It is annoying how things so often play out not according to plan. It is equally annoying how one can reach the wrong conclusion entirely. In a perfect world, 'a word about the conservation of natural species' shouldnot evolve into 'Tomorrow then, I know this lovely Cafe just outside of Hyde Park.'
But, Ernst had to accepted that tomorrow had become today, entirely too quickly, and he was lacking in the proper attire. Any proper jackets he had given to the young prince to tailor during the escapades in New York, and his raggedy suit was…unacceptable.
While flipping through the shirts in his closet he wondered why he had cared so much. It was simply a conversation between two adults concerned about natural wildlife in Austria. No need to put on a show.
But with Doctor Nora Darwin Barlow, such was always a show. No doubt she would be wrapped up in her ribbons and lace, her abomination sitting elegantly on her shoulder. She would say nothing of his subpar appearance of course, at least not at first, but her brows would rise and the topic would sway to his income, the prospect of raising it, and finally, how horrendous he looked and how she was positively mortified to be seen in his company.
There was no chance in asking the young prince for attire, he was in a similar condition, and would wriggle his eyebrows insufferably at him if he mentioned what the clothes were for. The boy had become a bit of a romantic since his…agreement with Miss Sharp.
With a sigh Ernst realized that his only hope was to plea assistance from a neighbor in his apartment building. Mr. Comstock had a similar stature, and his wife was the sort who would be charitable in an old man's state of distress.
It ended up being three jackets that the Comstocks could spare, and Mrs. Comstock would have given him more if not for his hasty escape. Each jacket had the aroma of old books and dusty libraries, but Ernst managed to pick one appropriate for his outing.
The establishment the Lady Boffin had mentioned was no more a café than a hotel was an inn. Looking at the smartly dressed servers with their white gloves and the elegantly drawn menu sitting by the gate, the Count felt as if he might have taken Mrs. Comstock up on her offer for a fancier outfit. As he approached the counter, the maître d' looked up from his desk and glared down his nose.
"A table for two," Volger said, straightening his spine as if to salute.
"I am afraid we are booked sir," He announced, "Might I suggest a later reservation? The lowest wait is about forty minutes."
'For a café?' Ernst wondered, aghast. He was about to turn away, wondering how to contact the Lady Boffin when a gloved hand waved to him from inside. Naturally she had arrived first, regardless of what was proper.
"I believe I do have a reservation," Volger answered, "Under the name Barlow?"
The man looked down to flip through some papers, then beckoned to a server.
As Ernst was lead through the elegant array of potted plants, tables, and ornate metal chairs, he did not see a single animal or abomination in the mix. There was a fountain where a few goldfish swam gracefully, but the café was absent of the squaks and chirps he had believed all Darwinist establishments had. The only noise was that of the violins being played in a corner. As he reached the table, he noted the Lady Boffin's two most prized companions, her loris and her Thylacine, were absent as well. She gave him a slight smile and thanked the waiter graciously.
"So good of you to come," Nora said, looking down at her paper menu, "And well dressed, if I might add."
"I manage," he said simply, looking down at his own menu.
"It is so rare to see you and young Mr. Hohenburg in appropriate attire, I have debated raising your wages." She flipped the menu back onto the table, "Would you say your current salary is sufficient? Can you afford proper housing? Food?"
If Ernst was the sort to blush, those words might have done it.
"Might I remind you of the purpose of this meeting?" he asked, placing his own menu on the table as he did so.
"But of course," she smiled, "But I am your employer, and your livelihood is amongst my interests."
"Naturally," the Count responded, "But I have reason to believe that the last attack on Austrian soil has left some…unfortunate results."
The Lady Boffin raised an eyebrow.
"What results exactly, Count?"
Volger straightened, the argument he had planned last night finally of use. "The problem lies with those bats, those metal-eating-"
"Flechette bats," Doctor Barlow corrected.
"Yes, Flechette bats," Volger grimaced at the thought of them, "As you well know Darwinism is a messier form of weaponry, and thus, there are often repercussions that you may not foresee. The fact of the matter is that while most of the bats you send out make their way back to the airships, a great deal do not get the signal, or are lost to the winds, and scatter into nearby forests."
The Lady Boffin nodded.
"Then proceed to interbreed with the natural inhabitants, creating hybrids that may prove harmful to the species."
"Precisely." Ernst agreed, "And these bats will eventually find their way to agricultural machines and create problems for farmers as well."
For a moment Doctor Barlow was silent, "But of course this a problem," she finally announced, "But how do you suppose we fix it?"
The Wild Count had thought of this as well. "It seems a simple solution, keep the bats from flying any lower than a certain altitude."
"Ah but land machines can attack an air beast just as effectively as an aero plane," The Boffin said, "And one of the greatest weapons an air beast possesses is the Flechette bat."
Volger admitted he had not thought of that, but was saved by the appearance of a waiter, asking for their order. Having not looked over the menu himself, Volger looked to the Lady Boffin.
"A pot of earl grey," she said simply, "And perhaps a tray of cakes," she turned to Volger, "Or would you prefer sandwiches?"
"I have no preference," Volger remarked.
"Cakes it is then," Doctor Barlow said cheerfully. A bit too cheerful, Ernst noted.
When the waiter left, the Lady Boffin caught the Count's eye. She raised her hands in a mock surrender.
"I admit to my sweet tooth, if that is what you are smirking about," she said.
Ernst realized that he was indeed smirking.
"We all have our guilty pleasures," he admitted.
The Lady Boffin's face lit up.
"Implying that you are under the influence of one as well?" The woman leaned back, staring down her nose at him with a playful smile on her lips.
Count Ernst Volger should have said something along the lines of 'we should get back on topic, but he felt his own lips curl into a bashful smile.
"Cats," he said simply, "Or to be more precise, infant cats."
For a moment the Lady Boffin's face remained unchanged, as if she had assumed such a thing all along, but then her composure broke and she let out a laugh, pressing her laced fingers to her lips in a futile attempt to school herself.
Volger raised an eyebrow, still smiling, "Does my appreciation for felines amuse you?" He asked.
"Of course not," Doctor Barlow said, her face falling back into its indifferent expression, "Simply unexpected."
Again they were interrupted by the arrival of their food. The waiter set two beautifully designed cups on the table along with a simple white pot and a three-layer tray stacked with colorful pastries.
"Would you consider ownership of a cat now that you aren't gallivanting across Europe?" she asked as she delicately plucked a raspberry tart from the tray.
"I suppose so," Ernst chuckled, helping himself to a chocolate biscuit, "At the moment I could use the company."
"And here I thought my company was enough," The Lady Boffin sighed, "Might I grow ears and a tail to better suit you?"
By this point Volger did not even try to conceal his amusement. The thought brought up quite an image in his head.
"Care to elaborate what you find so amusing?" Doctor Barlow took a sip of her tea.
"Only the idea of you as a cat," he admitted, "I'm sure you would be a most insufferable creature.
Again the woman laughed.
"I'm sure I would," she said.
The outing continued this way. The Doctor insisted upon being called 'Nora' and in return the Count allowed himself to be addressed as 'Ernst'. Once the teapot had been refilled and emptied, and the tray left bare, the two agreed that such outings were a pleasant relief from the daily turmoil of London politics. After settling the time for their meeting the following week, Ernst offered to take his companion back to her apartments, an offer Nora graciously accepted. The topic of flechette bats in the wilderness of Austria was not brought up again for the remainder of the evening.