AN: Thanks for reading beautiful people.
I'm woken by a rough snort as the obese woman across from us startles awake. I push dregs of hair away from my face glancing around the stagecoach then out the window to see yet another dusty town. Brittany runs soft fingers up and down my arm, and I watch the buildings get bigger, and realise that we're not entering just another town but something more like a city. Tucson is so much bigger than Clothier or any other town we've passed through, and growing fast. The train reached this far south only a few months ago but I see dozens of new, brick and mortar buildings under construction.
Brittany takes a special interest in the great number of military men in town, pointing out the clusters of men in blue. "The company might be stationed at Fort Lowell soon," she comments, gravely. She's wearing a crisp brown suit now instead of blue, no longer one of those men. Stacie looks out the window but doesn't comment. We know it's a long way from here to San Francisco. A vast distance between us and Sam— and everyone else I know. We've travelled so many miles since leaving Clothier and the distance makes me worry for Quinn. If the company is stationed somewhere near Tucson and Rachel goes with them, then Quinn will be alone. Too alone, even with Kurt and the others.
Eventually our coach stops and Brittany opens the door. She bows as she guides out our travelling companion then grins like a loon when she offers her hand to me. It's only my second smile of the day.
"My Lady," she says tipping her head so she looks at me through blonde lashes.
My breath catches as I take the offered hand and she tugs me forward so I have no choice but to fall into her. She laughs and so do I as she catches me in a twirl that stirs my skirts. We dance, and smile, and Stacie scoffs. I couldn't be happier than I am here, with Brittany, my sun. She smiles that confident smile(three), squeezes at my hand then releases me.
I ache to pull her back to me but our silent driver lifts our luggage from coach to train platform and the moment passes. Just like much of the town we saw, the station looks new. The timbers and paint are fresh and the air of newness seems appropriate for our journey.
Brittany's abrupt laugh interrupts my thoughts. She says, "How do you own so many things, San?"
There are four cases on the platform and two of the largest are mine. Stacie laughs louder than the joke deserves.
— s — — b —
Brittany bites her lip to avoid laughing with Stacie since Santana is frowning in that tense, distracted way she has when she's worrying about something. Brittany knows that Santana has been thinking about Quinn. They've both been worried.
"Come on, let's find our car," Brittany picks up Santana's two cases along with her own bag. Santana is already carrying her hat-box and parasol, and Brittany doesn't want to make a fuss.
Their driver steps forward with a ticket printed in the South Pacific Transportation Company colours. Brittany moves forward but Stacie bounces ahead to take the ticket instead, flashing the bright smile which makes Brittany's stomach uneasy. She glances at Santana who's eyeing Stacie speculatively, her previous worry faded and replaced by a look she might have turned on Sugar. Her eyes say, you don't have a chance and Brittany feels happy to see it.
Brittany clears her throat, "Lead the way Stacie,"
Stacie beams, "Okay Brent," and skips ahead.
"Okay Brent," Santana mimics in a high voice tilting her head with wide eyes. "Do you need anything Brent?" She continues. "Oh, you're so funny Brent." She clasps her hands together in mock eagerness dragging out the last vowels, "So strong and brave."
Brittany frowns. "San, you should be nice, she doesn't know where her family is. We're all she has right now."
Santana's smile dims turning to follow the younger girl, trusting Brittany is right.
— s — — b —
They find their car is much roomier than in the last leg of their journey. Brittany swings Santana's two cases and her own into the overhead storage then takes off her coat to hang on a hook by the door. She knows Santana is watching the muscles in her forearms flex as she rolls up her sleeves, and slows to enjoy the heat of her gaze. She knows how much Santana likes her arms, likes to lay back and watch her cleaning her gun or lifting cases of bottles behind the bar. Or even better, using those arms to hold their bodies close, Santana pressing the back of Brittany's hand and feeling her muscles flex when she's pressing down between them.
Brittany would like very much to be naked now. Santana says nothing, smirking at the look in Brittany's eyes.
"Here Brent," Stacie interrupts their staring, oblivious. "You're so much stronger than me." She hands Brittany her case. "I'll bet you could lift my whole body up into the storage if you wanted to."
Brittany coughs to smooth over the fact she'd forgotten Stacie was there. "Maybe. Your case is a bit lighter though."
Stacie steps closer to Brittany than is necessary and makes sure their fingers brush as she hands over the bag. "However can I thank you?" She looks up through her eyelashes in a way Brittany imagines some could find appealing.
"Don't mention it," Brittany says, tone serious. "Really," she adds pushing the case up next to Santana's. Stacie stands even closer until Brittany has to push past her to take the seat next to Santana.
Stacie glares like Santana's in the way for a moment then grins at Brittany again. "I might go explore the train. Would you like to come with—"
"No." Brittany feels her face heat as she cuts Stacie off but she really doesn't need to spend any more time with the persistent girl.
Stacie looks put out but still slides the door shut slowly, holding Brittany in her gaze until the last moment.
Santana shakes her head and Brittany catches the end of another eye-roll.
Brittany takes her hand because she can. "Does it bother you to see her being all… that way?"
"Not especially," Santana shrugs.
"Why not?" Brittany pouts.
"Because, for all that she pretends otherwise she is a child. Also, and most importantly because I trust you. And I'm glad when other people see how wonderful you are. Knowing that someone else is trusting and loving you. It calms the urge to rip off the face of every dullard that doesn't appreciate your genius."
Brittany's face screws up. "Loving?"
Santana smiles in the way that says you're too much wonderful right now. "She was trapped in a terrible situation with no escape in sight until you swept in all heroic on your white horse and saved the day. Of course she's going to have some positive feeling for you."
"I guess," Brittany says unsure. "I didn't have a horse though."
Santana sighs, "I know, Sweets," and brings her face down so she can press their lips together.
Brittany falls into the kiss, realising that it's been several days since they were properly alone. She's also noticed there are curtains to block their cabin from view. She lets one hand fall to Santana's knee and deepens the kiss.
"Mr Pierce, are you trying to cause a scandal?" Santana laughs into her lips.
Brittany just lets her hand drift higher and Santana pulls reflexive at Brittany's collar to bring them closer. That overwhelming feeling of being close to Santana hasn't faded. Brittany thinks the feeling might be getting stronger as she loves Santana more and their binds grow tighter, their need for one another greater. She wants to say don't ever let me go, but there's no room for that as Santana's hands drift down and—
"Hey Brent, did you know there's a whole carriage with food and a bar," Stacie pushes the door open and the illusion of a private room disappears.
Santana jumps away from their embrace looking guilty. She glances out the window and Brittany follows her gaze. The train has started moving and Tucson is somewhere behind them.
Brittany is annoyed and, already untangled from Santana she feels cold. She gets up and says, "I'm taking a walk."
Stacie blocks her way, leaning forward so they're face to face and much closer than they should be. Brittany's shoulders tense but she doesn't back away. Stacie says, "I could show you everything." She looks down then up through her lashes yet again. "If you'd like."
Brittany feels helpless as she tries to remember what she'd told Santana. They're all Stacie has right now. "No thank you," she says. "I'd just like a minute to stretch my legs."
Stacie goes to sit down looking disappointed. Santana covers an amused smile under her hand and Brittany suddenly feels annoyed at all the girls and all the emotions in existence. Especially those emotions turning in young girls' minds.
— s — — b —
Hours flow by with the changing scenery. They sleep and talk and wonder how things fare back in Clothier. They stare out the window as things change and Brittany grows more tense. They leave the train, and walk and walk and then Brittany can finally see water, water belonging to a greater bay, she can smell salt on the air and she knows she's home, understands for the first time in more than a year that she's missed the city—without even knowing it.
They embark the ferry from Alameda to San Francisco with crowds of weary travellers and merchants. The decks are full of people and high stacked crates so they hug their belongings close with each other at the bow. Brittany stares forward though with fog thick enough to taste there's nothing to see.
Santana jumps when the engines roar to life, looking around startled when they move forward and away from shore. "This thing definitely floats?" Santana looks angry but Brittany knows she's just scared. Soon they won't be able to see either shore through the fog.
Brittany wraps an arm over Santana's shoulders. "Definitely. And I know you know how to swim," She murmurs directly into a receptive ear. Santana looks at her remembering the same moment of filtered light, naked pressing skin, and sweet cooling water. They both grin then, a giggle escaping Santana as Brittany leans in to nudge their noses together.
Within a few minutes, a wind picks up perpendicular to the movement of their boat and the fog lifts, blue skies are suddenly bright above them and the city appears to greet them. Brittany thinks it's bigger since she left, San Francisco always growing, new people arriving, busier every day. Santana stares ahead with her mouth open, grasping Brittany's hand tight. Stacie looks mostly at Brittany with only spare glances at the approaching city.
"You'll come with us for now," she tells Stacie hoping to shift her gaze. "And then we'll find your family." Brittany moves a little to get further out of the girl's reach but Santana won't let her, keeping them all close together right up until the ferry is docked and they're back on dry land.
— s — — b —
We survive the ferry ride though I feel wind-assaulted and nauseous. The train was bad enough and after days of the ground moving too quickly underneath me I'd be happy to never sit in a moving carriage again. Brittany's gentling finger tips can only distract me for so long.
We gather our bags and move with the crowd passing through the gates. On the other side I curse realising that what I'd seen from the water was not an illusion. The city is made up entirely of hills. And the coach waiting for us must be taken gladly.
I have to breath deep through my nose, holding tight to Brittany's hand as the coach sways its way up the hill. My stomach won't settle and I feel my face must be green. By the time we stop moving again Brittany has to untangle herself from me to alight from the coach and take our bags. Stepping out I look up hoping for a resting place to sit and stop my head from spinning. I see Brittany smiling at me and waving her hand at a house.
But not just a house. I'd seen the lawyer's catalogue of Brittany's recent acquisitions. I knew the numbers and values were high but I just had no idea a house this size could be owned by just one person. Brittany doesn't hesitate, just checks the number by the gate and pushes through. As we reach the front stair the door is opened for us, a man in a neat black suit and tie steps aside with a bow.
Following Brittany inside I see three women standing in a line by the stairs wearing matching grey dresses. Looking around I have to remember to keep my mouth closed. Finer chairs, plusher rugs and more finely embroidered curtains than I've ever seen fill every room in sight. My hatbox and parasol are taken by a woman in a finely pressed grey dress and starched white apron. She nods with a polite smile and turns away quick but I can't help but feel dishevelled in my travelling clothes.
Refocusing on our surrounds rather than myself, I look at Brittany. She raises her brow as if to say what do you think? and I try not to laugh. "How do you own so many things, Sweets?" She rolls her eyes at my joke and hands off the luggage in her arms. My bags are nothing to this lavish house and I realise for the first time that I needn't have brought a thing from Clothier.
The suited man clears his throat, bows and introduces himself. "I am Mr Figgins, your Butler." Brittany steps forward to shake his hand vigorously. Mr Figgins looks like she's crushed his hand and he winces as she releases him. Waving at the three women he says slowly, "This is your Housekeeper, Martha. Your Cook Mrs Rose, and her daughter Marley. Marley was to be Miss Lopez's Ladies Maid, but since you've brought a girl with you I suppose we can—"
Stacie laughs as the man is clearly referring to her. I laugh as the thought of having someone as my maid is ridiculous.
"I'm not a maid."
"She's not my maid."
We look at each other and Stacie grants me her first unforced smile.
Brittany launches herself at the three women to shake each of their hands. The looks on their faces suggest that this isn't appropriate but I can't help my grin at how happy Brittany is to meet them.
Mr Figgins hums and murmurs until he can gather his wits again. This isn't how he expected things to go. "Well, I suppose Sir, we can sort that out later, I'm sure you would like—"
"Bedrooms," Brittany says without preamble.
"Ah," Figgins gestures up the stairs.
Brittany grabs my hand dashing toward the stair. She speaks over her shoulder a direction to Stacie, "Grab the best room you can find mini Evans."
I laugh at Stacie's expression as she's left at the bottom of the stairs with her mouth open.
— s — — b —
A few hours after their arrival, an official invitation arrives for Brittany to visit the factory her father built for her—for Brent. She tips the delivery boy well and opens the letter to see her brother's name in flourished script. Brittany tries not to think poorly of her father. She supposes he thought her brother would take care of her.
Looking at the letter, Birttany still has no understanding of what this warehouse makes and the company letter is from the office of the Senior Editor. Brittany doesn't know why the person who edited the letter would get all the credit.
Santana does't want her to go and the attempts to make Brittany stay get more basic until by morning her manoeuvres are purely physical. The pleasant twitching in Brittany's legs isn't enough to stop her pinning Santana down and giving as good as she got.
A naked and content Santana continues to mumble her wish for Brittany to stay as Brittany is pulling on fresh clothes. "I just want to keep you here safe with me for a while longer, Sweets." Brittany eyes Santana's naked body with longing and Santana smooths her fingertips up over her waist and breasts watching Brittany's eyes follow. "Please stay."
Brittany almost undoes all the buttons she's just fastened. Almost. She shakes her head with resolve. "We can't just lie in bed all day, in fact you can't just lie in this bed at all."
Santana scowls at the reminder of their pretence in propriety. "You said that they're not aloud to spread house secrets," she says referring to the staff who had pointedly guided them to separate bedrooms.
Brittany sighs. Santana agreed yesterday and is just trying to delay her. "Yes, if I find out any staff are gossips I would have solid grounds for firing them but that just means they don't let me find out, all the while telling just enough people that the whole city knows of our debauchery." Brittany winks on the last word. "Look, it's just a quick trip into a safe area to look at my very safe new factory."
"Where they manufacture?" Santana smirks.
Brittany shakes her head and adjusts her tie. "Ill find out today. It will probably be something boring but we still need to know." She picks up her coat but is distracted by Santana grasping the tie and dragging her back into bed.
— s — — b —
Brittany never expected anything quite like this. While she had an idea of what a factory might look like from from the illustrations in her school books she just never realised machines could get so large. All she can do is stare.
"Mr Pierce, if you could come this way," her guide beckons her forward again.
Brittany keeps taking a little longer than she should to answer to 'Mr' but she turns now starting to get a feel for things.
"Now you'll see here something we're quite proud of. The archives."
"Very good." Brittany smiles, matching her guide's excitement like she understands.
Granted, she now knows they manufacture (No, they print) newspapers. A weekly newspaper and a monthly magazine. The San Francisco Guardian has been running for twenty-one years they tell her and Brittany can't miss that the time matches with her own birthday.
— s — — b —
Brittany shouldn't have left me alone with Stacie. She has so many questions, and I have so little patience.
"Does he like tea or coffee better?" She asked over breakfast. "He's very strong, do you think he could lift me right off the floor?"
She's persistent, I'll give her that. I mostly take no notice of her questions as I move through each room, investigating drawers and cupboards and any other openable space I can find. Eventually, she storms off in a huff realising I'm ignoring her.
Discovering Stacie is more than a mild nuisance, I have to compare her to the staff. Whoever knew you could have so much money you could pay other people to do all of the most menial tasks for you? I never knew, and I certainly never guessed you could get this kind of work and be an idiot.
I discover their boundaries by accident. After breakfast I realise that the layout of the house mirrors Corcorans. Going to investigate the space behind the stairs where my old living space would be I bump into Marley. She apologises profusely, but as I try to move past her she blocks my way. Still apologising.
"Why apologise but then refuse to move?" I huff as she block my path again.
She looks down shy and embarrassed. "This is the servants' area," she murmurs.
"So I don't have access to a whole section of the house?" I demand.
She looks horrified. "Of course, Miss. I just didn't think, I wan't sure, or I didn't know. I couldn't—"
I hold up a hand. "Fine. Just. Stop muttering at me, will you."
Marley snaps her mouth shut fast enough she might have been trying to catch flies. She's also red in the face and looks like she's about to cry. I realise then that she doesn't have a place in this house if I don't want her as a ladies maid. As much as I don't need one, I also don't want to put this poor girl out on the street.
"If you'd like to see the rest of the house, of course you can Miss Lopez." She looks down.
I baulk as always at being called Miss. "Santana," I say on reflex.
Marley keeps looking down. "Of course Miss Santana."
"No, lean-bean." I try not to snap, but honestly. "Not Miss. Just Santana."
She nods but does't say my name.
"Marley, right?" I ask.
She nods.
"Don't worry, okay. I'll just stay out of your way. And you can keep doing what ever it is that you do."
— s — — b —
Brittany nods along as every facet of printing and news gathering are explained to her. She nods until she thinks she might have dislocated something important in her neck.
"Er thank you." She clears her throat. "Thank you for such a. Welcoming. Welcome." She looks around at the small crowd that have gathered to show Brent around their workplace and raises her voice. "Er, I think. I think you are doing great work and you will all get, ah some thing well deserved in the near future. I think. Candy Thurdsays. Yes," she nods happy with that idea. "Candy Thursdays."
Ignoring any odd looks she makes her excuses, avoids shaking any hand thrust towards her and makes a break for the nearest door that's showing an outline of sunlight. "Now good day gentleman." She remembers her brother in his greater pretensions saying as much to her father's business partners. She opens the door then slams it behind her.
— s — — b —
So maybe being without Brittany makes me feel a little odd. Uncomfortable, maybe? Like my skin doesn't fit right if I can't just go and touch her. At least in clothier I knew where she was. I could find her or she me and and I could feel her skin for a moment and then be on with my chores. As it is she's been gone for most of the day and I have no chores to complete.
I'm starting to worry.
Only a half day in and I know I'll need to find some occupation for myself. I've unpacked our bags already, glaring the housekeeper away before she could do it for me. I investigate the indoor plumbing, glad no one is present to see me marvelling at the pipes. It takes me too many minutes to figure their working but once I do, I have a bath filled and steaming. There's an array of pleasant smelling oils and I pick one that doesn't seem too overpowering to pour into the water. Sinking in my thoughts go from Brittany back to Clothier. I try to guess what would have been happening since we left. Probably much of the same thing as when we were still there.
We left in early morning, with the sun barely over the horizon and most of the house asleep. Kurt and Shelby came out to see us off along with Brittany's Lieutenant Anderson and of course Sam. Michael negotiated our travel with no small investment of favours and was there to make sure our departure ran smoothly. Things were more troublesome since Stacie was leaving with us and the less people who knew of our leaving the better. I'd already said my goodbyes to Mercedes and Sugar who were both sworn to keep things quiet.
Quinn was the hardest to say goodbye to. There weren't any tears because we're us but the hug we shared was the tightest and warmest I'd experienced with anyone other than Brittany.
"Just keep yourself safe," she told me, the statement as much a threat as anything else.
"Don't do anything stupid, Fabray," I commanded her just the same way. I had asked her to come with us, knowing she wouldn't. I still don't know what is happening between her and Rachel. I don't think they know either. But they're too closely linked, each too dependent on the other's validation to consider the consequences of their relationship. I feel like I know that feeling. I don't want to lose her.
I started to say, "If anything—" but cut myself off before I could finish the word 'happens'. There's too much that could go wrong and I didn't want to bring any of it up. "If you change your mind," I tried again. "Come after us."
Quinn nodded but turned around to stand by Rachel. Not touching, but connected. Rachel hugged me as well. She cried of course. Silent, streaming tears which affected me more than I liked. "Don't hurt her," I said quiet into her ear as we embraced. Unsaid was the implication that she keep herself safe as well. I couldn't say it aloud but her teary smile let me think she understood me.
Shelby stood separate, unwilling to engage in emotional farewells. She told us to be safe with a particular look at Brittany who nodded firmly. While most would see a stern, cold woman I knew better. So did everyone who knew her well and Quinn moved to stand closer to Shelby while Kurt rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.
I did wave back at them once the stagecoach started moving. Kurt and the Lieutenant, Michael, Shelby, Quinn and Rachel, a line of friends waved back at me. I held in my tears as I realised I had more people in my life then I thought. I trusted them with my life.
— s — — b —
Brittany feels like this is one of those moments when a man might say I need a smoke and, leaning heavy against the wall pulling her hat down low she wishes she'd caught the habit. She's sure the men in that newspaper expect her to return and run things. She doesn't know how she can. She needs to get back to Santana, needs to tell her what she's feeling. Fearing.
Her eyes are closed when a man nearby clears his throat, he's just a short distance away and Brittany startles, pushing her hat back and wondering if she might have given herself away somehow. The worry doubles when she sees the crowd of men blocking her only exit from the alley. She gives a polite nod as she tries the door handle behind her back. It's locked. "Good afternoon, gentleman," she says though there's nothing gentle about them. These men are goons.
The leader replies, "Mr Pierce, we've been expecting you." His voice is smooth and polite, his clothes and hair neater than the others'.
Brittany tries a laugh as she looks around, assessing her options. "Here I thought I'd been forgotten. There was no welcome party for me. No rivers, bunting or cake."
Some of the men chortle. They're feeling comfortable. "Rivers?"
"You know," Brittany stalls, edging toward the building opposite. "When you welcome someone home theres rivers and bunting like the flags all hanging up in a row spelling out my name."
A young man near the back laughs. "Does he mean streamers?"
No one else laughs as the leader makes his move swinging with a fist meant for Brittany's temple. Brittany steps lightly out of his reach once then again as the man lurches forward unbalanced. She reaches arms above as her back hits a wall, grabbing a window's bars gaining leverage to swing her legs up and kick out at the first man then two others behind him.
They fall and don't get back up.
Brittany drops back on the ground and pulls the crow bar from the leader's belt. These goons thought she was going to be easy. She supposes Brent would have been. Brittany smirks as the four men left pull out short clubs and mallets. Nothing sharp or too easily identified as a weapon.
"Who's first?" she goads, twirling the crowbar in one hand, her feet apart in a strong stance. The men look at each other as much as at her, none willing to step forward first. "Let's go girls."
Brittany grins as the men start to come at her. One at a time they give her time and space to dance out of their reach. She spins left as one man charges right and she slaps his backside with the crowbar as he stumbles past. She does the exact same to the next man flicking off his stout bowler and putting it on over her own hat.
She's about to tease them some more but then the biggest man's fist connects from behind and he knocks stars into her eyes making her fall sprawling onto the ground. He grabs one arm to haul her up and suddenly Brittany is caught, the crow bar cluttering to the ground as the next biggest goon takes her other arm. It occurs to Brittany that it would be nice to see Evans round that corner like he'd done with the Indians.
The smallest, roundest man picks up the crow bar. His face is cut in a snarl as he smacks the bar into his open palm.
"Get it done Smith," an oaf holding her says gripping her tighter. Brittany struggles and kicks out hard as she can at the men approaching her. They're wary but seem to be working together now. She should have knocked the life out of them when she had the chance. She doesn't cringe away from the thought that she should've killed them.
"More trouble than he thought you'd be Pierce. But don't worry. Today you're just to be outa commission. This is a message. Next time though. After what you done to StJames and the others, well," he nods to his fallen friends. "The boss might just give us new orders."
B takes that to mean she won't be killed today. But with the way Smith swings the crowbar back she thinks there may not be much difference between this beating and the one that kills her.
A bark is the only warning she gets as everything shifts. Smith yells out as his arm is dragged down in the jaws of a great dog. The hands gripping her become loose, Brittany twists and ducks to pull her arms free then digs her elbows into both man's solar plexus so they double over in unison and she can knock their heads together. They release an oomph noise before crumpling to the ground. Brittany now counts five bodies at her feet. Smith in an attempt to displace the dog trips over his own bootlaces and cracks his head on the cobbled street making the sixth body. Brittany picks up the crowbar and turns to the two men left standing. The dog stands walks over to stand by her side growling. Brittany's breathing hard but her voice is clear. "Who's next? And who's gonna tell your boss what happened?"
The taller of the two men has a long mean face which pinches as he looks between Brittany and his companion.
"Messenger birds don't come in pairs," she tells him.
Pinch Face nods, quickly smacks his fist into the other man's temple and has run out of sight before the body hits the ground.
Brittany lets out a laugh as she falls shakily to one knee. That was too close. A soft wine accompanies the lick her knew animal-companion gives her. "You saved me Pup." Another whine lets Brittany know the dog is listening. "And who are you anyway, girl?" Brittany sits back on her haunches to look the dog square in the face. "You're pretty, that's for sure."
The animal looks at her for a moment before licking Brittany's face again. Her filth-matted coat is a mixture of dark and light, her eyes brown behind a smiling face.
"You certainly showed up in the nick of time." Brittany scratches behind the dog's ear and accepts further licks to her wrist. "I outa go though. Santana is waiting for me." She smiles. "I need to go home."
The dog gives her another lick as Brittany stands and then follows her from the alley. The men on the ground are stirring and Brittany knows they should leave in case any police show up. "You should go too, girl. Go home to your family. Thank you for helping." She turns out of the alley back toward home and toward Santana.
The dog follows.
— s — — b —
It's getting dark and I'm filled with worry. After my bath I've had nothing to do but wait. There's a library in the house but none of the titles caught my interest well enough to make me read them.
When the front bell rings I dash to the foyer. Figgins reaches the door first but I glare him down, getting to the door before he can actually open it. He bows with no small amount of hesitation and steps back. Opening the door I find a young man holding the scruff of a giant, filthy dog. I didn't expect urchins to be going door to door in this city and definitely not in this neighbourhood. I look him over again and realise his coat is much too finely tailored for an urchin no matter how grimy.
"San, you shouldn't be opening the door yourself." Brittany pushes her hat back and grins at me. Her jaw is a terrible shade of red and she's entirely covered in mud and muck. "That's what Figgins is paid for."
The dog barks an apparent agreement but I decide to leave that question for later pulling Brittany through the doorway so I can kiss her soundly. Figgins lets out a noise of distress but I ignore him as I pull at Brittany's hair. Brittany wraps her arms tight enough around me that I let out a squeak.
She laughs letting her arms arms relax and giving me distance enough to glare at her. "You're late," I tell her. "It's dark." She smiles and I think it might be only my third smile of the day.
She says, "In the dark I can follow your light home again." Her grin is cheeky.
I have no choice. I kiss her again and laugh as her arms tighten around me and my feet leave the floor.