A Simple Social Call

[Valentina Audley]

"A minor boon." The answer is given steadily. She wanted more, but this would at least recoup part of the cost of getting George dealt with.

[Viktor]

"It has long been accepted within the Ivory Tower Miss Audley that forgiveness for a social faux pas is but a Trivial matter.

From what has been described by all parties involved I see nothing within Mr. Williamson's actions, foolish and rude as they were, that makes me believe it is anything beyond this."

There is pause and another vague wave of a hand as if to ward off any immediate comment.

"Had Mr.Williamson not acquiesced to your demand to vacate as he did or provided some other or further form of indiscretion on top of his rudeness toward yourself I would be in agreement with the proposed value of restitution. But he did not.

Be aware that both I and they who have been appointed to aid the Office of the Harpy of Aquae Sulis view Mr. Williamson's actions as those to be Scorned."

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina bows her head in assent. There are many reasons why this feels like a good move, fear, respect, a desire not to give herself away until she's mastered her facial expression...

"If that is your view Master Harpy then I shall be most content with a trivial boon."

[Viktor]

"No Miss Audley. You will not." comes the reply.

There's no amusement in the words said, nor malice. It is a simple, calm and perhaps surprisingly, understanding statement of fact.

"Thank you for your time. I shall leave you to your eve unless there is aught further you wish to discuss?"

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina curtseys.

"I do not believe so Master Harpy."

[Viktor]

Viktor gives Valentina a slight nod.

"I understand that Miss Ash was most pleased with what was produced upon my behalf. Thank you for your work.

Good eve."

Viktor turns and leaves, re-buttoning the coat and putting the gloves and hat back in place. The shop door rings again as the door is opened and the sound of it being firmly shut follows.

[Valentina Audley]

The door is locked before he's made it halfway down the street.

Inside Valentina leans heavily against it, deciding to allow her phantom nervous system the upper hand she sinks into a small shaky huddle. For an age she neither moves nor breathes. Oh damn. The girl!

Without bothering to move she raises her voice.

"Mr Swainswick! Do you escort Miss Wilkins home now. The night grows late and she cannot be too careful in these troubled times. When you have done so I suggest you take the rest of the evening off. No need to deliver parcels, but kindly do not disturb me either. I shall see you upon the morrow."

Duty done, she curls up into a huddle of skirts again.

[Jacob Swainswick]

Swainswick looks at the girl, a note of concern written across his face.

"Get your coat on, Anna. I'll fetch the umbrella."

He pauses half-way to the shop's tiny kitchen, casting a glance down the hall; devotion to duty warring with a more personal inclination.

"That way," he nods with his head, wrapping a scarf around his neck.

"What'll you do with your evening?" the young woman asks, threading her hand through the crook of his arm as the two figures step out into the rapidly falling snow: two dark forms silhouetted against the light of the shop doorway. "Town doesn't seem so festive this year, what with all the bobbys around."

He pockets the key. "I think there's a service on at the Abbey," he answers, casting a worried glance up at the sky. "Perhaps there's some cheer there."