Eh?! He'd invited her—no, moreover, he'd planned to from the start? Score! And of all the people he cared for, she was the smartest?!
Yes, yes and yes! It's a date! Ashley wanted to scream, but now that she was on guard, she restrained herself.
"Hoho... You're too kind," Ashley answers, turning the smile she couldn't hold back into a weirdly improvised smirk. "but I'm not lying, you know? Of course, I can't be completely honest, or I'll lose my edge... and I can't drop the 'milord' just yet, either," she says with a dour tone, looking around. "This isn't exactly a private setting—but if we do end up alone somewhere, I'll call you whatever you want. Heh."
"Caught in my subordinate's web, my friend?" Clive interrupts with a false smile as he approaches the pair of sulky nobles.
Behave yourself, won't you, my dear? his eyes seemed to suggest as he loomed over their table, looking at Ashley.
Oh, screw you, she returned with a narrow-eyed glare.
"If it isn't Lord Clive—the fly in my ointment. Too bad I can't catch you in my web," she says sarcastically.
"That's very true, and also, not the slightest bit unfortunate," Clive replies, rubbing it in a bit.
Mikhail wasn't privy to all of the details, but the two seemed to have a longer history together than they would let on. They bickered like siblings—for all the importance she seemed to place upon her conduct as a knight, she didn't seem too concerned about holding back against him. Ashley's face softens, though, when she remembers something important.
"We have a situation. There are some... very dangerous criminals planning to stow away aboard the Santa Lyrica," she says in a low voice.
Clive looks skeptical, and a bit confused. "Huh? Where does this news come from?"
"Sources," Ashley replies flippantly. "Wind's foul—thirty knots from the southeast—so please, take your time looking for them."
No one would have paid Ashley's comment about the weather any mind, especially not on a day like this with such grave news overtaking everyone's mind. Unless, of course, they were eager to sail to their death as quickly as possible. However... that wind report was wrong.
Strangely, Clive's face seemed to indicate that Ashley's odd remark explained everything. "Right. I'll inform the knights," he says as he turns, leaving quickly.
Ashley smiles wickedly. My sincerest apologies, Lady Madeline. Your ship is about to be delayed. She turns to Mikhail.
"As you say, I'm the smartest woman in your life," she boasts, her words full of biased intent. "so I already have a plan in motion. Shall we?"
Between the nods of beckoning sleep, Margot might have caught a glimpse of two fetching young gentlemen as they walked up to the bar together, the dark-haired one looking rather pleased with himself compared to his sulky blonde friend—and, in the warlock's over-tailored uniform, complete with a family crest and three bright red stripes on the armband signifying his rank, probably over-dressed, too.
Retrieving a fully loaded coin pouch, he counts out the fee for his and his companion's drinks—plus a little extra—and slides the coins across the bar to the barkeep. This was unusual behavior for a noble. Many of them did not fully appreciate the value of money, and would simply lay down a pile of coins, in a showy fashion. If you made a particular face of mixed confusion and displeasure, you might even be able to trick them into increasing the size of the pile. Indeed, the barkeep was making just such a face. "Something amiss with your order, sir?" he grunts, glancing down at the giddy young lad.
"Not at all. Please, send my regards to the staff—they have the best coffee and cakes in the capital," came the smooth, silky voice.
With a line like that, the barkeep would have to take his loss like a champ. "It's our pleasure, sir. Good day to you."
"Good day."
Ashley honestly felt bad for her manners. They were good cakes. Didn't do the staff any favors, eating them like that.
Yes, yes and yes! It's a date! Ashley wanted to scream, but now that she was on guard, she restrained herself.
"Hoho... You're too kind," Ashley answers, turning the smile she couldn't hold back into a weirdly improvised smirk. "but I'm not lying, you know? Of course, I can't be completely honest, or I'll lose my edge... and I can't drop the 'milord' just yet, either," she says with a dour tone, looking around. "This isn't exactly a private setting—but if we do end up alone somewhere, I'll call you whatever you want. Heh."
"Caught in my subordinate's web, my friend?" Clive interrupts with a false smile as he approaches the pair of sulky nobles.
Behave yourself, won't you, my dear? his eyes seemed to suggest as he loomed over their table, looking at Ashley.
Oh, screw you, she returned with a narrow-eyed glare.
"If it isn't Lord Clive—the fly in my ointment. Too bad I can't catch you in my web," she says sarcastically.
"That's very true, and also, not the slightest bit unfortunate," Clive replies, rubbing it in a bit.
Mikhail wasn't privy to all of the details, but the two seemed to have a longer history together than they would let on. They bickered like siblings—for all the importance she seemed to place upon her conduct as a knight, she didn't seem too concerned about holding back against him. Ashley's face softens, though, when she remembers something important.
"We have a situation. There are some... very dangerous criminals planning to stow away aboard the Santa Lyrica," she says in a low voice.
Clive looks skeptical, and a bit confused. "Huh? Where does this news come from?"
"Sources," Ashley replies flippantly. "Wind's foul—thirty knots from the southeast—so please, take your time looking for them."
No one would have paid Ashley's comment about the weather any mind, especially not on a day like this with such grave news overtaking everyone's mind. Unless, of course, they were eager to sail to their death as quickly as possible. However... that wind report was wrong.
Strangely, Clive's face seemed to indicate that Ashley's odd remark explained everything. "Right. I'll inform the knights," he says as he turns, leaving quickly.
Ashley smiles wickedly. My sincerest apologies, Lady Madeline. Your ship is about to be delayed. She turns to Mikhail.
"As you say, I'm the smartest woman in your life," she boasts, her words full of biased intent. "so I already have a plan in motion. Shall we?"
Between the nods of beckoning sleep, Margot might have caught a glimpse of two fetching young gentlemen as they walked up to the bar together, the dark-haired one looking rather pleased with himself compared to his sulky blonde friend—and, in the warlock's over-tailored uniform, complete with a family crest and three bright red stripes on the armband signifying his rank, probably over-dressed, too.
Retrieving a fully loaded coin pouch, he counts out the fee for his and his companion's drinks—plus a little extra—and slides the coins across the bar to the barkeep. This was unusual behavior for a noble. Many of them did not fully appreciate the value of money, and would simply lay down a pile of coins, in a showy fashion. If you made a particular face of mixed confusion and displeasure, you might even be able to trick them into increasing the size of the pile. Indeed, the barkeep was making just such a face. "Something amiss with your order, sir?" he grunts, glancing down at the giddy young lad.
"Not at all. Please, send my regards to the staff—they have the best coffee and cakes in the capital," came the smooth, silky voice.
With a line like that, the barkeep would have to take his loss like a champ. "It's our pleasure, sir. Good day to you."
"Good day."
Ashley honestly felt bad for her manners. They were good cakes. Didn't do the staff any favors, eating them like that.