The Mayor's Mansion

She fell on her eggs ravenously, although not like some heathen. She used her fork like a lady--like a Fletcher should-- as she shoveled eggs in between her generous and lush lips.

"So they ARE cut apart? The bodies? The wounds are consistent with a blade of some type? They don't seem TORN apart, as if by some animal? Are any body parts missing?"

She's discussing murder while she eats breakfast like she's discussing the weather, completely at ease with the conversation.

... And then Robert asks about marriage.

Rosamond chokes on her eggs and ham, coughing so hard that her eyes tear up and her face turns red and she mimes for a glass of water. When it's given to her, she drinks it down and then looked at Robert with an incredulous look on her face.

"Married?! Are you CRAZY?! What would I do as a wife?! Noooo sir. No sir, I'll stick to my life as I like it, thank you very much."

She slid off the stool and hefted her bag strap over her slender shoulder. "You said Emma Baker was one of the victims? Did she have any family?" It was very obvious that Rosamond planning on investigating.

It was unlikely that the One-Eyed Shark would even be open at this hour.

"Hm. What about Mr. Butcher?" His name would have her assuming he was a butcher, but given that the Bakers were bartenders, the Butchers might actually be the bakers of Ozmodias.

It was obvious that Rosamond wanted to get out and do things. She didn't discuss marriage any more because it felt like if she talked about it too much, one day she'd find herself married and shackled to some boring guy that would expect her to give birth and then raise the brood.

"So he was murdered in his shop?" she asked and headed towards the great hall of the mansion, where that front door with all of its locks waited for her.

She paused in the doorway of the kitchen, and if Robert got a greenish hue from the talk of blood and disembodiment, Rosamond got a greenish hue from the talk of marriage.

"If I can have anyone I want, then I don't have to get married. YOU'RE not married," she pointed out of Robert Fletcher, a man who had a handsome face and body, a position of power, and obscene wealth on top of it all. Being the eye candy of a man did not sound like something Rosamond wanted to do.

"Point me in the direction of the butcher's shop, please!"

She'd investigate the murder. At least blood and guts was something she could stomach. Matrimony? Yuck!

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, rocking her weight to one hip where the split in her white skirt fluttered. Items in her back shifted and jangled a little with the completely feminine movement, as if protesting Robert's distraction as well.

"Well, stop bringing home redhead barmaids, OR, find a woman that ALSO wants redhead barmaids. See how easily I solved that problem for you?" She shook her head, silver white hair swaying as she did so. Although she was flattered that her cousin thought she was hot (er...?), she was getting a little uncomfortable with all of this asking around.

"What! That's-- That's none of your business, Robert!" she flared, a hot blush roaming all over her cheeks as she suddenly found it hard to look at his grinning face. If she was a virgin, indeed!

"Why are you even asking all of these questions? Did Gran put you up to this?" She nervously curved a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Of course I know Aunt Remy," Rosamond said with another roll of her pretty eyes. "But I'm not her child, YOU are, and if she has any say in any marriages, it's YOURS." She poked Robert in the chest.

Her eyes brows lifted with his next few sentences, and she shook her head. "Just marry anyone. Marry someone that doesn't care about your sex life! Marry someone that wants your money and nothing else. YOU marry someone."

So that Rosamond didn't have to. She would, of course, if her very influential family kept pressuring and pressuring and pressuring her. She would hate it, it would probably be the end of happiness in her life and she really hoped that her family wouldn't force that on her just because they wanted to expand their influence, but if they did... she would.

"It's called a prenup, Rob-ert," she responded in a petulant tone that most cousins would afford to others. Usually she wasn't this sassy, but all of this marriage talk had her itching underneath her skin. She knew most of the Fletchers well enough, and she always had a smile and a story for every single one of them, but she wasn't raised with them. Most of the relationships she had with the Fletchers was an adult one, since as a child she had been wandering around and around and around with her parents.

She shuddered as he mentioned only the truth about Gran. "Well, hopefully I won't have to get married until I'm sixty," she said.

When he asked about her parents, she blinked. "You don't know Rickard and Loretta Fletcher?" she asked with a tip of her head. "Rickard Fletcher was a naturalist. He explored all over the place and discovered six or seven new species. Mother was his right hand, and left hand, and both his feet."

She chuckled to remember.

"My father would sort of get tunnel vision when he was involved in a project, so Mother usually took care of the details like, oh, making sure we had food and that we got paid and had a roof over our heads."

She sighed in fond rememberance, and then caught herself and turned her pretty gaze onto Robert. "You never met them?"

"Well, I suppose we'll both be cursed by the family to get married," she said, cheerfully changing the subject as she dropped her hands from where she'd placed them on her hips and stepped forward, gripping his shoulders.

"Now, can you please move out of the way so I can go find a murderer?" She tried to nudge him out of place.

"Oh, please, not this!" She said as she turned and bumped her hip against his, pushing against him, sort of tucked up under one arm with her back also to the door in an effort to get him away. She was trying to move one of her legs, clad in her thigh-high leather boot around and in between his from behind.

"This chivalry stuff is real cute and all, Robby," she said through gritted teeth as she puuuushed against him to get him out of the doorway. "But I'm an strong, independent woman who don't need no man. You already roofied me last night, it's the top of the morning now, it's shining outside and I need to get out of this golden cage you've built for yourself!"

She shoved at his side as hard as she could!

She smiled, bright, happy, and cheery-eyed when Robert gave in to her (which, of course, she knew he would). She stepped out of the way so he could undo all the bolts and locks on the door and immediately stepped through the doorway and into the sunshine and bird song.

Rosamond took a deeep breath of the air, and then scrunched up her nose. "I... take it that it's low tide at the moment," she said, shielding her eyes from the sunshine to look out over Robert's charming vista grounds to the sparkling sea beyond, white sails of the ships in the harbor like low-hanging clouds.

She turned back to Robert.

"I can't resist an adventure and thrill!" she said, opening her arms wide and spinning, the items in her back shifting and clattering until she stood still again. "Maybe I'll add Private Investigator to my title, you know, when cartography business is running slow."

She tapped her temple. "I have excellent deductive reasoning. I don't know WHY I didn't think about this before. I bet I could solve all kinds of mysteries." She paused for a moment. "Except for the Misty Woods. I don't know what goes in in that place, but every time I'm in a rural area and it starts getting misty for no reason, I beat it."

She looked at Robert as they strolled down to the mansion gates. "Have you ever been to the Misty Woods?"