly worried about the kid. Worst he can do is tell me it’s none of my business.

Really hope he doesn’t, though. Rather not start this morning off like that. And the more I look at him, the more I really want him to like me. It registered that he was a fine-looking man before, that morning in the jail, but now I’m starting to think with that hair and those blue eyes and the way he’s built, that I haven’t really seen a better looking man in town. And he looks like someone who takes charge of things and fixes them, which I happen to feel is a very attractive quality. Makes me want to just hand myself over to him and see what he wants to do.

I’m standing there thinking all this stuff, and I realize I’m staring. Kind of shake my head to clear it and offer him a smile.

[mister-foxton.livejournal.com]

I suppose it is all very nice. The town does like an opportunity for celebration, and it lifts people's spirits - particularly with the winter still draggling on and some stores running low. It is hardly a festival to my taste, but I can hardly begrudge people their entertainments.

Thinking of such matters, I still have hopes of the endeavour with Miss Galliard, though I have heard nothing from her of late. I should perhaps send her a note and ask her to call upon me soon. I am sufficiently distracted by this thought that I forget to avoid Mrs Linnet's eye as I pass by her stall.

Damnation. I am, of course, compelled by politeness to stop, and she offers me a sample of some rather alarmingly-coloured fruit cup. Now I shall feel all but compelled to take purchase of something, even though I have no use for her fripperies. I suppose a quilt can always be stashed away in the back of Mrs Betton's linen closet with no one any the wiser. I take a sip of the drink - a pleasant enough fruit punch, though hardly to my taste.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

I was certainly not planning on coming out today, but when I woke I remembered it was Sunday, and while I do not attend services every week I felt it was perhaps expedient to go. People are still coming into little clusters after the riot, twitching towards normalcy or vindication the way that exposed muscle will flex away from a scalpel's point. It cannot, I think, do any harm to come out.

And of course, after service I was simply heading home and found that the market was in place. It quite surprised me to think I have been in Excolo so long... I did plan to winter here, but I had not quite realized it had already been three months. And it is a lovely day, all told.

There is little of interest to me personally, although I do find myself thinking of what she might like. A pair of necklaces, perhaps...? Necklace and earrings? I do not think there is anything here which could begin to do her justice. I stop briefly by one of the stalls and am glancing over the quilts when I notice a familiar face.

"Mr. Manqueller," I say, smiling politely and finishing my cup so that I can set it down. "How have you been?"

[mister-foxton.livejournal.com]

"Mr. Manqueller. How have you been?"

I turn, and - "Mr Sagert. What a pleasant surprise. I hope I find you well?" Thank heavens, the man has saved me. And his company is, indeed, pleasant.

I look around for a place to set my cup down, shift it to my other hand, and finally wedge it among the quilts where it will not spill. I clasp his hand warmly. "I hope Excolo is treating you well. You came through - recent events - without too much trouble, I hope?"

I wonder if perhaps I should invite him for tea? It is not a cold day, but perhaps he would care to sit down.

[marbasthefallen.livejournal.com]

I have been trying to keep an eye on Lucien for the last several days now, ever since the riot. When I saw him slip into the building the mob was trying to break into...

well I can honestly say I know what humans mean when they say; you nearly gave me a heart attack!

Dammit! Cannot have him running off and getting himself killed. Unless of course I am the one doing the killing.

I am Marbas, I could just go right up and slit his throat in the middle of this crowded market, for as soon as his life flee's, I shall be restored.

But CeCe is still human, more or less. If we are to remain in Excolo, then I still must keep my human guise, so killing spree's whilst in the flesh suit are right out.

I doubt very much I will get the chance to kill the poor man today, for his mind seems to be on romance and I am sure he will be spending the night with the Asian whore, but you never know... so I follow at a discrete distance.

I stop and loiter at the quilt stand to watch him converse with another man and the sin eater, taking the cup from the Linnet girl and thanking her absently beofre I sip.

[catherineknight.livejournal.com]

It is a good morning for a ride; cool, but not cold enough to stiffen muscles, and with no ice on the ground to cause slips and stumbles. So Hirondelle and I have an easy canter through the park, and as I'm walking her on the loose rein I see the bustle of the market setting up on Main Street. It's too crowded to ride, but I dismounted and lead Hirondelle down the street. She's used to crowds, and I was curious.

There is a stand set up displaying quilts, jams, fruits, handicrafts. The young girl watching it offered Hirondelle an apple, and passed me a cup of some bright red drink. I thanked her for both, though I have no money to purchase her goods. Hirondelle chews contentedly on her apple as I lead her away, taking a sip from my cup.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

This morning I brought Hermia breakfast in bed, and we had a most pleasant start to the day... But now she is curled up by the fire with a book, and I am hoping that I might find her a little trinket or two at this market. I've looked at a couple of stalls but nothing has particularly struck me... And then Clara Linnet offers me a glass of punch. She's quite polite to me, and asks very carefully after Peter. Poor man. She must be at least ten years younger than him, and she's terribly enthusiastic. I don't think he quite knows how to deal with it. Maya is not very impressed, and I for one would not mess with the Marsh women. But I take the cup of punch she gives me and I compliment her mother's quilts, and then I stroll along a little, looking at the stalls.

[tess-thiess.livejournal.com]

I yawn and think 'v goin' back - home - t'get another cup 'a coffee. I never drank it 'afore Kate, and now some days it feels like I can't even get out 'v the - our - house without it.

She's definitely more 'v a mornin' person than me. I had hardly rubbed the sleep out 'a my eyes when she gave me a present, little gingerbread figures in a jar. She'd told me 'bout Valentine's when she was a girl 'afore today, so even though we never really celebrated it out on the farms I knew what it meant.

I tied some ribbon Johnny gave me t'her door 'afore I left this mornin', purple 'n white 'n red braided together. I hope we got back together, so I can see her face when she sees it.

The market's crowded, more 'n usual. Folks 'r talkin' a bit too loud, tryin' too hard t'act happy 'n carefree like they wasn't just bayin' fer blood not too long ago. I get some looks from folks, and 'f it's fer Kate 'r few what happened I can't tell.

"Good morning Mr. Laclos," I greet him as I cross his path. I never found out 'f Hermia 'r Glass told him 'bout Wanda - I hope they did. The more folks as know, the easier it'll be t'take steps.

"How're you doin'? Is Hermia well?"

[nunaunet.livejournal.com]

Ain't been too keen on going into town aftah what happened on Monday, ayuh, but I had to be at the market yesterday, and it went alright. No moah comments than I'm used to. So I risk a stroll round to this Valentine's market. I ain't got no time for romance for myself, but though it's a made up holiday theah's things underneath it, powahful things, of sex and fertility. Things I like. So I go on out an' raise my eyebrows at the geegaws an' feel the pulse of the place. Little bit of magic in a day like today, all that history behind it.

Some pouty-faced girl gives me a cup of punch. Thank her well enough, an' I look at the cup a bit doubtful. Ain't suah I want it.

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

I went to see Reed today.

I explained to her, as I sat outside of her cell, that I could not trust the safety of my house and all those within it to someone who would incite a riot. I explained to her that I could not trust someone who would demand the blood of a man not yet proven guilty. I simply could not put our lives in the hands of such a person. And so, though it broke my heart, though I agonized over it for many nights, I had to fire her.

She protested. She told me that she was trying to protect me. She was trying to protect me by destroying this murderer, and she was trying to protect me when she attacked the building. She told me that she thought that "demon"...Mr. Hollow...was giving me to the man in the cells. It became clear to me in that moment that she had taken leave of all her senses, and I was forced to harden my resolve. She could stay at Follow Me Boy until she had made other arrangements, I said, but as of now she was no longer an employee.

Reed's face shut down, and she hardly nodded when I told her that she could come and see me if there was anything she needed. And then I was forced to leave, for I had no wish to weep in front of her. Reed has become part of my little family at Follow Me Boy. Turning her away wounded my very soul.

My eyes were still red when I finally left the sheriff's office. The market is in full bustle, and as I limp past a stall a young girl presses a cup into my hands. The liquid inside is a deep red, and smells of apples. Perhaps a drink would do me some good. I ask the girl as well, in a burst of inspiration, if they would please bring some of the punch to the sheriff's office, for Mr. Hollow and for the prisoners. She seems reluctant, but I press a generous tip into her palm and she agrees. Perhaps this will lighten everyone's hearts.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Been a hard bloody few weeks on th'Lot.

'ere's a few folks't say we oughta rescue Ben'dict. 'ere's more't say lettim swing, an'at's gen'rally th'same number'a people't suspect'e did't. Me, I can't say fer sure neither way, but I know't th'town ain't lettin'im go, an'ere's pretty much fuck all we c'n do 'bout't.

Azzit is, wand'rin' inta town's gotten bloody dang'rous. Nonna th'younger kids come inta town 'lone no more, neither do a lotta th'women. An' jes' 'bout all ovvus've quit comin' t'town fer reasons other'n bizness. Even'en, 'ere's a good number'a merchants't've quit sellin' t'us, an'I get a couple'a folks spittin't my feet azzi walk down th'street.

Only reason'm in town's cuz'm outta goddamn coffee an' oil, an' ain't noplace fer me t'get neither'n th'goddamn woods. Figure'm less likely t'get hassled inna crowd, an' promised t'pick uppa few thin's fer somma th'other folks too, so off I went.

More bloody crowded'n us'al. I getta few nasty looks 'n th'aforementioned spit, but't least nobody takes after me. Get th'shit, get th'hell out. S'all I want.

[leah-pontarlier.livejournal.com]

I'm drifting along sipping the punch when I catch sight of Syl in the crowd. I haven't seen her since that time when a group of us met in the road. When some god or other messed up everyone's heads and I'm curious if she and Silence where the ones who fixed things and if they know which god did it.

She moving very fast and erratically through the crowd and I end up to rush to try and catch up to her only to have to stop just as suddenly when a knot of people get in our way. I end up bumping into her back with just enough time to move my arm sideways so the drink does not spill on us.

"Uh Sorry, Syl!"

[john-thiess.livejournal.com]

I was expectin' a lot more 'v a backlash after the riot the other day. I know I hurt a couple 'a folks that day 'n Tess did worse 'n that, but everyone seems like they want t'forget it happened. There ain't much evidence 'v it either, 'cept fer some boards up on the Sheriff's and the work crews puttin' the street t'rights after the floodin'.

Mr. White gave me 'n Robert the day off - we've bin workin' extra hours gettin' sweets ready fer today, but since most folks have bought theirs by yesterday he said he was fine mindin' the stall.

I've got a small little cake fer Damien, and we're plannin' on spendin' the night together. Not that that's such a strange thing now, but it still seems like a special occasion. Thinkin' 'v it makes me blush a bit, here in the market all surrounded by folks, 'cause things ain't quite normal fer us in - in bed, but I ain't let myself get too worried 'bout it.

The Linnet's have got a stall up, and I stop by t'try their punch. Clara's mother gives me a wary sort 'a look, but she dunt say nothin'. I look at their linens - I might get one fer Tess 'r Kate. They looks nice and warm, and Tess at least like's the style they're done in.

The punch is cool, but it warms up fast goin' down. It dunt smell 'a booze, but I definitely feel a bit strange after downin' it. Huh.

[danashee.livejournal.com]

The weather is getting better. The roads are clearing and the days are warming up. I shall collect the last few things and be on my way soon. today there is an extra market and so I come down and wander through it. There is less on offer than the day before and more of the things are prettier.

I pause at a stall with quilts in nice colours and pretty designs, a woman offers me a drink and I accept, drinking it down and feeling the better for its warmth. I turn to the stall nearby and look over the jewelry but nothing catches my eye I move farther on to one selling flowers some of which are most unusual shades. but I do not linger for long. Then I catch a scent and see a stall of baked goods.


I am pulling out a few of the glamoured beads to pay for a pastry when one slips through my fingers to fall nearly at the feet of a dark clad woman. I bend down after it.

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

After the mess of last week, I wasn't too keen on going anywhere near the town for a while. But there are just some things you can't get at the carnivale. Like soap. My bar's finally gotten too small to even hold. So I make my way cautiously, hoping to find something at the weekend market. If not, well, I hear there's a decent enough apothecary, perhaps I can get the ingredients to make my own.

I do know what day it is. Doesn't matter too much to me.

I don't draw too much attention, thankfully. Seeing as I spent most of the riot inside the sheriff's office, I guess most don't associate me with the carnivale. Fate's being kind to me. I see Syl in one direction & Nu in another, both more visual members of the lot than I. They get some hard looks but seem alright.

I luck out & find some decent handmade soap to replace my own. Along the way some teenage girl pushes a cup of something into my hands. She's not paying too much attention, searching the crowd for someone. The quilts are nice, though, so I give them a quick look while I drink. There's a subtle warmth to the punch that I didn't notice before. I wonder if the kid spiked it.

Wander over towards the scent something warm & sweet & my stomach growls. I'm contemplating a basket of muffins when something glitters near my feet, drawing my attention. I bend to pick it up & knock heads with a young woman doing the same.

"Ah! Sorry," I say, rubbing my head & looking up to see who I hit. Gotta shield my eyes a bit, as the sun's behind her, & for a brief moment it seems to make her bright red hair glow like fire. She's stood already, looking down at me, so I pick up the coin. Summer wind, warm, golden & bright, & I shiver at the touch of it. There's a resonance on this coin, & I stand, holding it out to her.

"This yours?"

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

The market is busy, plenty of people buying and selling. More just looking. I'm not sure yet which I am. Johnny and I have plans for tonight and I'm sort of looking for something to get him. No idea what though. Not so many practical things here. And I don't think he'd like flowers or some of the other pretty ornaments on sale. And he works at the bakery so I can hardly get him something from that stall.

A cup is offered to me for free from one of them and I take it to be polite. Smalls nice enough and so I try it. Takes okay too, like fruit punch.Has something in it as well I think. I hand the cup back and wander further on. There must be something I can buy for him. I spot a familiar face among the crowd and I wave.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

I drink my punch at last - not really to my taste; the only fruit drink I really enjoy is wine, but the idea of free punch is quite charming - and keep looking at the stalls. Then I notice Damien waving at me.

"Ah, good morning, Damien," I say, offering him my hand to shake. "How are you today?"

[leah-pontarlier.livejournal.com]

I wander the special Valentine's Day market watching people. Such odd things customs are. Why should there be only one day a year for people to buy things for each other and tell them they love them? And all because of things that happened so long ago that they have been nearly forgotten. It seems to be a mix of the festival in the summer and Saturday market. Not as many people as the festival and more people selling things.

At one place they are even giving some things away for free! I get a glass of a bright red drink and the woman waves off the money I hold out to her. I smile and thank her before moving on.

[benedict-donner.livejournal.com]

It's getting cold in here, but I can still feel the heat of the cut in my side.

"Deputy? Can I get a bit of sunlight? I promise not to bite."

Maybe this time. I feel like I'm rotting down here.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

(con't from above)

Jarmyn bears out the beating well, but I have made sure to space the blows and not strike any one place more than a few times. His skin turns scarlet, and I nod in appreciation.

He thanks me, and seems anxious for what is next...

but the enthusiasm I felt seems to be waning a bit. His is not, at least I do not think for he is still hard and trembling, but with the exception on Dorian I have never dominated another man before, and I am not enjoying it as much as I would with Miao or Wanda.

Damn... the things I get myself into.

I keep my face placid as I circle him and decide what to do next. I am enjoying his company, and I would not mind getting to know him better, but...

but it would not be fair to have gotten him worked up and leave him hanging.

Well, they taught us about "hysteria" and the quack methods they used to treat it, this would really be no different, would it? I smile at him, then slam myself up against his back and ass, pulling his hips against me and pushing his head and shoulders flat against the table. Keeping one hand at his neck, I move the other from his hip to his cock, jutting out hard and begging for attention. I give the base of it a squeeze before I start to stroke him.

It may not be what he wanted... but it's what I am minded to give.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

He doesn’t do anything right away, just lets me lie there trying to catch my breath. The cool air feels good over my burning ass and thighs, and I try to concentrate on taking the pain in, absorbing it. I half expect him to give me another set, which I could maybe take and probably need, but I’d be crazy to want. The man has an arm on him, and I’m not even sure if he was letting me feel his full strength.

He’s walking around me now, and I tense in anticipation. I don’t know this man at all, don’t have any idea what’s in his mind to do now, and I’m a little scared. I can’t see his face without lifting my head, which I haven’t been given permission to do. As he circles, though, he gets to a place where I can just see a corner of his face. He looks calm, not even winded, and then he smiles, a small, cruel smile. I can’t tell if he’s still holding the belt. I tense immediately, and then force myself to relax.

I’m down in a very good place now in my head. Anything more he gives me isn’t going to hurt too much more, not with the base he’s laid down. I feel free, but focused. I want to impress him by taking this well, and I’m not worried about anything else in the world. That’s a gift, and I need to figure out how to thank him for it later. Right now, I just have to take whatever he wants to give me.

When it comes, it’s not what I expected, but I don’t have time to think about that as he slams up against me, hard into all the swollen skin he just worked over. Didn’t think it could hurt any worse, did I? Now it just feels like he’s compressed the pain, made it more intense, forcing me to try to come to terms with it all over again. I’m not exactly sure what to call the sounds I can’t help making. Moans, maybe? In my ears they sound sharper, more desperate. Shameful.

He’s covering me with his entire body, forcing me down while he pulls my hips up into him. Through the agony, I also feel protected, as though no one in the world can hurt me except him. When I feel his hand squeeze my cock, I jerk up against him, moving as much as his weight will allow, and cry out again as he starts stroking me hard. Something that feels this good shouldn’t also feel like punishment, but he’s stripping my cock in a rough, impersonal way that almost has me sobbing. It’s like he doesn’t care, but why should he? This isn’t supposed to be nice. I don’t deserve nice.

“Am I—“ I have to stop and swallow a string of words he’d probably take offense to. “Am I allowed to come, sir?” He’s working me steadily, and I’m not going to last much longer. But I don’t have permission yet, and it’ll make a mess on his table in any case. That might get me punished more.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Cares for others' minds on things and yet so sure what they care for's untrue," I say, mild exasperated, and turn from that matter (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/381944.html?thread=1#t9805816). "Iago... he's surer in his own skin, I think," and even with the tangle of the matter at hand, smiling at thought of that, the easy grace of him that's come t'settle deeper into his bones since've known him. "He used-- would've called him closer to desperate, once. He's rather settling in himself," and'm glad of it. Do not think I care t'have anyone mad over me. It's an ugly thing.

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"He's... you know there're t-times you, you want something and choose not t'do it? Think t'him, it's-- he sees it as less true."

Glass is blushing, but I suppose she's thinking about how she liked Dorian and wasn't sure what to do about it.

"I think he's used to doing what he likes," I agree. "I think... there was also a time that wasn't so."

Glass turns the matter to Iago.

"He used-- would've called him closer to desperate, once. He's rather settling in himself,"

"I'm glad," I say, but I'm thinking of what Lannie called him, and how jokes often hide truth. Is Verdandi making Iago mad? "Marriage suits him," I say, and I smile at her.