estdeus_innobis | Love is in the air

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Love is in the air

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]

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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?

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.

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.

Know the holiday, met it after I left Swansight, but never took part. But stepping out's a chance at fresh air, and maybe t'see if there's aught for Iago. Like Dorian, 'm guessing he rather weighs the anniversary of his being born, and know it's coming on.

Quilts're fine, but we've enough bedclothes, and'm not seeing anything as'd take the place of the quilt Kate made us. And the rest's raree-show or flowers or baked sweets and I've no mind for it all, and suspect the llygotwr'd care more for any flowers I brought home than Iago would. Sigh and hands in my pockets and thread through the crowds. Thinking I might wander up far as Simon's, see how he's doing. Dinner, maybe? Decent cut of meat, grit my teeth and see Bluebeard for something special in way of spices? His jacket's in fine state, and his shoes holding out, and hardly lacking for clothes or tools.

What do you get someone for this, in any case? Kate and Tess was hard enough, and there at least I could get them each something t'put their hair up, small way of making note of what it means t'share a home that way...

Find Lucien making small conversation with a man looking rather fond at him, no-one I know. Oh, and something about seeing to another I'm not placing; pleasant distraction, then, and curiousity's an easier path than setting out on a gift. "Morning, Lucien," I say mild, and nod t'the stranger.

Edited 2010-09-18 18:18 (UTC)

Jarmyn doesn't seem too put out that I nearly knocked him on his ass in the middle of the market, even greets me with a smile.

"Call me Lucien, please, I'm off duty." I grin, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Meant to ask if you’d gone by the abbey to see Tarquin, and if he’s doing all right.” I nod my head, suddenly noticing what a lovely shade of green his eyes are. Cooler than Wanda's, like a forest near a lake at sunset...

What? I shake it off and take my hand back. "Ummm, fine. He's sine. Acting like nothing is wrong and plotting his escape, I think." I say with a smile, unable to look away from him. "But you... how are you doing, Jarmyn?" Nice name, too.

"Morning, Lucien,"

Lucien... Lucien? OH! Turn to face Glass, realizing I am being spoken too. What on earth is wrong with me???

"Glass, hi there." I say easily with a smile. "Out looking for crap as well?" I gesture towards the market. "Oh, and this is Jarmyn, he tends bar now at the Whitechapel." Give him a warmer smile. "Jarymn, this is Glass, she see's to the dead in town and is good and helping me figure out puzzles and intellectual matters of importance." I beam, introducing them to one another.

Edited 2010-09-18 19:46 (UTC)

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.

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.

He shakes my hand, smiling at me like I’m the best thing he’s seen all day. Must have had a hell of a morning, then. Tells me to call him Lucien, which I’d dearly love to do, except that he’s an educated man who works for a living, which I have spades of respect for. Should at least call him ‘doc,’ since I know he doesn’t like ‘sir.’

He’s staring at me, still holding my hand, and I’m not complaining, but it seems a little strange that he would want to do it, especially in the middle of the market like we are. He seems to realize this too, and takes his hand back before he tells me about Tarquin. I miss the warmth of it after he does, even though the day’s not that cold. His voice is still warm, though, as he asks me how I’m doing like he really wants to know and isn’t just being polite. I’m opening my mouth to tell him I’ve been better and why when someone says hello to him beside us.

Lucien makes introductions, and I listen because it’s him talking in that wonderful smooth voice. Do spare a glance for her and offer her my hand, but it feels small and cold compared to the one I was just holding. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Hope she’ll go away soon, though, so I can concentrate on finding out what Lucien might think is a good idea to do today.

Raise an eyebrow at Lucien absent as he is, but leave it there. "Glass, hi there. Out looking for crap as well?"

"Iago's birth date's coming 'round," I say, shrugging. "Not finding anything particular, though. You, 'sides the quilt?" Although frankly had I Lucien's home and was looking to stock it, I'd start with the kitchen. Grin faint at a memory and turn attention to introductions. Nod courtesy t'Jarmyn and take his hand when he offers.

"Jarymn, this is Glass, she see's to the dead in town and is good and helping me figure out puzzles and intellectual matters of importance."

"And give you practice, come Wednesdays," I add dry. "Though not of late, at least." Consider Jarmyn thoughtful as he makes courtesy.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"You's well," I say, and call it true so far. "Why Excolo, of all places?"

Glass mentions Iago's birthday, and I nod, but my eyes keep sliding back to Jarmyn of their own accord. "Good to know, I'll stand him to a night of cards at the Whitechapel in honour." And Hey! It give me a chance to see Jarmyn.

"Not finding anything particular, though. You, 'sides the quilt?" I look down at the pink and white thing in my hand and I chuckle, realizing I must look foolish with it. "I ... ah... was looking for something for ... Miao..." Rub the back of my neck and feel guilty for even saying her name as my eyes lside back to the man at my side. "This is not for her." I manage to say, trying to fold it smaller yet.

I am laughing at the Wednesday comment. "If I never have to see you on a Wednesday again, it would be a blessing. She... tends to make Wednesdays interesting." I say to Jarmyn wanting to include him as much as I want to hear him talk about himself.

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.

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?"

"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.

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.

It's nice to see the Sunday market. Valentine's Day was a fun sort of festival when I was growing up. Boys would tie ribbons to the front door handles of the houses where the girls they liked lived, and girls would give gingerbread shapes back to them if they liked them too. Remembering that, i baked gingerbread this week for Tess, and put the pieces in a pretty jar and gave them to her this morning. I think she liked them.

After church I've taken a stroll through town, looking at the market, and I smile when I see Glass. She's talking to the doctor, and that nice barman who loaned me his coat.

"Good morning," I say, coming up. "This is quite nice, isn't it?" I say, gesturing at the stalls.

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.

We’re gathering a little knot of people: me and the doctor and the two women. They seem nice enough, but I wish it were just him and me so we could walk around together and look at things, maybe go get something to eat and talk. But he keeps looking at me with those warm blue eyes, and he is making an effort to keep me in the conversation, which I really appreciate.

The woman whose name I think is Glass asks me why I’ve come here after she shakes my hand. Don’t how to answer that except to shrug and say, “It was next on the road.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, though, I can hear them out loud like everyone else must have, sounding plain and stupid. If I were a gentleman, I could have said the same thing but in a way that sounded clever and mysterious. Suddenly its very important to me not to make a fool out of myself in front of the doctor.

The words are already out, though, but the doctor’s talking now about the quilt he’s got and what he was looking for. He looks as embarrassed as I feel, and I’m not sure why. I don’t think Miao, if I caught the name right, could be his wife. Think she’s the lady in charge of the brothel, not just the madam but a proper lady and not anyone’s wife, from what I’ve heard.

He changes the subject quickly, though, laughing with Glass about Wednesdays and telling me she makes them interesting. He has a nice laugh, and his face changes completely when he smiles. I can’t stare at him too much, but I do want to say something back. Can’t think of anything exciting that’s happened to me the past few Wednesdays, but I can think to say, “We had an interesting Thursday last week. Hope that never happens again.” And I catch his eye, feeling good to be saying ‘we.’ I’ll let him explain what happened if he wants, to Glass and the other woman who’s started talking to her. Think I remember her from the bakery, but I could be mistaken.

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.

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?"

I smile when I see Tess approaching.

"Good morning," I say. "And please, call me Valmont," I say. "We're well. How's Kate?" I ask. "I was just looking at these earrings. Wondering if they would suit Hermia." I turn over a little pair of silver earrings. "I'm not sure that she's really celebrated Valentine's Day before, but it seems a good idea to buy my fiancee a present on this sort of occasion."

"Good morning," he says with a smile. "And please, call me Valmont. We're well. How's Kate?" I nod t'his welcome 'n reply "She's good, thanks. She was a bit shook up over everythin', but Excolo ain't the sort 'a town where you can stay rattled fer too long."

Honestly, I think it bothered me more. Things got better after I put my knife away in the cabinet Kate got fer me. I dunt think I'll be usin' that again, unless I've got a dire need t'hurt someone.

"I was just looking at these earrings. Wondering if they would suit Hermia." He points out a pair 'a small earrings, that flash bright in the sun. "I'm not sure that she's really celebrated Valentine's Day before, but it seems a good idea to buy my fiancee a present on this sort of occasion."

I take a look at 'em. "They ain't what I'd wear," I say, touchin' my un-pierced ears, "but I could see Hermia wearin' 'em. That sort 'a small nice kind 'a thing suits her." I doubt he needs my advice though. "My family ain't bin much fer it, livin' so far out as we do, but I know there's all sorts 'a traditions folks follow." Some from Excolo proper, but lots from away too.

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.

Edited 2010-09-19 18:12 (UTC)

Nod t'Jarmyn's mention of Excolo being next on the road, and quick dry smile at mention of the Whitechapel. "Think he'd like the cards," I say, "but the Whitechapel--" Toss Jarmyn an apologetic look, not that I could be sure he notices. "Last time he was by one claiming t'be family-by-law was a bloody ass, and he's not by there so often of late."

"I ... ah... was looking for something for ... Miao..." and swear he's near to skittering around her name as he looks to--

Manage to avoid raising an eyebrow. Well, then. Long as you mind yourself, Lucien--you may be doctor t'town but he's not made himself of particular weight, and don't need him giving either of us work. "This is not for her," he adds, fussing with the quilt.

Shrug at that. "Never practiced the day, hardly after giving you grief for getting yourself something."

"Good morning," and glance over t'see Kate coming and glad of that, nod agreement as she gestures to the stalls. "This is quite nice, isn't it?" Step back a little and touch her shoulder, draw her to the conversation.

"Truly," I say. "Mean, little enough for way-- was thinking may be could find something for--" Shake my head t'clear it. "Nice t'see," I settle on in agreement, wondering why I'm carrying on so. Brighter and more crowded and touch earlier than I'd usually care for, but... well, can see the appeal.

"We had an interesting Thursday last week," Jarmyn offers. "Hope that never happens again."

"What happened?" I say, sudden curious. Turn a little t'face him, and find myself standing a touch closer t'Kate as I do so. No matter to't, surely.

Edited 2010-09-19 02:53 (UTC)

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.

I stop looking sideways at Lucien and watch Glass while she’s talking, for two reasons. One, she’s been watching us (makes me feel warm, just the word us, when it means me and the doctor) with sharp eyes, like she knows something’s going on but doesn’t quite like it, and two, the way she puts her words together makes her sound like someone down-country from where I grew up, even though her accent’s different. Anyway, she makes me feel less backward, looking like she belongs here in town but not like a lady who does nothing but embroider all day and keep little dogs.

It’s also worth listening to her because she’s talking about my bar, and something that must have happened before my time. Don’t know who Iago is to her that she would be buying him a birthday present, but I have heard that’s the name of the fellow who tends bar at the Tavern. Name like that can’t be too common in a town like this. She sounds a bit awkward talking about him, though. Probably not her brother.

When I mention Thursday, she starts looking just at me and asks me what happened. I kind of hope Lucien will start telling the story and making me out to be some kind of a hero, but he doesn’t, and she is looking at me, so I say, “There was a fight across the street from the bar that night, two guys from town beating on another one they thought was from the Carnival. Hurt him pretty bad before I got there, and all of us ended up going down to the jail with Deputy Hollow for awhile.” I stop there, to give Lucien a chance to add his bit now if he wants.

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Love is in the air

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