Page Five

"Sure, pick one," Sylvie told Sarina. It was a better thing to say than 'you are all insane, aren't you?'

Baskerville's surprise had startled Nico, too, but the reactions got loud laughter out of her.

Sarina grinned at Baskerville mischieviously as she surveyed the bottles left to choose from. She reached for first one then another, then back to the first... the girl simply couldn't make up her mind which to choose. After several silly minutes of indecision, she picked one of the vials.

She winked at Baskerville as she claimed her Illusion Bottle.

"Perhaps our musical friend over there would like one as well?" She mused out loud, all the while considering just tossing caution to the wind and well, tossing the bottle in the general direction of the piano. There was more than one way to open a bottle, after all ...

His eyes tracked the bottle and grew larger for as long as he was still, watching it. Without a word or even a pause to set his wine down on the piano, he approached and fished for a bottle with an expression of slight discomfort mixed into a sheepish smile. "Thank you," Sebastian murmurred, stealing a glance at them all. He then returned to the piano and set his wine aside, and taking a deep breath, he put his fingers around the stopper. He pulled after a moment's hesitation.

Suitov took a couple of almost unnoticeable steps backwards.

What broke out of the bottle could have been called an explosion; a coal-black cloud.

However, Baskerville's explosion had been easier on the ears. A cacophony of voices, booming or shrill and screeching, yelling on the general lines of "Naughty boys get no presents!" and "Repent!", loud enough to make anyone's ears ring, was presumably the main point of the display. It didn't seem like it wanted to stop, either.

Sylvie backed backed away before she remembered what she'd told Baskerville just before. The problems was that the unbelievable racket made it very hard to concentrate. Unlike Nico, she couldn't even cover her ears, since she needed her hands free.

Sebastian hissed as his ears protested, not with pain but by some uncomfortable vibrating sensation. The cacophony struck a bit deeper than he had imagined anything could, and for a moment he wondered if he was going to panic. Wait, why wonder if I will panic if I am aware that's a ridiculous thing to do? Silly boy.

Fumbling a bit, he closed the bottle with the stopper. His poor ears found reprieve immediately.

Lucky those who can see the obvious solution to a problem, even while being stuck in a quite opaque dark cloud.
It grew more transparent slowly, obviously wanting to hang on for a bit yet.

Sylvie felt a bit stupid; Nico regarded the whole thing with a mixture of pity and amusement.

He was quiet, wondering if the bottle would do that again if he opened it. Rattled as he was, Sebastian wasn't aware that his hands were shaking or that he was blushing. He thought he heard tinkle of laughter, but wasn't sure if it came from the bottle or...

Perry was biting her lip, having to do so quite seriously in order to stop herself guffawing. When the moment passed she sidled closer to Suitov so she could lower her voice. "Ay ay ay. I don't think I'd better open mine."

"Not in mixed company, at least?" he replied reflexively.

"Not in front of Klavira's innocent ears."

"She's older than you."

"Historically or by our personal timelines? That's a more technical question than you imagine."

Baskerville headbutted Sebastian reassuringly in the knee. "Never mind, elf boy. You can share mine."

"And you didn't have one of his pastries yet. They're delicious." Sylvie wanted to apologise for the trouble, but hoped distraction was the better option for Sebastian.

"Right, where would we get when we did whatever we were told. Or are you just not hungry?" Nico asked.

Sarina chuckled. First an explosion, then a cloud of insults...what could possibly be left to pop out of her bottle? She grabbed the bottle and gave the cork a tentitive tug briefly before ... wait, did some one mention pastries? Instantly side-tracked, she whipped her head around at the mention of food and dropped the bottle. It didn't shatter, it didn't roll, it didn't crack or break in any way. There was the tiniest little shiver as the cork slid free of the bottle...

...and what broke out of it was applause, followed by the sounds of a crowd settling - followed by a laudation praising Sarina's proficiency in magic, masterful control of marvellously complex spells, and all that, occasionally interrupted by cheers from the crowd.

Baskerville, caught out just as he'd begun to nose the basket of greaseproof-paper-wrapped pastries forward again, jumped at the sound before he worked out where it was coming from.

Iceheart, though eager to observe the workings of that illusion magic close up, was for now more interested in Sarina's reaction.

It was the last straw. He snapped back to reality, admonishing himself. "Maybe later, thank you," Sebastian said in a quietly polite tone, suddenly smiling again - although the smile was somewhat strange. Uncertain, even.

He had the decency to look amused before he set his bottle on the piano. Carefully.

Nico shrugged and turned to watch the show.

With half of the little group apparently watching either Sarina or that bottle, Sylvie gathered her courage and, before she could change her mind, handed Sebastian something small wrapped in a cloth she pulled from an inside pocket of her jacket.

"Um, I had that made for you. I don't know if it's really of any use for you, the idea just... arose from a conversation. It's supposed to keep off chickens."

The talisman itself was a small oblong with rounded corners, engraved with odd runes, or possibly just decorative designs, attached to a thin leather string on which there were two longish beads made from bird bones, one of each side of the pendant.

Sebastian had been intent on just watching the show as well, but Sylvie's sudden attention made him narrow his eyes and raise his brows a little. After he had peeled the cloth away he looked at the talisman for a few seconds and smiled. It wasn't the same kind of fragile, uncertain smile or grin he had been flashing for as long as he'd been inside the hall, not by far.

"Thank you," he said gently, closing his hand around the trinket. "Maybe I won't need to scare them with headwounds anymore," he said a little carefully, smiling only the slightest bit (but sincerely).

She smiled back, relieved he wasn't annoyed, or embarrassed.

Not quite under her breath she said, "That did not seem to work well, anyway."

"No, rather poorly all in all," he said and shrugged, relaxing. Of course the situation had been, well, more than a fair share... different from the usual. He still remembered Weft's laughter. As unpleasant a sound as it was, it had been quite worth it too. As had been the display of worry he hadn't expected, not from a total stranger.

He hadn't, of course, forgotten that. And - contrary to what certain clergymen or criminal historians might have though - he liked to pay his debts.

Sylvie picked up her glass and finally tasted the wine, contemplating their first meeting. With all the blame of who did what to whom flying this way and that, she was glad Sebastian did not seem angry at her. And the talisman was the kind of thing that happened when two tinkerer got talking, and "can this be done?" is answered with "well, let's try".

She was curious about the half-elf, but too self-conscious to just ask him personal questions (like, for example, "what do you do for a living?"). Since the bottled speech seemed not particularly interesting, she cast around for something harmless to talk about.

"Say, that legendary namesake of yours Perry mentioned, have you heard of him?"

Sebastian had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Oh, I have more than heard of him," he admitted and quickly slipped farther into the discussion in a tone that was somewhat more cultivated than previously. "The Hat is something of a delicate act, silk on the blade. But the stories, well, some romantic tales of robbery from the rich, some trickster-tales. There exists a hint of religious fluff, too. Lady Luck's church considers him a part of their, hm, divine arm. Of what, well, that is for the Lady to answer."

The half-elf blinked a few times and then smiled a secret smile. "I'm not quite sure when it all began, but there's stories many centuries old of an irreverent, charming rogue with a distaste toward greedy landowners or monarchs and the common thief alike, that I'm sure of. And new stories are born every year." He sipped his half-full glass of wine and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "I'm nicer than the stories, I should think. Except for when confronted by ferocious fowls." He offered a slightly self-deprecating smile.