A/N: I like Margot's drunkness. It makes me giggle. I don't own some of these characters.
Meanwhile…
"Heh heh…the moonlight looks lovely toniiiight." Margot slurred, tripping over the hem of her dress. Brom, who thankfully was blessed with quick reflexes, caught her.
"Margot, how many glasses of wine did you drink?" Brom asked.
"One." She hiccupped.
"Just one?" he replied skeptically.
"Er…maybe two." Margot said, swaying, "Wait, wait…make that four."
"Four?!" he exclaimed.
"Is there an echo out here or something?" she let out an obnoxiously loud bark of laughter, apparently thinking she was beyond witty, "My inhibitions are out the window!"
"Oh God in Heaven…" Brom groaned, "You need to go home. Now."
"That would be pleasant." Margot said, grinning up at him.
In the Van Tassel house…
Krista awoke at 7 in the morning, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. The party had dragged on until at least 2 AM, and she had to clean every last inch of the house afterwards. She stood up slowly, and stretched her arms, yawning.
"Wake up, Krista." She said to herself, "You can do it."
She went to her wardrobe, and pulled out her uniform. She honestly didn't mind wearing it. Unlike other maids, Krista had a very pleasing figure. The outfit accentuated her tiny waist, comely hips, and generous bosom that she had attained over puberty. She pulled on her black slippers, and combed her blonde curls to perfection. A little blush on her cheeks and she was ready and raring (well, not quite) to go.
She quietly went down the stairs and into the kitchen to start breakfast for the family. She was well into making eggs when she heard a small noise behind her. She put down the egg she was about to crack, and peered into the dining room. Ichabod was sitting at the table, reading a leather-bound notebook.
"Good morning, Mr. Crane." She greeted him as cheerfully as she could.
"Good morning to you, as well, Krista." He replied, closing his notebook, "Why are you up this early?"
"I could ask you the same question." She teased, "As you can see, I have to make breakfast. Master Van Tassel is usually quite ravenous after a good night's rest."
He stood up, "Do you need any assistance? I've cooked for myself for many years."
"No, no, no." she shook her head, "Please, it is my duty to cook for the family and their guests. Please continue with whatever you were doing. I will not bother you anymore."
"Well, if you're absolutely sure…" he sat back down.
"Breakfast will be ready in another 15 minutes or so." Krista then disappeared back into the kitchen. She went into the pantry to fetch a container of milk and a bag of flour.
When she arrived back in the kitchen, Ichabod was there.
"Mr. Crane, I told you I didn't need help. I insist." She said firmly, brushing past him to open the cabinet where they stored the glasses.
She reached for a glass on a higher shelf, and struggled a bit, because after all, she was quite short, and these cabinets happened to be made for taller people.
"And you do not need help now?" he asked, sounding amused.
"Alright, maybe I do. Can you please…?" she pointed up at the glass. He reached it with perfect ease, and handed it to her.
"Thank you very much." She began to pour milk into the glasses.
"You're welcome." He was silent for a long while, and Krista began to think he had left the room, but suddenly he said, "I don't like the way Mr. Van Tassel is treating you."
"What has given you reason to think that?" she inquired, setting the milk on the counter.
"He has a party way into the night, and then makes you clean everything." He ticked it off on his fingers, "He then expects you to get up and make breakfast. You have not even had the proper amount of sleep."
"I will be fine, Mr. Crane, there is no reason to worry about me. I do this often." She gave him a weary smile, "They pay me well, they feed me, clothe me, give me shelter…all they ask in return is that I tidy up a bit."
"Servitude isn't right." He persisted.
"Mr. Crane, this is my duty. Do you not have a duty as Constable in New York City? You are paid to do things that you sometimes do not wish to do. Is that not servitude?" Krista shot at him before she could stop herself.
Ichabod blinked a few times, "You're right. I never really thought of things that way."
There was a silence, but it was broken by Krista, "I apologize for contradicting you."
"And I apologize for quarreling with you." He said, "I am sort of prone to contradicting people myself. I deal with lawyers and judges often."
"Do you enjoy living in New York City?" Krista asked, going into the dining room.
He followed her, "Well, I've been there for quite a few years now. There is so much crime and cruelty, and it can be frightening at times, but it's home."
"This place must be a change for you, then." She said, "Nothing really that exciting happens here." When he gave her a skeptical look, she added quickly, "With the exception of the Headless Horseman business!"
"It's different, I'll give you that." He said with a nonchalant shrug, "But it's a good kind of different."
"Why would you say that?" Krista was curious.
Ichabod looked up at the ceiling, apparently in thought, "Well, the people are so much more interesting, so full of…" He caught her eye, "…mystery."
She flushed, looking down at the table and smoothing the tablecloth, "I see."
She gestured to the table, "Sit down. I will bring you breakfast."
"That isn't necessary. I'll get it." He began to go into the kitchen.
Krista was beginning to get exceedingly frustrated, "Mr. Crane, please! I am the maid; it is my job to serve you!" Without thinking, she grabbed his forearm to halt him.
He did stop, and he stared at her for a moment, "Alright."
She released her grip, and exhaled, "Thank you."
When she passed by him to enter the kitchen, he touched her shoulder lightly, "No, thank you, Krista."
She smiled, "My pleasure."
Ichabod removed his hand, and she caught a glimpse of it. It had many small, circular imprints embedded into his skin. It looked like it had initially been very painful. He saw her staring, and opened his mouth to explain. Unfortunately, he was interrupted by Baltus entering the dining room, shadowed by his wife and daughter.
"Good morning, all!" he greeted cheerfully.
"Good day to you, Van Tassels." Ichabod bowed.
"Is breakfast prepared, Krista?" Baltus turned to her.
She nodded, "Of course. Almost done, sir. It will be out soon."
She disappeared into the kitchen.
After breakfast had finished, Krista began to clean up. Mrs. Van Tassel and Katrina left, but not without Katrina giving the Constable a longing glance. Baltus stayed behind, and pulled Ichabod aside. Krista happened to overhear their conversation.
"Are you beginning your investigations today?" her master asked.
"Yes." Ichabod replied.
"Well, I think it would be helpful to acquire a horse, correct? You will need a quicker means of transportation than just yourself."
"That would be helpful." Mr. Crane said, "Who should I see about this?"
"Thomas Killian, he is the stable master of this town. You'll find him in his home down the way. He is married to the town midwife." Baltus explained.
"Thank you, Mr. Van Tassel. Your generous assistance is greatly appreciated." Ichabod bowed his head, "Good day to you."
"And to you, as well, Constable." Baltus returned the gesture, "Well, I must be off. Many things to do in so very little time."
"I couldn't agree more." Ichabod mused. Baltus then exited, leaving Ichabod and Krista alone in the dining room.
He turned to her, "Krista, I…"
"There is no need to explain if you don't wish to, Mr. Crane." Krista said quickly, "I should not have been staring. It was very impolite of me."
"There isn't much to explain, anyway." He looked down at his hands, "I don't even remember how I got them. I can't help feeling that the memory of their acquirement is something I've been repressing for a very long while."
She put down the rag she had been holding, and went over to him. She took his hand, and gazed down at it curiously.
Krista touched his palm gently, pressing her forefinger into one of the imprints, "I can't say I've ever seen anything like them." She looked up into his eyes, her nearly-grey a deep contrast his nearly-black, "Maybe it will come back to you someday."
"Yes." He said, sounding a little breathless, "Maybe."
He slowly pulled his hand away, "I'm afraid I must be going. I also have duties to attend to. I shall see you later."
"Good-bye!" she called as he left the room. She heard the front door close, and she said quietly to herself, "And please be careful."
