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The Longest Night: A Meridian Society Christtmas (TheCorsair & Madame Mim)

Kieran exaggerated a look of offense. "Like a common thief!" He put a hand to his heart. "I'm hurt mate! Really! Right here..."

"Thank you, Colin," Erik said, grinning and shaking his hand. He hadn't stopped grinning since the woods. "Nothing's set in stone yet but ah...well, I imagine my mother will be very interested in having some hand in the planning. You'll have to convince her, not me." He laughed before wrapping an arm back around Sam's waist. He'd hardly let go of her in the past few hours. "And thank you, Professor," he added. "Time off would be greatly appreciated. So long as the world isn't once again threatened with its demise in that time, of course."

"Like I weren't nothin' but a magpie," the pirate continued to complain, feigning hurt feelings and looking at Sam reproachfully. "Honestly!"
 
"Ain't nuthin' honest 'bout you, Kieran," Sam replied, laughing. "Nor common, neither. Then again, ain't like there's anythin normal bout any o' us, is there?" Her attention turned back to Erik. "Wonder how yer ma'll take this, though? Reckon she'll be pleased, or horrified?"

"What of your own father, Sam?" Colin asked, curious.

She shrugged. "Surprised, Ah should think. Like, really surprised. Ah reckon he never figgered on me gettin' hitched at all." She frowned a lityle. "Ah'll have ta work how ta get him to th' weddin', though. Ah doubt he'll wanna miss it."



In the kitchen, Algernon poured two glasses of sherry. One he kept, the other he sat within comfortable reach of Anne Marie. "No cream cheese, I'm afraid. Just butter, and a runny blue cheese that smells as if it is a touch past its prime. Perhaps just a simple cake then, with a buttercream frosting?"

Glancing through the door, he grimaced slightly at the sight of the team. Not out of contempt, as a thrill of combined jealousy and pain as their happiness awoke memories. With a wry, sour face he lifted his glass. "To Samantha and Erik," he offered. "May they find lasting happiness."
 
"Mutter?" Erik repeated, raising his eyebrows mildly. "Oh she's absolutely against it, positively beside herself. Hasn't stopped muttering under her breath since that disastrous Hanukkah." He smiled and shrugged. "But if her son is getting married whether she likes his bride or not she's going to make sure it's done properly. I Ah...I don't look forward to the fallout." He smirked at Sam, knowing that a number of knock-down drag-out fights in their future, if that disastrous dinner was anything to go by.

"Well if he doesn't have any objections to going about with less savory characters," said Kieran, "he's more than welcome to catch a ride. If a dishonest, uncommon rogue would be invited to such a posh event, that is."

~*~

Anne Marie frowned at the shredded carrots on the cutting board at the suggestion of plain cake with buttercream, then shrugged and popped a pinch of carrots into her mouth. Buttercream frosting it would be.

"To Samantha and Erik," she returned, raising her glass then drinking. Flour streaked her hair in several places and dusted across her nose. Her eyes didn't miss the downturn to his lips, the sadness in his eyes. She poured the batter into the pan, put it in the oven, then hesitated before making the frosting.

"I'm sure she would want you to be happy," she ventured at last, wiping her hands on her apron. "And I don't say that for my own benefit but for yours. I believe she would want you to be happy... With anyone you should choose. In any way you should choose." She leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Don't allow their happiness to be your pain, Algie." Dusting her hands off for good measure she turned again to the counter to begin the frosting and, should he need it, give Algernon some privacy with his thoughts.
 
"Well, Ah dunno..." Sam drawled, mischeif in her eye. "Ah reckon Erik's momma wouldn't want no unsavory types at her son's weddin'. Might upset her somethin' fierce, really. So, well..." With a sudden move, she threw her arm around the pirate's shoulders. "Course yer invited! All y'all are!"

She hesitated, watching Erik's face. "Course, y'all may wanna talk ta Erik about how it'll work. Ah, uh, Ah made a bit o' a hash outta Haunnikah." She made a disparaging sound. "Seems mah roast pork didn't go over well, nor mah crayfish stew." She hesitated. "Blood puddin' weren't much o' a hit, neither."


Algernon smiled sadly, touching his cheek as Anne Marie turned back to her baking. "Am... am I so transparent, lo..." He stumbled over the unfamilar wird, uncertain if he should say it. Uncertain if he could. Then he smiled wryly. "Perhaps I am. But I am happy for her, I assure you. Fir bith if them."

Glancing at the door warily, he stepoed up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. For a long moment he leaned against her, enjoying the warmth of her body against his. Then, comscious of the need to maintain appearances, he stepped back from her and turned to watch through the partly open door. "It's just that being with you, and seeing them... it awakens memories. Happy memories, made painful by loss." He sipped his sherry. "Things I try not to think about."
 
Kieran grinned. "Well if your dad doesn't mind going about with unsavory types then I can always give him a lift," he offered. At the mention of Hannukah he raised his eyebrows. Erik only muttered something in Yiddish and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's a learning curve, Schatze," he assured her. "She'll just have to realize that. Although I would appreciate resisting the temptation to call names." He ran a hand through his hair. Now that the scary part was over came the planning, and this was going to be a nightmare in every sense of the word.

~*~

Algernon stopped himself from calling her "love," which as much as Anne Marie knew that shouldn't bother her it did. He had been faithful to a dead woman for twenty years, after all; she needed to have patience. But it would have been a lie to say that it didn't sting a little. Instead she focused on what he did say.

"Only to me, mon amour," she assured him gently. "They are brilliant investigators but are blind to what they do not wish to see, and they do not wish to see us as people. You and I are abstract entities to them, incapable of sadness or of having a past despite knowing that it's there." She wasn't bitter about it. Anne Marie only meant that they weren't seen as people in the way that the prime minister wasn't seen as a person, and that was fine for authority figures like themselves.

Then Algie wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned against her back. Anne Marie's entire body relaxed and she leaned against him, smiling contentedly and letting her eyes close a little. She rested her hands on his before he stepped back again for the sake of appearance. It wouldn't do for one of the others to find them in such a compromising position. "I understand," she assured him truthfully when he spoke of happy memories. "It reopens wounds from long ago. But if you try not to think about these things, then don't." Anne Marie turned to him and, with a quick glance through the door, kissed him gently. "Focus on making new happy memories. Be here and now with me. With us." She smiled gently, hoping she was actually helping.
 
"Mon amour..." he repeated, kissing her back quickly. "I..." Algernon's voice trailed away, as he struggled with his emotions. "I... you are my heart, my dear one," he said slowly. "Never, never believe that last night was, was just a... a moment's convenience. But..." The words came hard to his lips. "There are... circumstances, things about me... I cannot..."

With an aggrieved sound he released her, then caught up his glass and drained the last of his sherry. "Damn it," he growled, his suppressed Australian accent coming through, "I'm making a right hash of this, ain't I? I... Anne Marie, I, that is, I can't just commit to you. Not with my whole heart, not now. I... that is..." Pain flickered across his face again. "When we return to London, come with me. On a trip. There's something... something I need to show you." He took her in his arms again, burying his face in her hair. "I love you," he murmured, "but... I... I can't... talk. About it. I... I have to show you." He fell silent for a moment. "Please, mon amour. Please, say you'll trust me and come with me."


Sam gave Erik a reproachful look. "Ah didn't start in wit' th' name callin'," she reminded him. "Yer ma called me a... a guy, Now, Ah know Ah ain't built all feminine like Anne Marie, but Ah don' rightly relish bein' called a... a guy by the woman who birthed mah man! An' Ah weren't gonna take that from..."

"Sam?" Colin asked, stepping in before Erik could get a word in edgewise. "Did... that is, did she perhaps pronounce it with an 'oy'? Like, 'goy'?"

"Yeah," Sam snapped. "She puts on airs, but she don't speak English no better'n Ah do."

Colin met Erik's eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Erik, but... isn't 'goy' a Yiddish term that refers to non-Jews?"
 
Anne Marie's throat tightened painfully when he declared that he couldn't commit to her with his whole heart. That was all she had ever wanted of him. When he pulled her to him again she rested her cheek on his shoulder and stroked the back of his neck gently, swallowing the hurt in the face of his struggle. They were together now, and that was what mattered...so perhaps he could give her his heart in time. When Algie asked her to return to London, that there was something he couldn't tell her but had to show her, she frowned briefly before kissing his cheek.

"I have always trusted you, my love," she murmured soothingly, smoothing back his hair though it didn't need it. "Why should I not trust you now? Of course I will come with you." She paused before giving him a tiny smile. "So long as you keep in mind that ain't isn't a proper word." She was trying to lighten the mood a little. "Just...until then, be here with me. Make new happy memories with me. If you cannot give me your whole heart, then give me to safeguard what pieces you can."

~*~

Erik sighed at Colin's deduction. "Yes," he confirmed, "but it isn't a very nice word and still shouldn't have been said. And in fairness, she did call her ein Transvestit," he added. But he looked at Sam seriously. "But that doesn't mean you ought to stoop to her level," he said reproachfully. "As much as I won't tolerate someone calling you a goy transvestite I equally won't tolerate my mother being called a hatchet-faced cunt. She is still my mother. We have our difficulties but I do love you both."

"And this is exactly why I'll never get married," Kieran put in, taking a sip of his drink. "Too much trouble for moral sex."

"Well it's worth it," Erik said firmly. "All I ask is that you keep from ripping each others' throats out while you're planning this."
 
"Technically," Sam drawled, "Ah called un marchitó vieja hacha de batalla de un puta, an' jes' figgered that schraffiertgesicht Fotze was th' best translation."

"That..." Colin paused. "Erik, what have you been teaching her in your lessons?"

"Picked that up on mah own," Sam replied, before deflating. "An' yer right Erik. Ah shouldn't have. It's just she's so... so enfureciendo maldito, sabes? No sabía que no podia comer ese tipo de cosas, y ella no tenía derecho a llamarme que cuando esteba reatando de ayudar!"

Everyone stared at her for a moment. "Interesting," Colin finally said. "Your accent is barely noticable in Spanish.."



"I will, my heart," Algernon said siftly. "And... did I really say 'ain't'?" He smiled a little. "You should take that as a compliment, Anne Marie. Forty years work eliminating my New South Wales soeech patterns, gone in an instant."

He might have kissed her then, but the sounds of rapid-fire Spanish from the other room drifted in. He sighed dramatically. "Perhaps we should intervene?" he suggested. "That is generally a sign that Samantha is getting rather worked up."
 
"Don't know where she gets it," Erik said with a shrug and the tone of an exasperated parent. He stroked her hand soothingly as Sam went off in Spanish; as a polyglot he generally didn't mind when she went off in other languages. "Lo sé," he replied. "Pero tienes que ser paciente es todo. Eventualmente - unos cuantos años quizás - ella puede venir alrededor, pero solamente si tu no le da más razones para no tener gusto de tu." He sighed and shook his head. "Also it's 'beilgesichtig.' Schraffiertgesicht is Luxembourgish and I won't have her thinking I'm not teaching you properly on top of everything else." He managed a small smile."

"You lot with your multiculturalism," Kieran complained. "If not everyone in the room can understand it then don't speak it! That was always the rule in my house, and I don't speak Mexican. So unless you want me to start calling you lot dirty Gaelic names..."

~*~

Anne Marie did smile a bit at the compliment of letting his accent slip. "We all have our moments, nes pais? It's unfair that England gets to dictate what everyone else does, anyway." At the suggestion that they return she also sighed. "The cake is frosted. May as well." Leaning in she kissed his cheek gently, then his lips. "I love you," she whispered before stepping away to the other room, half-finished sherry in hand. "What's all this then?" she asked, settling herself at one end of a squashy sofa. "What has upset our dear Samantha on this happiest of days? You're not getting a carrot cake, by the way. Just a plain one with buttercream," she added, gesturing at the couple with her glass before taking a sip.

"Erik's mum," Kieran said bluntly.

"Ah." She leaned in a little, looking conspiratorial. "In-laws are bitches, Samantha. Get used to this fact now and you'll be happier for it, I promise you."
 
"Ah never reckoned on no cake nohiw," Sam laughed, "so plain wit' buttercream sounds jes' fine. An' Ah reckon y'all are talkin' from some experience in th' matter?" It was a blatant attempt to fish for information. She'd learned - and in some cases worked out - that the late Monsieur La Monte was... unmourned. Wealthy, yeah, but something that made the usually reserved Anne Marie frightened. Or angry. Or both.

"She does indeed," Algernon said blandly, but Sam caught the warning in his expression. "The cake is more than fine - it is a masterppiece."

"Ah'm sore it is," Sam agreed amicably, conceeding. "When kin we cut it?"

"Perhaps after the Professor and Kieran and I attend to the generator?" Colin suggested. "And Erik as well, if you can spare him?" He gestured at a vent. "The evening passed well enough, but heat would be a delightful option."

"Ah reckon Ah kin," Sam sighed dramatically. "Anythin' Ah kin do?"

"Do you know anything about thorium heat engines?" Colin asked.

Sam pursed her lips in thought. "Ah reckon," she said slowly, "thag if'n Ah try realky hard, Ah jes' might be able ta pronounce that."

"Then, no," Colin answered, rising. "Shall we?"
 
Once the men trooped down to the basement Anne Marie motioned vaguely with her glass, just the tiniest bit tipsy. She never mentioned the specifics, or the truth of how he had come to die, but her undisguised hatred of her late husband was one of her favorite topics at this level of intoxication. It was just enough to loosen her usually rigid manners a hair, but not enough to set her mouth running.

"He thinks it upsets me, talking about them," she said bluntly to Sam once the basement door had closed, gesturing to it with her wine hand. "In truth I've never given a damn that my mother-in-law despises me and always has. I feel just the same about her. His father--God rest him--was actually a lovely man and was always very kind to me, but evil and spite always tend to outlive goodness, I find. The old fossil has always been convinced that I married her son for the money. Can't say she was wrong..." She raised her eyebrows in a good-naturedly conspiratorial manner as she drained the last of her drink. "But Monsieur knew this, too, and was kind anyway. Insisted I call him Papa. He knew the position of women in this world, particularly the prospects of an orphan like myself with only a single friend in this wide world, and didn't hold it against me. No idea what he ever saw in her, but he called her the love of his life." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Once he died I had absolutely no reason to speak to them anymore, as her daughters are just as spiteful and mean as she. I tolerate them one evening every half-decade or so, just to keep up appearances, and it's more painful to endure than any injury I've sustained at work."

Anne Marie looked over Sam and gave a thin smile. "Your relationship doesn't have to be the same, you know," she said eventually. "As one motherless woman to another, do not make the same mistake I did and alienate her early on. It may take a while--years, even--but she may eventually warm to you, especially if she sees that you are trying. No one will ever replace your mother...but it may be nice to have another. Do not become a bitter old shrew like me, or her for that matter, just for the sake of spite."
 
Pouring herself a drink, Sam claimed an overstuffed chair by the fireplace. "Yer bein' too hard on yerself," she insisted, putting her feet up. "Y'all ain't old." She let that hang in the air for a moment before laughing. "Naw, Ah'm funnin' you - y'all ain't bitter, nor a shrew neither."

Sipping her drink, Sam kicked her boots off and plopped her feet on an ottoman. "Ah do wanna have a good relationship wit' her," she sighed. "Ah really do. It's jes', well, we didn't exactly meet under th' best o' circumstances, y'know? Ah mean, we didn't exactly reckon on Erik's folks gettin' home that night..."

God, but that was a mortifying memory. So much so that she took a larger swallow of her drink than intended, one that left her coughing. "An' we been on th' wrong foot ever , an' she's been a full-on queen bitch about it. Ain't good enough, ain't smart enough, ain't girly enough..."

She slammed down the last of her scotch, then frowned into the empty glass. "Girly enough fer Erik," she muttered. "Ain't never had me no complaints 'bout that."

Still grumbling, she got up and grabbed the bottle off the mantle. Stomping softly in her stocking feet, she flopped down on the squishy couch. "The stupid thing," she huffed, refilling her glass and then Anne Marie's, "the stupid thing is how much it hurt, y'know? Goy Tranvestit." She downed her glass and refilled it. "Time was, Ah thought Ah wanted ta be taken fer a man, an that... that bruja vieja marchita says that an'... joder."

She glared onto her glass, watching the amber fluid dance in the firelight. "Cain't win, kin Ah? So, kin a bitter young shrew ask fer tips?"
 
"Oh but I am," Anne Marie protested, looking sufficiently mysterious as she pulled her stocking feet up onto the couch. "A bitter shrew, that is. Perhaps not quite so old as I feel."

She frowned as Sam poured out her problems and another drink. She sipped the scotch thoughtfully, trying to downplay her cough as much as she could. Anne Marie's poison was wine and all things related; generally she diluted harder liquors with something else, but refused to be perceived as unable to keep up. When Sam asked for tips she nodded slowly.

"Well, the very first thing is that you have a vagina," Anne Marie pointed out, "which means you qualify as 'girly' enough for anyone. The second thing is that you are intelligent and oughtn't let anyone tell you otherwise. Just because she knows more about society--or even her own religion--than you doesn't mean you're stupid. As for getting along...?" She shrugged. "Patience. Let the cruel things slide off and know that it is because she is the ignorant one. Do not let her dictate to you who you are, nor change yourself for her, but perhaps be a little less quick to bite back. Meet hatred with kindness and eventually she'll tire of a one-sided battle. Evil begets evil, trust me on this." She took another, smaller sip of scotch to let that sink in. "And make sure Erik is still your defender in this. She is his mother, but you will be his wife. And do not both of your holy books say that he ought to leave his parents and cleave to you? Loving one does not preclude the defense of the other, and if you choose to engage remember this too. If you do not expect him to stand idly by while she tears you down, do not expect the same if you tear her down. He loves you both."

She set her scotch aside and leaned forward a little, looking at Sam very seriously. "And finally: you are not a bitter shrew. Not yet. Not even close. My position is not an enviable one and you shouldn't dare to strive for it. You will be much happier and less burdened to eschew this path, I promise you." She sat back and smiled a little. "Eschew the shrew." She giggled a little. "Remember that Samantha."
 
"Eschew the shrew," Sam repeated, giggling a little at the rhyme. "Eschew the shrew." Her voice began to sound a little stilted as she struggled to enunciate. "You too, eschew the shrew. That's what you do, it's true. Eschew the shrew, or you'll feel blue."

Pausing, she knicked back her scotch before refilling both glasses once more. "Ah'm either too drunk," she announced, "or Ah ain't drunk enough, not by a damn long shot." Carefully she tried to stand up, onky to flop back down. Two tries later, she was finally standing uoright on wobbly legs. "Just drunk enough," she judged, then held out a hand to Anne Marie. "Food'll help. Boys won't... won't mind none. If we have a piece now, I mean." Her hand pawed vaguely at the air. "Jes' ta soak up th' booze, Ah mean."

With a grunt she pulled Anne Marie to her feet, then draped an arm around her shoulder. "Now," she said, "tell me about yer mother-in-law. Gotta take some notes on what not ta do." She considere thst. "Or, maybe, on what Ah should do."
 
Anne Marie snickered ceaselessly at Sam's little sing-song nursery rhyme. She widened her eyes a little as Sam filled her glass even more--she hadn't even finished that one!--and watched with amusement as she tried to stand. When she proclaimed herself 'just drunk enough' Anne Marie laughed and shook her head emphatically, then stopped for fear of falling over from dizziness.

"Just drunk enough?" she said incredulously, her accent becoming a little thicker as her tongue struggled to pronounce English as Algie had taught her. "My dear, you are--comment ça marche?--I believe the word is soûl. Non...in English...ah yes! Blasted." She giggled and took Sam's hand to allow herself to be heaved to her feet. "They should not have gone to fiddle with the damned furnace if they wanted cake!" she agreed enthusiastically, marching into the kitchen where the warm, frosted cake awaited.

"My mother-in-law?" Anne Marie noted the way her tongue had difficulty wrapping around the words and resolved to enjoy the level of intoxication she had already achieved instead of making it worse. She was certain there would be no way of convincing Algie to explore her as they'd explored one another last night if she were this drunk by bedtime. "Other than she's the most frigid, spiteful shrew on the face of the planet there isn't much to tell. She hates me, I hate her, and if she doesn't kick off soon I shall put arsenic in her tea the next time I'm forced to attend a family function. I really shall." She nodded insistently as she cut the cake, then split the cut portion in half and put them on two plates. She'd taken a little more than a quarter of the entire thing. "Tea! D'you want tea? Tea is always so lovely with cake..." She didn't wait for an answer, however, before taking a large bite and moving to the kitchen table.

"Do not poison your mother-in-law's tea," she advised, fixating on tea but not moving to make it. "The difference between you and me, chere, is you love your husband. Always a wonderful thing to have. Anyway, the point is you love him and he loves you...but he also loves his mother, so you shouldn't poison her tea. Besides, you aren't nearly subtle enough to get away with it." She giggled into her cake as she imagined Sam attempting to poison Mrs. Heinz-Schmidt, getting caught, then just shooting her in the face. What made it funnier was she imagined Eriks mother to look like the elder Vueve LaMonte.
 
"Ah wouldn' know how ta bo 'bout poisonin' nobidy," Sam scoffed. "Even Erik's ma. Ah'd jes' shoot th'..." Something Anne Marie had said percolated through, demanding her attentiom. "Th' difference is that Ah love mah husband? Ah ain't married yet!"

Pausing to take a bite of cake, she cinsidered what she'd just said. "At ain wite," she mumbled with a spray of crumbs, the washed her bite down with a shot of scotch. "Ah mean, not yet. But that ain't what... thag is, y'all didn't love yer husband?" She sounded baffled, now. "Why'n tarnatiin'd y'marry him, then?"

Wobbling to her feet, she found two delicate blue and white china teacups and carefully brought them to the table. Then she located the sugar in the pantry and some cream in an ice box, and carried them over as well. "Ah mean, Ah ain't pryin'. Wouldn't dream o' tryin'." She giggled at the rhyme. "Ah'd be lyin'if Ah said Ah was tryin'." Reakizing she was babbling, she dragged her chair back out and plopped down, didding into the cake once more. "Ah mean, Ah sure as hell wouldn't marry Erik if'n Ah didn't love him."

She chewed down another bite, thiughtfully. "Probably still fuck'm, though. Gid knows he's good inna sack." Another bite. "Real good." Another as she shifted a little, wishing Erik was there right now. "Yer husband - Monsewer LaMonte. If'n y'all didn't love him, was he at least a good lay?"
 
"Well close enough," Anne Marie argued through a mouthful of cake, waving away Sam's protests that she wasn't married yet. "You're going to marry him, so it counts." When Sam asked why she'd married Gustav she rolled her eyes. "For the money, I told you so already," she replied impatiently. "Orphan girl with only one friend in the world--one friend who certainly would not entertain the idea of marrying a girl so young--and a modest income from an inheritance? It was my only prospect at any sort of mobility. No one else would have and he offered. What else was I supposed to do?" Supposing that she ought to make tea if Sam was getting out the cream and sugar, she wobbled to her feet and went about putting the kettle on.

It was a lie she'd told many times when pretending to be candid. Anne Marie was quietly impressed with herself that she maintained this lie even when inebriated. Then again, Algie had made certain she would be able to lie under such conditions. Before she'd killed Gustav Algie had a number of times gotten her drunker than she had any business being until she could recite the lie--convincingly--without allowing any of the truth to slip out. The smell of absinthe (and licorice) still made her gag and there were several days of her fifteenth year which were blurred flashes or missing entirely. She pushed herself to her feet again as the kettle whistled and Sam mused over her relationship with Erik, poured the tea, then sat just as Sam asked whether he'd been any good in bed.

"No," she said, a brittle edge to her voice. Her eyes narrowed and she set her jaw even as she silently refused the onslaught of nightmares and memories the right to control her. This was something she'd never talked about with Algie, not explicitly even though he'd always seen the aftermath as she came running to him for care and comfort. Anne Marie had never said aloud, to anyone or to herself, what Gustav LaMonte had done to her. Quickly she fought against the alcohol to try and concoct some convincing half-lie which might end Sam's line of questioning. "He was selfish and controlling in all aspects of his life," she said at last. "I did not mourn his death."
 
"He was selfish and controlling in all aspects if his life," Anne Marie said, giving the words a rehearsed quality. "I did not mourn his death."

Sam hesitated, a forkfull of cake halfway to her lips. Even drunk, she recognized the tenor of those words. She'd looked into the murder of a wealthy caballero once, shot in the back twice with a .45 while he'd been inspecting his herds. His widow had said something similar, while trying to hide old bruises on her face. Sam hadn't missed them, though. Or the lever-action Winchester on the wall.

"Well," she said carefully, feeling a desperate curiousity and a simultaneous desire not to pry. To cover anything stupid, she stuffed cake into her mouth. "Well," she said again, "probably a good thing he's dead then, ain't it? Don't need no selfish, controllin' jerks around, do we?"

She hesitated, smiling a sly and wistful smile. "Not that Ah don't mind a little controllin', once inna while. When it's all in good fun, but y'all ain't talkin' 'bout that an' there Ah go pryin'. Ah'm sorry, Ah truly am." Head wobbling just a little, she oeered at the two cups befire her and tried to decide on one. Finally, with a shrug, she knocked back the last of her scotch and picked up her tea. Sipping it, she cast about for a way to change the subject. "So... uhm... y'all seein' anyone? Ah don't reckon therapy makes fer fufillin' relationships."
 
Anne Marie managed a small, sad smile. "Jerk is the least of epithets which belong to him," she replied before Sam continued about control, "all in good fun." That was something Anne Marie still struggled with--control--and often had to be outside of herself if her target didn't enjoy her control of the situation before she killed them. She hoped that Algie would understand that...

Waving away Sam's apologies, she shook her head. "You were making conversation," she said kindly. "You hardly could have known."

"So...uhm...y'all seein' anyone? Ah don't reckon therapy makes fer fufillin' relationships," Sam asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Samantha you're engaged; I don't think Erik would approve of this line of questioning," Anne Marie teased, giving her a small smile before taking a sip of tea. "Non," she lied, setting the cup back in its saucer. "In my lines of work it is best not to form attachments. I've had lovers outside of my clients, but I would never think of attaching myself to any of them. Unfortunately, knowing the ways of the human mind opens up an invisible world of flaws in anybody you meet. Both a gift and a curse. Besides, they always get caught up in something new and beautiful, then find they don't like the person I am. I often don't like the person they are--too petty or too naive--but I don't see what that has to do with sex. I think Kieran had even convinced himself for a while that he was infatuated with me, but if I can say anything for him it's that he's a realist; easily disillusioned."
 
"Kieran? But ain't he humu... Ah mean, homeo..." Sam foind herself tripping over her tongue. "He likes men, right? Or is he more like me, an' fancies th' ladies an' th' fellahs?" That didn't sound right to her. "Or, was he just foolin' himself, a-tryin' ta be what he ain't?"

As she said it, her face fell. "Like Ah was," she mumbled, groping for the scotch. "Not wantin' ta admit what Ah was, fer fear o'.. o' somethin'." Shr knocked ber drink back, then friwned as she realized she'd grabbed her tea by mistake. "Git a drinkin' problem," she mumbled. "Ah cain't even drink th' right thing."

It took three tries, but she successfully poured herself more tea. "Kin see why y'gotta tough love life, though. Kinda like bein' a Ranger, Ah guess. Y'deal wit' so much scum, y'get ta thinkin' everyone's like that. But Erik ain't." She diwned her tea again, and dug back into her caje. "Erik ain't. Dunno 'bout his ma, though."

Suddenly, she loomed up with a gleam of mad inspiration in her eyes. "We outta find y'someone!" she declared enthusiastically. "Y'deserve ta be happy, don' you? Course y'do. What's yer type, hm? Fergit yer clients - what'd y'all want in a man? Or a woman, fer that matter?"
 
"The latter," Anne Marie said, subtly pushing the scotch out of Sam's reach. "He was in denial for a very long time, mostly for religious and familial reasons. Mother spinning in her grave and all that. It took years before he finally admitted it to himself, and in the meantime he tried to latch on to me in a desperate attempt to delude himself." She smiled and sipped her tea, slowly sobering but not giving up on her slab of cake. "It has been an interesting journey for both of us."

At Sam's wondering whether Erik's mother were scum just like everyone else she smiled a little. "Well then, focus on Erik," she suggested. "And maybe his father? You haven't mentioned him much so I can't imagine he's too terrible." She sucked the frosting off of her fork tines before taking another large bite. At Sam's declaration that they had to find her someone she raised her eyebrows with a dubious look.

"I'm perfectly happy without ties. My life is complicated enough as it is," she assured her. At least it didn't show on her face, as she feared it had, that she was deliriously happy with Algernon. But...perhaps going along with her game would be useful, throwing suspicion off of the two of them. "Besides, my type is men," she said after a pause. "I don't mind sleeping with women, but I would never wish to become romantically entangled with them. They cling." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. The problem is I doubt there are many men in the world today who accept a woman as an independent living being with her own faculties and agency. He would have to accept first that I work, second how much I travel for work, and third my particular line of work. He would have to challenge me intellectually but not authoritatively, and to have a good sense of style." She realized a little too late that she had just described Algie, ridiculously Dickensian nightclothes notwithstanding. "And he must make me laugh," she added in hopes of throwing Sam off. Algie did make her laugh, but with a sly sense of humor which often escaped others.
 
Sam considered the list Anne Marie had rattled off. "A fellah, one that kin take y'all bein' independent an' kin handle yer profession, an' that's funny." She wracked her brains, thinking over the men she knew. "Well, Erik might fit, but - bein' honest here - Ah'd shoot you if'n y'tried." She smiled, hoping Anne Marie understood it was a joke. Mostly a joke. Well, not really a joke at all. But... "Ah reckon he ain't quite yer type, though. Too young."

Sipping her tea, she drummed her fingers on the table. "Not Kieran, he don' like women that way. An' Colin seems too, well, Colin fer y'all - he don' strike me as a long-term sorta fellah, y'know?" Suddenky, she snirted laughter. "Ah kniw! Ah reckon th' Perfessor'd fit th' bill! If'n we coukd teach him ta have a sense o' humor, anyhow." She snickered as she sipped her tea. "Nice guy, an' smart. But he's so damn serious."

Sge finished her tea. "Runnin' outta options, here. Ah mean, Ah gits two unmarried brothers, but Ah dunno 'biut that. Mebbe Ah kin shoot Erik's ma all accidental-like? An' y'kin git ta know his dad?"
 
"Ah reckon he ain't quite yer type, though." Anne Marie nodded and opened her mouth to agree before Sam added, "Too young."

"My dear how old do you think I am?" she cried. "I'm only eight years his senior, ten at most; not even old enough to be his aunt! Mais non. Fortune favors the bold, and though your Erik is many things, he is not that." Sam continued to rack her brains over who they both knew and she smirked at the idea of being paired with Colin. He was, as Sam said, too Colin. He may have been good for a one-night stand but she couldn't see him settling down any time soon. Besides, although they both came from privilege she had done something very different with hers, and it was likely that if they ever talked seriously at any length about it they would butt heads.

When Sam pointed out that Algernon might be a good match, Anne Marie joined in the snickering. "For an Australian he's very English," she agreed. "Besides, if you think I'm too old for Erik, then Professor Swift is certainly too old for me." She choked on her tea when Sam suggested Erik's father. "So I'm too old to romance him, but not too young to be his stepmother? Samantha I age ten years every time you open your mouth!" She shook her head, smiling a little before finishing off her cake.

"There was a delightful Spanish Marquis a few years ago," Anne Marie admitted, swallowing the last of it. "Unfortunately he died before we could really get to know each other. He was an exquisite companion for an evening, but death follows me." She grimaced ruefully.
 
"Death follows yeh?" Sam snickered. "Un grad mort, or un petty mort?" She chuckled at her own joke, before something she'd heard caught up. "Hang on... yer only ten years older'n Erik?" She ticked off something on her fingers, frowning. "That means... y'cain't be more'n a few years older'n... me?"

Looking puzzled, she shoved more cake in her miuth and poured more tea. It was tepid by now, but she sipped it anyway. "Always reckoned y'was older'n me," she mumbled. "Y'always seem so... so confident. So... experienced, y'know? A real lady." Her exprexsion crumpled, but then she shook herself and reached for the scotch. "Fuck it, Ah ain't gettin' down on mahself."

Knocking back a miuthfull, she leaned forward. "Right, so Erik's dad's right out. 'Less y'got a thing fer older men, that is." She waited a moment, watching Anne Marie's expression, then plowed on. "So, that's jes 'boutvall th' menfolk Ah know, 'less y'wanna meet Bart or Kenny." A frown. "Speakin' oh wich, how long's it take ta fix one o' them reactor-thingies?"
 
"Both," Anne Marie replied dryly, pouring herself some more tea. She frowned when Sam seemed to realize that she was only a few years older than her. "I'm only thirty, my dear," she protested. "I've always looked mature for my age but I hardly thought I looked that old!" If she were honest it was hurting her vanity a bit. Did she have wrinkles? Had Sam spotted a grey hair she hadn't? Algie thought she was beautiful, and that was what mattered, but a good deal of her work outside the Society depended upon her looks.

Anne Marie's placid expression twitched a little at the mention of older men, but she shrugged. "I've no objection to older men should the right one come along," she said casually. "But although I'm sure they're fine, upstanding men I would hardly be more comfortable becoming involved with a coworker's brother or father than I would with a coworker. I'm sorry Samantha, but I don't intend to become entangled in your or Erik's families any time soon."

"Speakin' o' which, how long's it take ta fix one o' them reactor-thingies?"

"No idea." Anne Marie frowned, got to her feet, and was pleased to find herself walking rather straighter than before. She opened the door to the cellar and called down, "Really now, how long does it take to fix a reactor?"

"Keep your hair on, woman!" Kieran grunted from somewhere in the dark below. "Almost...go--Mother fuck!"

"Well if you lot don't return soon, all of the cake will be gone and it shall be entirely your fault."
 
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