Okay folks, the (pathetic excuse for a) second act is out. YOU ALL HAVE PERMISSION TO KILL ME FOR TAKING SO LONG. I know you don't care about my excuses, but since the last chapter, my life suddenly decided to be "exciting." I've been running around all month, busy. It's shocking...

Plus I've been sort of lost as to what to do with the story. This chapter is short. But I decided to just put up what I've done so far, so as to not look like I died. I proooomise I'll be writing from now on, everyday.

Gah, I realized I spelled Merriweather's name wrong last chapter.

Act II--

"Big Brother! Ha, I knew it, you were at the library! You only go there to scheme, you know, I'm onto you! Tell me!"

Cain had only said "hello Merriweather," and already he was bombarded with suspicion. Riff smiled at the child's fiery personality and took Cain's cape and cane. Cain took his hat off his head and placed it on Merriweather's. She looked up with an indignant pout from beneath the rim.

"It's a secret between adults," he winked at her, "how was the play? Did Oscar act like a gentleman?" He threw Oscar a menacing smile. Merriweather didn't fall for it. "Don't change the subject dearest brother," that time with a bit of sarcasm, "I hate when you leave me in the dark." Oscar beamed, "and I love it!" Merriweather turned and kicked the older man in the shin.

While Oscar was writhing on the ground, Cain slipped past the room's occupants and into the foyer hallway. Riff took care of Oscar and Merri's shoes and followed his master into the Piano room. Cain quite literally plopped himself into a green velvet armchair and rested his cheek on an upright fist. To his guests, it merely looked as if Cain were bored, or running low on patience (the latter would not be entirely false). But for the one who always fetched the Acetylsalicylic acid (the newest pain-alleviating substance that Cain insisted on getting his hands on, despite the cost), Riff knew better. Cain was developing a headache.

Merri and Oscar joined the two in the piano room and sat on the couch, waiting for Cain to explain his day's excursion. Cain merely massaged his temples and gave a warning glance to Riff; it read, "get-me-my-pain-killers-now-or-I'll-cut-your-paycheck."

"Lady Merriweather, would you mind helping me retrieve something for Master Cain?" Riff decided to chance trying to interpret Cain's body language. Merri looked once at Cain and then to Riff. "Of course, Riff!" He chanced a look at his master, and found that he had been given a grateful look of appreciation.

Riff took Merri up to the medicine room.

"Oscar, can I ask you of something again?" Cain didn't bother to change his posture into something more presentable.

"You want me to take care of beautiful Merri again? You can count on—" He was cut off by Cain's glare. "Oscar, I wish you'd at least pretend to take this seriously. Merri is one of the few precious things left I have. I'm going on a trip to the country to obtain a substance that might change the course of current events…" Cain trailed off, looking quixotic. Oscar grumbled, "If you don't trust me than why not just leaver her with Riff?" Cain snapped back into the conversation and instinctually replied, "Riff is coming with me."

"Man, you really do everything together, don't you? Your wife's going to be jealous, if you ever find one," Oscar laughed.

Cain was not amused.

"Is that what you think of women, Oscar? Objects to be found?" Of course, Cain knew that wasn't the way Oscar was; he was truly chivalrous. Cain knew his bitterness was misplaced. He really was bothered by what his friend had said.

Oscar made himself very small in the fabric of the couch. "I'm sorry Oscar, never mind. I just need you to watch over my sister for a week, at most. You know the rules, all provisions in effect." Oscar dutifully replied, "by heart, sir," and grinned widely and bowed with what anyone but Cain would see as flamboyant mockery.

After Merri and Riff returned, Merri now concerned for the health of her brother, Cain bid farewell to Oscar, and goodnight to Merri. (He tucked her in, as usual, along with her endless collection of dolls that threatened to overpopulate every inch of her room.)

Cain blew out the last candle which allowed Cain to see the rapidly falling eyelids of his half-sister. He walked down the silent corridor, the long strip of velvet carpeting muffling what would be the loud clapping of his soles. He loved walking through his manor after the servants had retired for the night. He allowed them unusually lengthy nights to themselves, because—truth be told—he only needed one person to take care of him. The rest were a careless show of wealth, of which he despised and his relatives loved.

Cain opened the door to his room. So striking was the darkness, he was almost blinded by it, which prompted the thought: if beasts know only light—pure, unobstructed light—and one day happen upon darkness, would it seem to them as coveted a phenomenon, as the sun is to humans? It seemed to Cain he was beastly, created and molded in nothing but the light of wealth, the sun of fortune. Would he have remained a beast, had not his loyal servant been waiting for him in the dark?

"Uhm M-milord… I," Riff fumbled as he lit the first candle, the point of light cut through the darkness like a white-hot blade. Cain had walked across his threshold. "I had some…trouble finding the matches."

Cain removed the glove from his hand and with a fluid gesture the suggested both refinement and corruption, he snuffed the flame between two fingers. "M-master," Riff barely managed to breathe, as Riff's arm slid behind the back of his neck, and his ungloved hand reached up to hold the older man's cheek. "You're so foolish Riff," Cain exhaled against his servant's neck, elevating himself up with his toes, "I'm too sensitive to light."

Riff shivered, and the enticing comfort of darkness embraced them both.

Cain awoke, groggy. Riff was above him, of course, already having prepared his morning chamomile tea and soda bread. "Milord, I know last night I didn't, er, have time to ask you but,"

Cain shot him an aggravated look. Riff rephrased, "Simply, you had me prepare a coach, but I still do not know our destination or purpose."

"Riff, fetch me my finest countrywear," Cain all but smirked. Riff sputtered. "Milord, surely you are aware that we do not have the necessary equipment—" Cain cut him off, "Riff, it won't be like last time, I promise," he gave him his best I'll-Behave look, "and I swear, we're only visiting a friend I know… and acquaintance." Cain made a face at the word "friend."

Riff looked uneasy for a few seconds but quickly righted himself. "Milord, we leave by midday."

--

Again, I'm so sorry!