Puritan Values
Fewthistle
"Do not seek for warm fire under cold ice." –Samuel Rutherford
She didn't know what she had been expecting. Why in God's name, of all the places she could have gone for sympathy, had she ended up here?
Eyes so like her own met hers across the mirror-like surface of polished mahagony. Crystal slivers of indigo ice assessed her mercilessly, as a tanned hand grasped, a trifle too firmly, a Lalique tumbler full of pale amber liquid.
"What exactly did you expect, Serena?'" Her father asked caustically, his voice rough with disgust and twenty-five year old Scotch. "Bad enough being a homosexual, but taking up for those people? I don't blame Branch. I'd have fired you, too."
"You already did, Dad, years ago," she answered quietly, taking a long sip from her glass, feeling the deep chill of those eyes even as the Scotch burned a trail to her soul.
