Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: ~F~ Enter. *comes the murmered response, just loud enough to be heard*

Myles Jordan: He reaches for the handle with a swoop of his free arm, and let's the door swing open. He takes a step inside and closes the door behind him, before looking inside the room.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *the room looks alot like the point of an epee. oh. no wait, thats the point of an epee. beyond it, a pale girl, hair slightly mussed, looking a little odd in silk pajamas and white driving gloves. the point hovers at his neck as she regards him almly, grey eyes a-glitter.* Good Morning. Who might you be?

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *the room itself is white. bookshelves line a wall, reaching the high vaulted ceiling. a fireplace at the far end, no fire. two small white suede loveseats... a white suede chair.. a weapon rack towards the window and a large bed with a small divot in the middle where it was recently slept in.*

Myles Jordan: "Wah!" He leans back away from the point, "Do not name my name here until this place is warded, Miss Randelle." His voice is grainy and rough.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: warded sir? *the girl simply extends her arm, keeping the tip within striking distance, her eyes narrowing a moment*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: 7,6,2,

Myles Jordan: He narrows his eyes, waiting.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: mm. *a thin white brow piques* As per our arangement sir?

Myles Jordan: "As per." He looks around the room while leaning back a little further, ~french~ "This place seems very... clean."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: ~F~ Thank you. *she extends the epee further a foot slipping forward to maintain her balance* ~F~ I trust that unpleasant cat that was following you is not roaming the grounds currently? *cool grey eyes flicker as she waits on his answer*

Myles Jordan: ~french~ "No, she is hiding from me, far far away." He takes a step back. ~french~ "Are you enjoying this?"

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: ~F~ Of course. I rather delight in unknown men impersonating others at 5:00 in the morning. Do go on sir.. *she slips forward, blade still at his throat* ~F~ There was no cat. What is your name, and why have you come? *her eyes narrow*

Myles Jordan: ~a french sigh~ He rolls his head back in mock exhaustion, "I thought you were talking about the girl I was after. And if you're not, I don't know about any cat besides my old girlfriend's. Why are the french always so literal?"

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *the eyebrow piques up again* What color was the rose sir?

Myles Jordan: 2,3,4,

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she looks very much like should the answer not suit her she will draw her blade vertically and end him. without so much as an "excuse me"*

Myles Jordan: He thinks. He thinks hard. "It was by the pool... and I was trying to be all suave... gimme a moment..."

Myles Jordan: 6,6,5,

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *a moment looks to be pushing it, her left arm dawing back slightly to ensure more force, her eyes on his*

Myles Jordan: He remembers, "Green. But fuck it." He snaps his hands into fists and barks a word.

Myles Jordan: 9,8,5,

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: 2,3,6,

Myles Jordan: He backs up the one step to lean against the door, then walks around her. Then he runs for a weapon. The effect wears off.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she remains frozen in place a moment, before she's able to occupy space again and whirls around, eyes flashing*

Myles Jordan: He jumps around the furniture and grabs another epee from the weapons rack.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *the glare of headlights passes across the window*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: I will not tolerate such insolence in my home Hermetic. *she murmers, looking to the blade he grabs, lights illuminating the ghost of a girl a moment, glinting off the blade. oh yes. she knows who he is.* Do mind yourself. *her blade is out. ready*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *that little girl... maddening.. so much insanity centered around what amounts to sixty pounds of basic biology. The stoic Judge's face locked in grim inward focus as he steps out of the vehicle and locks the door behind.*

Myles Jordan: He keeps the tip of the blade turned downward, and seems quite angry, "Good, you know who I am. Remember, do not say my name while this place is not warded, or shit will fly. It is impolite, though, to point weapons at people's throats."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: It is also suspicious for apparent strangers to spout of things they shouldn't have knowledge of, and visit a woman in the inappropriate hours of the morning. Do Not speak to me of propriety Sir. *her blade? not so much in the downward position*

Myles Jordan: He shrugs. "So do we settle down, or settle this?" His blade is still pointed at the floor, but there is alot of distance between them.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: ward it. *she murmers, eyes on him, thin creature ready to slap him with that blade if need be* And we shall speak pleasantly. However, Should I stop in motion again, you will not have oppurtunity for pleasanties.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He enters the code on the gate, then moves back to the suv to drive it through before it slides closed.*

Myles Jordan: He chuckles, but it's a deep grainy sort. "Acceptable."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she remains silent, hoping this was a good descision, epee tip flicking slightly*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *must get one of those remotes.. his attention called to other things as he steps out again to finally cross the yard to the door.. again the picture of an obnoxious child passes across his mind's eye.. this one will stop consorting with the get of the Enemy.. how easy it seems to be for one to mistake being likable with being on the side of the righteous.. fools... He knocks, rather than ring the bell.*

Myles Jordan: "So, you'll keep me off the street if I keep this place warded?" He rolls his shoulders, and then turns around to look at her other weapons. He doesn't back the epee in his hand back yet though.

Myles Jordan: (doesn't _put_ back)

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: 2,8,5,10,

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: That will depend entirely on your discretion sir. *she murmers, delicate brow pinching. a pale gloved hand flicks up to tuck at a strand of mussy hair. no use really. had that been a car motor she'd heard?* You understand

Myles Jordan: "I understand, Miss Randelle." His back is now to her as he sets the epee back in place.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Then has the presence of mind to check his watch. No, the woman was not inexhaustible in her duties.. he rings the bell, providing ample time for the ~highly~ disgruntled maid to make her way back toward the door ~again~.. this time.. the nearly invisible scowl.. and a hint of worry in place before she inquires as to the identity of the next lout to mar her fresh coat of finish on the floor.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *the doorbell rings and she almost starts. looking to Myles. that had better NOT be a technocrat.. though she highly doubts they'd ring the bell. the girl moves towards the window, an eye on the hermetic as she looks out quickly*

Myles Jordan: 6,6,8,

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Disgruntled, but indeed dilligent as well- the put upon maid delaaaaaays as long as she is able in allowing the severe magyar entry.. once the door does finally open, a brief and false apology given for the sticking lock.. it trips a time or two as mily pale eyes only bore into the woman... never lose temper with the help.. the creatures never remember their place forever after. He reminds himself twice before moving, a muscle in his jaw twitching slightly as he passes her his overcoat with a single, firm flick.* Fix it, Maria..

Myles Jordan: He inspects the mace.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *suv... oh. a purse of lips as she looks to Myles* I suggest you ward sir, so we may conclude our discussion. *she points atthe mace with the epee* Do put that down please.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The distinctive rumble of his voice boils through the entry hall as he makes his way toward the library, intent upon some more study of this obnoxious mythology some primate has convinced Silkie to spout these days. Cretinous sheep.. had they only never been allowed to forget their betters, they would have not time for such ridiculous fables. The firm click of bootheels against marble as he passes.*

Myles Jordan: He puts the mace down. "It takes time. Hours of work. Starting tomorrow after a good night's rest would be the safest. Would that be a hastle?"

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He does pause to wonder briefly if Abbey would even posess a copy of the bible.. he recalls it as a rather boring read.. he turns, making his way toward the stairs.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *her eyes flicker a moment. no warding meant no verification of who he was, as she apparently couldn't say his name until it was warded. she looks mutedly displeased*

Myles Jordan: He turns back around and starts to slowly walk back toward her, shrugging questioningly.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *ooh. not too close. the blade raises at his approach* I think that it may indeed, be a hassle. Sir.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *The sound of footsteps on the stairs.*

Myles Jordan: He frowns, ~french~ "Why?"

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: So I might confirm whom you are before allowing your further presence *she keeps the blade pointed*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((DD?)) *The door swings open smoothly as Ingvar steps inside.. the look on his face passing from quiet introspection and the preperation to ask a question.. to something entirely different.. coldly attractive features swiveling between the two as pale eyes skate down the tip of the epee toward Myles.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: this would require your warding to be immediate. Hence, a hassle

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Perhaps you might sleep elsewhere?

Myles Jordan: He turns around sharply on a heel and starts to walk away, and his hands go deep into his pockets.

Myles Jordan: He stands confidently, with a hint of a smile on his lips. His face is tanned from the sun, so he probably works outdoors. He's wearing a white jean jacket with stains of dirt and grime that won't wash out, worn blue jeans with faded knees and shins, new red and grey sneakers, grey socks. He's around six feet tall, with short cropped ginger red hair, bleach blond highlights, bright green eyes, with a thin face. The man might be around twenty-six, and in the prime of his life. He is extremely good looking, and his ass is amazingly sexy.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *her eyes widen slightly. hopefully that came out in french. a purse of lips as she looks to ingvar* Good Morning. *her eyes and the blade track Myles. wary, but no longer on "kill"*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *His eyes glaze slowly, one raven eyebrow arching slowly up his head as stark features travel back toward Abbey slowly.. did she just say...*

Myles Jordan: He looks over his shoulder at the new man in the room, and then turns to look at the weapons rack again. ~french~ "Fine, I can a small one now, and a stronger one tomorrow."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *abbey's suddenly tense as assassin's wire. oh dear god. that was english. it was. she inclines her head to Myles murmering softly* that would be appropriate sir.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *An odd young man, though attractive in that self posessed eastern european way. Ingvar cuts a figure almost impossible to ignore- more through the severity of his presence than any particulars of face or form.. shadows haunt the hard planes of a stark, but coldly attractive face and lend him more gravity than the powerful but slender features of his shape would indicate. Long black hair and pale green eyes that seem to blink only seldom and carry a quiet, feral intensity few chose to regard for long, and a distant but provocative promise of easy cruelty. The man carries the waiting brutality of a hammer clothed in exquisite style*.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: 4,4,7,4,3,7,

Myles Jordan: He's still holding that black book in his left hand.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He only stares at the woman for a second, before deciding he certainly might be able to propose another place to sleep. One well manicured hand rises to smooth an eyebrow as the other dips into his jacket, withdrawing a sleek, silenced firearm and chambering a round. With smooth precision he raises it at Myles with the aplomb of a man studying a painting.*

Myles Jordan: 8,5,6,

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Ingvar. *her voice is quiet* Please. this is not at all as it appears to be. He is an associate of mine.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: (we needing to roll init boys?)

Myles Jordan: "Sir, I would not do that." The voice is grainy and seasoned, and the man is looking at Ing from the reflection of the dagger he is tilting with a hand. "Let's me introduce myself first, at least."

Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((no no- Ingvar's in that crazyman daze. going last if there even ~is~ an init. Its just the sleeping somewhere else thing was too good a line to waste.*L*))

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *her lips purse slightly as she moves towards the door, and Ingvar* Sir. do put that down, please. *grey eyes flick to the tall lord.* Your weapon as well Ingvar. All will be clear in a moment.

Myles Jordan: He lets the dagger roll back into place on the rack.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Jaw muscles bunch for a moment, though it doesn't seem as though he even gets a spike in bloodpressure. Even pointing a gun he seems an eerie, but very courteous gentleman.* By all means sir... please do. *His voice rumbles vibrantly through the air* If this is so.. why does his presence draw the need for a sword?

Myles Jordan: He grins at that. "Because I haven't fulfilled my part of the deal yet. I am Miss Randelle's personal Warder. Good morning, Sir."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: It is very complicated. *she murmers, looking to Myles. dear god man don't be a smartass for once* Perhaps you would be more comfortable on the loveseat Ingvar? *she gestures with her free hand, ever the polite hostess*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He looks between the two of them, that odd glaze flickering only slowly from his eyes. Never one given to outright rudeness, the severe man safeties the pistol and slides it back under the very tasteful jacket.* And to you, sir.. *pale eyes linger a moment, then flick in stoney silence toward Abbey.* I trust sleeping arrangements are of no further issue?

Myles Jordan: "Everything will be explained in one minute." He slowly steps onto the white wool carpet, and stands in the center with purpose.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *if she sneezed.. she might shatter, held too tense for sudden movement to seem conceivable, despite this a slight inclination of her head* We will see to such in a moment sir. *she murmers, a lurch in her stomach at Ing's eyes on her. a narrowing of eyes. her chin takes a defiant tilt to it*

Myles Jordan: 3,4,6,

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *In between words that thrum through the room with a commanding and echoing grace, from time to time jaw muscles still flex, though he doesn't seem aware. Slowly something in the man begins to uncoil.*

Myles Jordan: Myles watches the interplay between Abbey and Ingvar. "Now, this will be a rough job, but it will do for a bit."

Myles Jordan: He takes a wide stance, and balls his tanned hands into fists. He unfocuses his eyes, staring straight forward at a far wall, and starts to chant in a strange language.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He clasps powerful hands behind his back, looking from one to the other, as casually regal as though they had been discussing the weather.*

Myles Jordan: 4,2,10,2,7,2,8,

Myles Jordan: 9,5,6,

Myles Jordan: 5,4,3,

Myles Jordan: 1,3,6,

Myles Jordan: ((Awareness if you want)) He stops rambling. And it was rambling, because he couldn't seem to find his focus, especially at the end there. Oh well. It'll last for a bit. He sighs, and then shrugs at the couple by the door. "Done."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *abbey watches Myles, sword flicking dangerously close to Ingvar's leg a moment as it speaks of agitation that a Pale girl doesn't outwardly show, other hand set at her side lightly*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: 2,1,10,

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: (what? magic?)

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Nostrils flare for a moment as Abbey recieves a certain and proprietary attention, if discreetly so. When Myles begins to chant, a subtle but telling change sweeps the young Lord. Milky eyes widen only a fraction, then begin to sweep the air around the other man- finally focusing with singular intensity against him.. entirely absorbed in what he is doing.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Perfect *she murmers inclining her head to Myles* Now sir. might you provide your name?

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: 5,9,9,

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He does not seem to notice the sword's elegant jaunt so near his person, as though completely confident he is in no danger. Severe features cant slightly as he listens to the language... looking for any sign the man may be like her. He sees nothing himself, but yet remains quite fascinated, if distantly so.*

Myles Jordan: He slowly starts to walk towards Ingvar and Abbey, and shrugs, "Once known as Travis Kennedy, now known as Myles Jordan for reasons Abbey is probably aware of." He bows a little toward the man, but the bow is sloppy. "How do you do, Sir."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *a murmer in french under her breath.. yes. that verifys it. a slight nod* Mr. .. Jordan, is it now? A pleasure. I regret the unpleasantness of earlier. I trust you understand?

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she looks to Ingvar. the man would likely prefer to introduce himself. after all. what would she introduce him as? her boyfriend? tawdry. Her fiance? no.. she.. no. best to let him introduce himself*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Pale eyes slip across the man as he bows slightly in return, his own crisp, seemingly ingrained in his person.* A pleasure, Mr. Jordan. I am Ingvar Urgahaldt.

Myles Jordan: A respectful nod, "I understand, Miss Randelle. And Sir, it is an honour to meet you." He walks to stand about 2 meters away from them.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *a slight purse of lips as she looks between the two men. she murmers* Gentleman, perhaps you might be seated?

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *A slight cant of his head, as though accustomed to accepting such in grace and silence.* I trust.. all is warded, now? *He waves one powerful, manicured hand* might I inquire as to how. *He looks between them, politely.*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: Certainly madam. *He gestures with distant decorum toward a seat for Mr. Jordan and lowers himself smoothly onto one of the loveseats, his clothing and form arranged with deft skill, draping one leg over the other.*

Myles Jordan: A wide grin, "This room is warded against scrying, Mr. Urgahaldt." As if that answered the question. He twists around and strides toward a white loveseat, and thinks about sitting down. He removes his dirty jacket first, then takes a seat.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *damnit. abbey's the only one not dressed appropriately, silken pajamas smoothed with a small hand as she glides to sit beside Ingvar, epee laid at her feet as she folds her hands delicately in her lap, tenseness slipping slowly from her frame, a polite curl of lips as Myles takes off the dirty jacket*

Myles Jordan: He folds his leg over the other, just like Ingvar, but it's more of a slide than a drap. The man's tanned skin stands out against the white of the upholstery.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: How is it you are so changed, Mr. Kennedy? I regret the chilly reception however, you do not appear yourself. *she murmers quietly*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He cants his head slightly, as though sharing Abbey's question as a matter of polite interest.*

Myles Jordan: "Mister Jordan is fine, Miss Randelle. I've changed, I admit." His voice is grainy and rough.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Of course Mr. Jordan. Forgive me. *she makes a slight dismissive gesture with her hand* How long do you intend on occupying the guest house, sir?

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *All the while tasting the definition of "scrying" over and over in his head.. breaking it down by syntax, usage.. finding applicable definitions in this case..*

Myles Jordan: "As long as it takes for me to start my new life is the current plan, although as long as I stay here I will keep the grounds warded."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *she considers a moment, regarding Ingvar breifly before murmering* Yes. I think such is acceptable. Is It not possible to ward something with any sort of permanance, Mr. Jordan?

Myles Jordan: "Not right now. We can discus something of that nature tomorrow perhaps?" He examines Ingvar.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Pale eyes slide to Abbey, considering a moment. As such as wards or accoutrements of their craft are discussed, the young man follows with the careful, but polite consideration of one truly interested.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Of course. *she rises in one fluid motion and moves to a bookshelf, crouching and opening the bottom cabinet part and withdrawing a paper from a folder* Have you Identification Sir. authenitic or otherwise?

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He cants an eyebrow slightly, frosting around the edges as he's looked over so thuroughly.*

Myles Jordan: "None. I destroyed it all. Would either of you have the ability to procure something of that sort?"

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He shakes his head slightly.* Not at all. Time would be an element, depending on what precisely you wanted in the way of credentials to support the background. *He pinches a bit of nothing from a sleeve.* However.. in return, rather than payment, I would ask for more thurough information about what exactly has transpired today, yes? *the faint flavor of a slavic accent*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((Edit to "Not a problem at all"))

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *an eyebrow raises at Ingvar, bringing back a peice of paper and handing it to Myles, before sitting down*

Myles Jordan: He slides his foot from atop his knee back to the ground and takes the piece of paper. "That seems like a fair exchange, Mister Urgahaldt."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *its a confidentiality agreement. obviously the reason she inquired as to his ID. basically says.. while in employ of miss randelle what transpires while in her employ remains confidential. (barring illegal activity bla bla bla tricky tricky legalese... ) *

Myles Jordan: Myles begins to read the document, smiling as he does so.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He nods slightly, distantly pleased, it would seem. strong fingers lace in his lap as he continues to regard the two of them.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *a slight quirk of lips as she regards Ingvar, then Myles. Perhaps she would start casting ring of truth at every gathering. It rather simplifies things. she murmers* Perhaps tommorrow. Mr. Jordan. Once you are settled into the guest house we shall discuss such things further?

Myles Jordan: He hands the document back to Abbey, "Yes, that seems acceptable. I will sign it tomorrow pending the completion of the wards, and the condition of the guest house."

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: Of course. *she inclines her head, taking the contract back and rising* If that is all sir, Maria would be pleased to show you to your accomadations.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Pale eyes flicker to his watch- discreet enough to avoid giving an ill impression. Pointing a gun at the man is one thing. Mild enough, a bit off the cuff, but plain. Being untoward as a host though... disgusting.*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He rises with the pair of them, canting his head slightly to Mr. Jordan.* Again, a pleasure. Have a good day, Mr. Jordan.

Myles Jordan: He stands up and grabs his jacket from the floor beside the loveseat, and then walks over to the weapons rack to collect his black book. "Thank you, Miss Randelle, Mister Urgahadlt." He walks towards the exit, and as he does so, he lifts the effect on the room. He walks out the open door and closes it behind him.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *abbey glides to the door and locks it. Confident the maid is pretending to dust something nearby anyway, and knows her duties.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *once the door is firmly locked she turns her attention to Ingvar, grey eyes finding his. A quirk of an eyebrow*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *Pale eyes follow the man out the door, lingering against the grain for a moment before slipping back to the willowy creature.* An.. interesting man. What is a "Warder" in the willworking sense? *His gaze travels with keen interest around the room for a moment.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: A gentleman who provides protection through will. *she murmers, eyes growing cooler by the moment*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *His attention seems to find a middle distance for a moment, but returns to more pressing matters almost immediately.* Were you in danger? *a flick of green to the epee on the floor.*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: I had to be certain it was he I was indeed Speaking to. He is quite changed. I took no chances Sir. *she regards him a moment and murmers* What was it you thought upon arriving sir. I do regret you finding him thusly.

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He purses lips slightly, considering her question as he adjusts one cuff.* Yes.. you see.. "thought" is not exactly what one would call it. Most immediately, I thought him some sort of intruder intent upon doing you harm. Maria delaying my entry rather confused my perception of things, however. I suppose the most concise way to put it remains that he was near you.. and you seemed to have been alone in your defense. *pale eyes travel her face for a moment.. so precious a creature..*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *after a moments consideration she nods. silently she moves across the room, scooping up her epee and circling gracefully to the weapons rack to place it in its appointed spot, before she moves to Ingvars side, slipping off her gloves and folding them in her hands, bruising darkening somewhat*

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: .. Maria delayed your entry? *as though it just processed through*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *His head turns slightly of its own accord, nostrils flaring again. The rise of grapefruit to his nose untainted by blood or fear seems to soothe something the Magyar remains only partially aware of, emotion yet roughly as comfortable as a live cobra under his clothing. One powerful hand settles under one of hers, raising it slightly as he looks at the pale fingers held in his palm as though trying to divine future from tea leaves.* You would like to retire?

Ingvar Urgahaldt: Indeed she did. The woman grows ill mannered. Forgets her station too readily.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: She will be seen to. *a downward tug of lips. yes. uppity and conniving that maid. too valuable in discretion to be dismissed however. threatened.. yes. dismissed? no. abbey exhales softly and looks up to The dark hungarian holding a pale white hand in his own* Retiring would be pleasant Sir. Yes.

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: *her other hand gives her gloves a precise toss, landing them on the arm of the loveseat, to be dealt with in the morning.. well. later in the morning*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: *He nods, pale eyes slipping up the arm to the woman, a muted sort of regard showing in his eyes for a moment.*

Ingvar Urgahaldt: ((ftb?))

Abbey Randelle {Randelle Manor}: (ftb!)