Nothing really to say here this time...maybe next time I'll have something...Read and review, please!
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Chapter 13. 4 months later. (2 years before The Great Game.)
Devon folded her hands politely in front of her, fixing her eyes straight ahead as Jim did business with a woman known as Irene. Irene, her assistant, and Jim were all sitting, while Devon was forced to stand just behind Jim's chair. She'd been standing in ungodly uncomfortable heels for more than an hour, waiting for Jim to let her leave.
Irene's assistant kept shooting worried glances at Devon, and finally spoke up, "Mister Moriarty, do you think your assistant would be more comfortable sitting rather than standing?"
"She's fine, darling. Don't worry about her." Irene said as she waved a hand in front of her assistant's face, "You're not here to worry about a little girl." Devon fought the urge to slap Irene, instead pinching the side of her left palm to distract herself from the comment.
"Devon, can you collect the tea things?" Jim looked at her expectantly. She glanced down at the ridiculous Louis-somethings shoes and back up at Jim, barely hiding her panic, "Devon." He repeated, gesturing impatiently at the tea things.
"Sorry…Jim." She wobbled forward and collected the tea things, then wobbled to the door, setting the tray down heavily on a rolling cart for the butler to move. She took a breath and looked at herself in one of the giant mirrors lining the entry hall.
Jim had dragged her into London three months after her birthday, the first time she'd been allowed out of the small town Jim's safe house had been built near. She'd been allowed flats for the first three meetings, but this one, Jim had set the shoes on the floor and told her to stand in them until he told her otherwise.
She inspected her face a little closer, noticing the shadows under her eyes that had been there for years before were gone.
She tottered back into the room and stood just behind Jim's shoulder, glaring at the short Irish man.
"So you need me to get some photos. I can do that, darling, but it'll cost you." Irene stood up, draping her coat over one arm. Her assistant stood as well and gave Devon an apologetic smile.
"What will it cost?" Jim stood as well, matching Irene's cat-got-the-canary smile.
"I'll decide that later." Irene sighed, "Kate, let's go." Kate followed Irene from the room and Jim turned to stare at Devon.
"Well?" He asked, "You look like you want to say something."
"What the heh…" Devon bit her tongue, keeping her temper in check, "How do you expect me to wear these things?" She gestured at her feet, "These aren't gonna work out."
"Learn to." Jim snarled at her, "You'll need to get used to them."
"You get to wear Gucci. That I can pronounce. But these...Louvou-whatever shoes are insane."
"It's only 12 centimeters." Jim tried to reassure her. Devon slid her feet out of the shoes and tossed them across the room.
"Get me shorter heels or I'll take off." She snarled and stalked past him for the hall.
"Devon!" Jim shouted after her as he collected the shoes, "Devon!" He found her staring out the window at someone, "Devon, that is none of your business. Now, you have some business that needs taken care of, don't you?" She turned from the window. Jim walked over and put a hand to her cheek, glancing out the window at the tall, skinny man walking by in a long black coat and blue scarf.
"No…I don't think so." Devon said, her eyes following the man as well.
"Those papers I wanted?"
"Done last night." Devon rolled her eyes.
"Everything?" Jim pinched her chin so she was looking at him.
"Other than professional photos. I made up articles, résumés, references, the whole lot."
"Such a good girl." Jim patted Devon's head. They both heard a siren followed shortly by a hair-raising howl from upstairs, "The dog." Jim levelled a stern gaze at her, "That thing needs to be taught to shut up."
"It's the sirens." Devon replied, "I'll go calm him down." She ran from the room, "Ichabod! Stop it! Stop! It's gone!" Her door opened and slammed shut, and the howling stopped.
Jim looked back out the window at the man in the coat and scarf. He'd stopped to look up at the house when the dog had begun howling, but when he saw Jim watching him, the man turned and walked away, his coat billowing behind him.