Hallowe'en 2008 11

Helmine was silent for a time. "Arr," she said, then knit her brows together when she wagered a guess as to what word these letters together could make. "Secret?"

Nico looked blank while checking the suggestion against what she had so far, as well as the last clue left, and nodded slowly. As she turned away from Helmine, the movement became a headshake and her eyes narrowed.

Glaring in the direction the speaker of their hosts had been hovering, she growled, "Very funny," clearly thinking it was anything but.

"Droll," Helmine said icily, drumming with the tip of her boot. She examined the jewel again. "Well. Must not look in the gift horse's... oh, bloody hell."

"Intriguing."

"Huh. Why?"

"Oh, because if a woman is going to rebuff me, wordplay is one of the more charming ways she could do so."

"Geek."

"Geek."

"Basaltine, stop agreeing with me."

"No, you stop."

"Feeling all right, Nico?" asked Suitov, leaving the other pair to it.

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing as she let it out. It wasn't quite enough to work up a smile, though.

"Nothing important. Teasing like that - someone pretending they're going to tell something, but all the time planning to keep it to themselves - ticks me off, that's all."

"I see," Suitov said. "Never go into politics," he added. His smile showed sympathy.

Behind him...

"Curtain-shredding yowler!"

"Tick-ridden crossbr--"

"Cease, if you please," Suitov said over his shoulder. There was immediate silence.

His first suggestion drew a "Hah! Wasn't planning to." It seemed to work well as a diversion.

After the little aside, Nico asked, "Are you speaking from general knowledge or experience?"

Helmine was unsure of what to do anymore, so she simply hid the jewel inside her garments and thumped off toward the food again. She looked unpleased for some reason, and snuck a look at Suitov, warily.

"I avoid issues of statecraft whenever feasible. It isn't good for my health," Suitov told Nico, clearly not going to elaborate any further. He'd caught the look from Helmine. It didn't surprise him.

Basaltine and Weft glared at each other for a second. Weft turned in the opposite direction and ran a hand through his hair three times. The dog pulled a face and then set off to plunder the sticky fizzy stuff again. Whatever it was, he liked it. It made his belches taste of colours.

Nico gave a silent chuckle. Yes, she was curious now, but she could take a hint, and chose to do so, not wanting to risk more frustration this evening.

She looked around and covered a yawn with the hand that did not the acorn.

"I guess we should go if they've gone, right?" Weft said.

"Anyone got a sack?" asked Basaltine, who took the concept of doggy bags very enthusiastically.

"I'll see if Wilbur is still awake," Suitov said. Never mind the ridiculous armour; he definitely wasn't leaving without his walking boots.

Wilbur was still awake, and accepted his thanks most graciously.

Since Nico couldn't offer a sack, bag, basket or anything else useful to the doggie-beast, she ruffled his neck instead, and said goodbye to the rest of the assembly.

Basaltine licked her and tried the (bright red, glowing) puppy eyes on in case it would delay her departure.

The srollen cloakroom attendant, who seemed to be perpetually fighting off a cold, was well used to the rush of people getting changed back into civvies.

Suitov let the others go first while helping the dog out of his scaly waistcoat. Weft hung around and chattered to him about swords and fake chiromancers and ghosts and male voice choirs. It was a reassuring torrent of words.

Nevertheless, the quondam White Knight was still... wondering.

Helmine, having found everything of interest that there was to the assorted sweets, made her way to change back into her "civilian" outfit. She thanked Wilbur again, though she was still stiffly formal. It would do no good, showing people how much she felt.