#9 Beignet Boulevard (Robert Fletcher's Apartment)

In truth, Robert wasn't sure what hours his cousin kept. He wasn't her minder, after all. Really, he tried to avoid her as much as he could. Still, hadn't she been awake that one time he and Dixie had stumbled through her door in the middle of the night, barely able to walk straight? Didn't she occasionally mention going out at night to go fox hunting? That certainly seemed like evidence enough of her keeping odd hours, and so he nodded at Vasco's question.

"My dear cousin keeps all manner of hours," he said. "I'll be sure to introduce the two of you. You two would get along, I think."

This last bit wasn't exactly true, but Robert had been wrong before. Besides, wasn't Gran always talking about how Roxanne ought to get married already? It wasn't proper for her to be running around on her own like that, and besides, he'd heard rumors about her last boyfriend being considerably older than her. At least Vasco was her age, if nothing else. Rich, too.

Vasco's inquiries about the second painting were a little more uncomfortable, not in the least because Moira was sitting right next to him, waiting impatiently for his response.

"A close friend indeed," he said, after an awkward pause. "It's always good to know someone in the guard, you know. Even if you work in the government. Especially if you work in the government. Say, is that the kettle going? I'll be right back with your tea, Moira. Excuse me a moment."

He stepped hurriedly from the room and fled to the kitchen, leaving Moira and Vasco alone. Moira sighed, having seemed less than impressed with his explanation. She didn't mind putting up with Robert for the sake of her mission, but it still stung to be reminded that she wasn't the first choice.

"So, Señor Correa," she said, with an almost flawless pronunciation, "Rondon, huh? What's it like there? A lot warmer than around here, I'd suppose."

Moira eyed Vasco closely, clearly not nearly as amused by the whole situation as he was. As he explained the differences between Rondi and Isran architecture, she sighed, leaning back into the couch. No wonder he and Robert got along so well, she thought. Not only did they have similar habits when it came to drinking and women, but they both also seemed to love talking about things they didn't understand as though they were experts. As it so happened, Rondi architecture was something she knew quite a bit about, thanks to her training from working under the mysterious Dr. Ettinger. They'd been preparing to run some sort of operation overseas during the Rondi civil war, but the plan had been abandoned when the war came to an unexpectedly swift close.

"Ah yes," she said, nodding politely. "The little squares and diamonds. The estrella, you mean. Lovely things. We don't have that level of detail because our major architecture is mainly based on elven influence, rather than being entirely based around Lord Marón of Arcoux's style of design, which itself is centered around the philosophy that if a even hand's breadth of space is left without art, the world is worse off for it. But you already knew that, didn't you, Señor Correa?"

As she finished, Robert stepped back into the sitting room with a mug of tea, which he handed off to Moira before returning to his seat. To his relief, it seemed that the topic had changed, although he'd missed most of what Moira had said.

"Careful," he said, as Moira took a sip of the tea. "It's hot. What were you two talking about, anyway?"

"Nothing," she replied.

Robert paused, wondering for a brief moment if they'd been talking about him. No, that couldn't be it. Surely Vasco wouldn't change the subject right back to him if they were. He glanced over at Moira, who simply gave him a little nod, assuring him that they had, in fact, been talking about nothing of particular interest. Good ol' Moira, always dependable.

"This job?" he repeated, giving a noncommittal shrug. "It wasn't really anything much, really. With my experience and the influence of my family, it was a piece of cake to get the position. Gaining influence and respect within the citadel, now that was something I had to work at. It wasn't all that difficult, though. I'm a pretty charismatic person, and I daresay the Empress favors me."

At this, there was a sudden snort as Moira choked on her tea. Robert turned, alarmed, but she held up a hand as she coughed and wiped her face with a handkerchief. One of his handkerchiefs, Robert noticed. When had she taken that?

"I'm sorry," she said, clearing her throat and taking a couple of deep breaths. "Terribly sorry, Robert. Carry on."

Robert hesitated, having lost his train of thought for the moment. That was strange, Moira rarely choked on things...but she seemed to have been a bit out of sorts all day.

"Uh...the Empress is quite fond of me and the work I do. How about yourself, Vasco? Any vocation you call your own?"

"Lucky indeed," agreed Robert, letting out a smug chuckle. "You know, many in the Citadel like to say that our Empress Naoki is the rightful leader of every nation in the world, and the others just don't know it yet. I don't know if the Empress holds the same opinion, but I've never seen her express it. More wine?"

He topped off Vasco's glass, eyeing the man's jacket. It certainly looked very fine, although Robert had never heard of making a coat of manticore fur. He nodded appreciatively, taking a sip of his own wine.

"Really," he said. "Manticore? You slayed it yourself? Goodness, you and Roxanne will get along fabulously, then. She always did like the adventurous monster-slaying sort. I'm very impressed, I never would have taken you for an adventurer. And yes, Raelyn is a...second cousin or something. I'm really not quite sure, I have quite a lot of relatives. Have you ever seen a manticore-fur jacket, Moira?"

Moira shook her head, raising an eyebrow at the suggestion that he'd slain the beast himself.

"Never. Goodness, it looks awfully soft. Not at all like the coarse mane of a manticore. They must have done something amazing with it. It sure looks a lot like rabbit fur. Gosh, I'm so impressed."

Her sarcasm went entirely unnoticed by Robert, who nodded along cheerfully.

"Yes, isn't it amazing? Manticore fur...maybe I should get myself a jacket like that."

"I'm afraid I'll have to take your word for it," said Moira, setting the tea aside in favor of her liquor. "I don't think I'll find myself at your villa any time soon."

Robert noticed something in Vasco's gaze towards Moira, something other than the vague interest he'd shown her all night. What was it? Had she said something that he hadn't picked up on? The expression only lasted for a moment before Vasco's smile returned, making him wonder if he'd imagined it. The offer of going manticore hunting distracted him entirely, driving the thought from his mind.

"I would like that very much," he said, unable to help but grin at the prospect. "A manticore hunt! It's been a while since I've had that sort of excitement. Perhaps I'll bring Roxanne, introduce the two of you then. She'd enjoy that sort of thing, and I'm certain that she'd be interested in the sort of man that can bring down a manticore. I don't suppose it's much like fighting a bull. Have you ever done that? I recall hearing about bull-fighting being quite popular in Rondon."

"They don't do that anymore," piped up Moira, holding up her glass to be refilled. "Ever since the war, bulls are too valuable. They use wild boars now, which are just as dangerous and get almost as big over there."

"My cousin certainly is an interesting girl," Robert agreed, topping off Moira's glass. "A bit troublesome, perhaps, but I trust that you can handle a bit of trouble. A beast-hunt would be a lovely diversion. Perhaps in two weeks time? I should have a day off then, and I'll be able to get Roxanne to come along then as well. Will you be joining us, Moira?"

Moira seemed to ignore him for a moment, catching Vasco's eye and meeting his gaze. She found herself drawn towards his stare, captivated. It seemed as though the world outside of those eyes were fading into grey, and that her grasp of her own consciousness were slipping along with it. His words seemed to echo in her head, sliding their way through her thoughts like an eel. She could feel him taking hold, but it seemed...weak, somehow. As though his mesmerizing stare weren't nearly as powerful as it should be. Forcing herself into action before his will overpowered her, she shook her head and drained her glass in a single gulp, letting the sting of the liquor refocus her mind and bring her back to her senses. She coughed, wiping her mouth and ignoring Robert's sudden exclamation. What had he done to her? She wasn't entirely sure, but was almost certain that he would have had her in seconds if she'd had two natural eyes. A dangerous man indeed, this Vasco.

"I know all about Rondi men," she said simply, once more meeting his gaze without fear. The spell was broken now, he'd have no grasp over her unless she let herself become distracted. "Most of the time they're tanned and strong, not pale and skinny. And they usually don't resort to cheap parlor tricks."

She stood, grabbing her coat and waving away Robert's confused protests. Pulling the hood up over her head, she headed for the door, pausing for just a moment to speak over her shoulder before leaving.

"I don't think I'll go with you on this manticore hunt, Robert. One of us has to work, after all."

Robert was struck speechless by Moira's abrupt departure. What had happened? He must have missed something, that was the only explanation...but what? Moira wasn't prone to such erratic behavior, as far as he knew. He turned to Vasco, and it struck him that while the man looked a bit confused, he didn't seem at all surprised. Could he have done something? Maybe...but he couldn't be sure. Perhaps he'd ask Moira about it later.

"I do hope you'll forgive her," he said, glancing once more at the door. "This isn't like her at all. I suppose you're right, though. Women do have a tendency to be...emotional. Erratic, even. Strange, I never would have taken her for the type to storm out...but yes, I suppose three days should be sufficient. Much longer than that away from work and the Empress would have my head. I'll bring Roxanne as well, I'm sure she'll agree. The two of you will get along fabulously, I'm sure of it."

He'd have to send a letter to his Grandmother, he thought. She'd offer her support for sure. After all, hadn't it been her who'd been nagging Roxanne to get married? A union between the Fletchers and this mysterious but wealthy Correa family would be a favorable development for both houses. Yes, this would be the way to go.