A/N: ... Howdy, folks.

Dang! We're in February already?! That's gone quick! Can't say the same for my most recent update for Ghost of a Kind, sadly. It appears it's taken me... *checks calendar* ...almost five months to get back to, huh? Yikes. You all are probably wondering why it's taken such a long time for me to get back to this one, especially if some of you have noticed me updating other fics during that time. Well, my fellow readers, for those of you who have not seen the explanation on my FF profile, nor in the author's notes for both The Owlcast and Shadows of a Spare... here it is.

Basically, if you haven't been following my profile updates on FF, I have been trying to write this chapter on and off for a few months now. But there were quite a few 'bumps in the road' that set me back quite a bit, and have continued to set me back not just with this fic, but my other ones as well. The first is my chronic illness. To those of you unaware in case I haven't mentioned this in previous author's notes and such, I have a chronic illness that I have to manually treat with medication. Since February 2024, my doctors changed my medication because they thought I needed to manage my condition better. But the new medication has been nothing but trouble since I've had it. My issues have been on and off since February, but things seemed to settle down around June and early August time, so I thought it was getting better. But then September came along, and all of a sudden, my condition somehow got worse! It was just one bad day after another for four months straight, with the occasional good one sprinkled here and there. And as if my situation couldn't get any worse, the medical equipment that I use to monitor my condition, which didn't have any issues until now might I add, has started acting up and becoming incompatible with things it's supposed to be compatible with, with the company behind the creation of this equipment being of very little help when it comes to getting them back into appropriate working order. Sadly, this is still ongoing, so as of this update, I don't have a resolution to this.

But that isn't all, folks. Oh, no. Because on top of those issues, on FF, I've been receiving non-stop attention from scammers who think that it's funny to follow and favourite my stories and me, as well as spamming my PMs with hollow praise about my writing, thinking I'm stupid enough to give you money. And it's the only goddamn attention that my writing has been receiving as well over the past four months or so. Needless to say, my muse for writing was very quickly kicked to the curb because of that, with only the legitimate comments I was receiving here and on AO3 keeping me going.

Either way, venting aside, I've finally managed to conjure up something for Ghost of a Kind at last. However, going forward, I've re-evaluated my current writing schedule in the hopes of combating against my current issues, meaning updates will be taking longer than they were before. You can read more about that on my FF profile in the 'updates' section. On a more positive note, though: Ghosts BBC has been greenlit for a film! So, that's some good news for the New Year, right? XD

But anyways, thank you to everyone who has been favouriting, following, reviewing and reading this fanfic in the meantime. Your continued support is greatly appreciated. Which I'm serious about, by the way, because I've recently noticed here on FF that Ghost of a Kind is currently the second most followed fic in this fandom. No joke. I'm speechless, to be honest. Would also like to remind everyone that Ghost of a Kind can also be found over on Ao3, if anyone needs it. For now, I hope you all enjoy the next chapter. Not much happens this time around plot-wise, but at least you'll get to see Cordelia interacting with Thomas and Julian a little more. XD

Chapter 20: Butting Heads

The ballroom was swarming with builders by the time Robin and Cordelia made their way to the second floor. Men in casual attire or bright green vests and yellow hardhats came and went through every single entrance to the room without a second thought, either empty handed or transporting tools and other equipment to various areas of the home. There was so many of them, in fact, that Robin and Cordelia were forced to sequester themselves close to the windows to avoid being walked through, the pair awkwardly standing side by side in front of the wall between two windows.

'Goodness gracious!' Cordelia inwardly exclaimed, drooped blue eyes jumping between the different groupings of builders scattered about the ballroom. 'It is as if Button House has become infested with worker ants! I cannot remember the last time I bore witness to so many living people occupying such a small space in this very house—' Cordelia cut herself off mid-thought at the sudden realisation that came to her, her brows shooting up with a wide blink. 'Oh! Actually, was it not during that charity soiree Lady Heather hosted about two decades ago? I recall the invited and wealthy company spreading themselves throughout almost every single room of both floors—'

A forlorn sigh sounded close to Cordelia's left ear, disrupting her train of thought for the second time. She turned her head to the windowsill she was standing beside, spying a certain Regency-era poet gazing longingly outside. Thomas rested one knee on the opposite corner of the windowsill while clasping his hands together in his lap, initially lost in thought based on the glassy look the Victorian ghost observed in his eyes. Cordelia's movement, however, soon caught the Regency-era poet's eye, drawing his attention to the biologically younger ghost with a surprised blink.

"Oh, Miss Edevane!" Thomas acknowledged, smiling politely. He tipped his head forward and lifted one of his hands close to it, pretending to tip his invisible top hat off to her. "Good day."

"Good morning, Mister Thorne," Cordelia courteously greeted and bowed her head in return, suppressing an annoyed eye twitch at the reminder of their similar mannerisms and speech.

Cordelia knew it couldn't be helped. Whether coincidental or due to the similarities their individual time periods possessed, it was difficult for any of the ghosts to ignore the personality traits and behaviour both Cordelia and Thomas clearly shared. And while in some ways neither Cordelia nor Thomas took issue with it, it did act as a point of contention between them, to the point where they were a frequent topic of humour amongst the rest of the group (Julian especially). Cordelia blamed Thomas' ego and melodramatic attitude not mixing well with her occasional outspokenness.

"How are you faring this tumultuous morning?" Thomas enquired, glancing the younger ghost over from head to toe before focusing on her face. "Much better than the previous day, I should hope."

"I am well, thank you for asking."

Thomas nodded in approval, then gestured to his own face with the circular twirl of his index finger. "I take it that it is the same for your physical recovery as well? Your cheeks look rosier than when I saw you here last."

"It does."

Thomas' smile widened upon hearing this. "I am glad to hear it. There was some concern after your departure that you may have exhausted yourself more than necessary. Catherine, in particular, was worried for your wellbeing."

Cordelia flinched at an elbow lightly poking her in the left side of her non-existent ribcage. She looked over to see Robin grinning proudly and placing his hands to his hips, his chin raised to the ceiling a bit.

"See? Told you."

'Yes, you did, indeed, my fine fellow.'

Cordelia took care not to say that thought aloud; the last thing Button House needed was another ghost with an inflated ego.

"Yes, well, the concern is not needed," Cordelia replied to Thomas. "I do not use my abilities often, so my exhaustion was merely the result of that. I have recovered now."

"Excellent."

And then… silence.

Allowing the racket of the builders to envelope the air between the three of them, Thomas straightened his posture against the wall and flitted his eyes back and forth from Cordelia to Robin two times, his brows raising in anticipation as he stared intensely at his two ghostly acquaintances. Thomas didn't need to say anything out loud for Cordelia to figure out what it was he was (not so) subtly requesting one of them to do, causing her to inwardly heave a weary sigh.

'God, spare me. Must I be forced to indulge in this self-serving gentleman's silly little whims?'

Thomas' earlier sighing, current position on the window ledge and the faraway stare down into the courtyard of Button House had not escaped Cordelia's attention. Past experience indicated that whenever Thomas elicited such actions, it was his way of purposely drawing everyone's focus to the fact that something was on his mind and he wanted to talk about it.

'Had it been one of the others, I would not mind obliging with the request to lend them my ear. But this is Thomas Thorne, Button House's very own thespian. Whatever problem is plaguing the poor fellow is likely a matter that, in hindsight, is not as dreadful as he believes it to be. Truthfully, he makes a much more compelling playwriter than a poet.'

Sadly, the Victorian woman knew there was no choice in the matter. Outside of it being rude for her not to return the enquiry about Thomas' wellbeing, Cordelia was aware from experience that the Regency-era poet had a knack for finding other means to slip whatever was on his mind into later conversation. If neither she nor Robin obliged Thomas now, it was going to come back to nip them in the backside later.

So, mentally deciding to suck it up this once, Cordelia inhaled deeply through her nose, rolled her shoulders back and forth a couple of times, and then, in a monotonous voice, looked the biologically older ghost dead in the eyes and asked:

"And how are you doing this morning, Thomas? I presume you are here because of Lady Button's 'emergency meeting', just like Robin and I."

The words tingled like poison on her tongue. It took all of Cordelia's concentration not to physically gag at the tin of worms she'd voluntarily opened.

Cordelia did not miss the way Thomas' eyes practically lit up in delight when they widened slightly at her enquiry. And neither did Robin, apparently, judging by the low and drawn out grunt the caveman made as his shoulders dropped and his arms went limp in front of him.

"Here it come…" Robin grumbled under his breath, one that fell deaf upon the ears of Button House's self-proclaimed poet.

The next thing Cordelia and Robin knew, Thomas' demeanour took a drastic (and not surprising) shift. The Regency-era gentleman, with the dramatic flourish of one of his hands to his forehead, arched his back and his head towards the ceiling, eyes closed.

"Oh, the matter is much more complicated than that, Miss Edevane!" he replied stridently, his voice thickly laced with honeyed cracks and breaths. "The dew is still upon the grass and yet the dawn of the new day has already been such a torment to my poor—no longer beating—heart!"

Cordelia's face remained stoic at the performance she was bearing witness to, the line about Thomas' 'no longer beating heart' swiftly clueing her in to what was troubling the biologically older ghost with the exasperated droop of her eyes.

'Please do not say that this matter involves Alison.'

And she wasn't the only one to make the same assumption. Robin, whose reaction wasn't as retrained as Cordelia's was, threw his head back to the ceiling with an elongated and annoyed huff.

"Ugh! Really?" he complained. "Thomas still in love with Kim Wilde?!"

Thomas snapped his body upright again and scowled disapprovingly at the chronologically oldest ghost, his nose crinkling. "Damn your eyes, sir! Of course I am!" he shouted defiantly, standing to his full height and bunching his fingers together on both hands close to his chest. "If that were not true, I would not have spent the countless hours of the early morn attempting to compose a poem of such intricate beauty for fair Alison!"

"But Kim Wilde no love Thomas!" Robin argued, aggressively gesturing his hands towards the side of the ballroom behind the Regency-era gentleman. "She love husband guy!"

'Well said, Robin!' Cordelia proudly remarked in her head, followed up with a matching nod to convey her solidarity. 'It is a relief to know that Thomas' coquetry behaviour is not just a bother to myself in this particular instance.'

Not that Thomas' claims for falling in love with every single woman he dared lay his eyes upon wasn't normally disliked by the other ghosts already. It was one of the few things them and Cordelia collectively agreed on (barring Thomas, of course). But considering the unusual circumstances now surrounding Alison, Cordelia had been especially irked by Thomas' blatant disregard of her boundaries and official marriage to Mike yesterday, even after she'd technically told him off about it a couple of days ago. So, she was glad to see at least one other ghost who shared in that feeling and wasn't afraid to speak their mind about it either.

Even though trying to reason with Thomas Thorne was like playing tennis with a curtain, as the Regency-era ghost was about to prove in Robin's case.

"Faradiddle, sir!" Thomas' scowl deepened while sweeping his left arm out, his other hand digging its fingers into the front of his vest. "Alison has yet to comprehend the profundity of my feelings for her! Hence the conception of my poem!" Thomas whipped his head sharply to his right when one of the builders leisurely strolled by from behind him, sending the unsuspecting living man a harsh glare at his back. "But how am I expected to work on my art with all of this agitation?!"

Realising his efforts to snap the biologically older poet back to his senses was futile, Robin dropped his shoulders with a gruff groan and smacked a palm harshly to his forehead, looking to Cordelia and pointing a finger from his other hand at Thomas.

"… Moron," he stated wearily, prompting Cordelia to huff quietly and sag her own shoulders in turn.

'Yes. A miserable one at that.'

A loud 'Pffft!' from a new and posh male voice entering the conversation sounded from the ballroom doorway leading to the west wing, seemingly responding to what Thomas had said.

"Oh, please!" the familiar voice commented condescendingly. All three ghosts turned around at the same time to the sight of none other than Julian Fawcett strolling his way over to them, one of his index fingers raised and repeatedly jabbing in Thomas' direction. "What do you know about work, mate? You haven't done a day's work in your life!" He stopped beside Robin and leaned forward on his toes at emphasising his next words. "Or death!"

Thomas gawked out of shock and started spluttering incoherently, recoiling and clutching at his chest as though the former Conservative MP had just exposed some deep, dark, humiliating secret of his. Meanwhile, Robin and Cordelia didn't react further to Julian's little entrance. He must have been 'summoned' by Fanny, Cordelia instantly concluded.

"I beg your pardon!" Thomas yelled upon finding his voice, icily glaring and straightening out his back and head so his eyes looked down at Julian (which had little effect, since the MP was a little taller than him). "Do you mock me, sir?!"

And in response, Julian reacted exactly how Cordelia anticipated he would; righting his posture, smiling smugly and casually shrugging with his arms held out on either side of him. "It isn't mocking if it's true~," he teased.

Immediately, Robin erupted into hearty laughter, throwing his head back and clutching his arms to his abdomen while his body quaked with the release of his amusement. Cordelia, however, stayed quiet in light of Julian's little comeback, merely shaking her head and breathlessly sighing as she watched Thomas' nostrils flare and his hands drop limply to his sides in loose fists.

'While I detest Julian the most out of every one of us forced to gather under this roof, his blunt and careless honesty can be an asset at times.'

Thomas finally silenced Robin's laughter by angrily stomping his right foot against the bare wooden floorboards of the ballroom, in turn physically flinching Cordelia out of her train of thought.

"Well, I never!" he harrumphed, averting his gaze to the window and then pouting and crossing his arms until his armpits like a toddler throwing a tantrum (or so Cordelia thought, anyway). "I was not aware my internal matters of the heart were nothing but mirth to you!"

Julian snorted obnoxiously and turned to Robin beside him, jabbing his thumb in Thomas' direction. "What's got his goat?"

"Thomas still in big love with Kim Wilde, but Kim Wilde no love him back," Robin explained, causing the MP's brows to shoot up sharply.

"You mean Alison?" Julian questioned incredulously, prompting Robin to nod and grunt in affirmation. "Ha!" A humoured grin slipped onto Julian's face then, his finger pointing at the grumpy poet the same way a jeering child would. "You have the hots for Alison!"

Thomas clicked his tongue at Julian's further attempts to tease him, refraining from glancing in his direction. "Oh, cease your chatter!"

Cordelia, meanwhile, creased her brows and crinkled her nose at Julian's remarks and reaction. "And how is that surprising to you, Julian? Thomas'…" A lump sprung to the inside of the Victorian woman's throat at the next thing she wanted to say, giving her pause to swallow thickly and then force herself to continue. It didn't stop her voice breaking on the emphasised word, though. "…affections for Alison weren't a secret before now."

Julian chose to respond with a noise of confusion and another laidback shrug of his shoulders. Cordelia brushed it off with a purposefully long huff and disappointed shake of the head. He didn't need to say anything for Cordelia to guess the reason for herself.

'He must not have been paying attention again. Not that I can completely place the blame upon him, of course. There was too much commotion.'

"Though, speaking of secrets…" Julian said, wriggling his eyebrows about in a playful manner at the biologically younger ghost. "Surprised to see you here after yesterday."

"Because of how terribly Lady Button and the Captain have treated my supposed 'betrayal', you mean?" Cordelia enquired calmly, unperturbed at the topic shift; it was expected by now.

"Well, yeah. But you know,"—Julian twirled his hands around and gestured them up and down Cordelia's front—"You don't normally attend these meetings unless you're forced to."

Cordelia sniffed haughtily and lifted her chin a little at the reminder, her chest puffing out in turn. Julian wasn't wrong, and yet it hadn't stopped the pride from swelling within her being at acknowledging the obvious change in her behaviour.

"Yes, well, the circumstances have changed, haven't they? We have not been accustomed to living people wandering in and out of Button House since Lady Heather occupied it. I see no reason why I should not be in attendance, in the least to remain informed of what is happening."

On the surface, Cordelia's response sounded rational (and unbeknownst to the others, partially truthful where her personal reasoning was concerned), a fact that caused a brief hush to descend amongst the four gathered ghosts.

Unfortunately, it wasn't good enough to fool someone as sly and cunning as Julian Fawcett. "The builders disturbed you too, then?" he questioned bluntly.

And upon hearing that… the blonde-haired ghost's prideful front faltered, a bead of sweat springing to one of her temples and her body sagging forwards with the shameful droop of her head.

"Yes. Yes, they did," Cordelia mumbled flatly, then rolled her shoulders back and forth and straightened up again. "That does not make my first answer any less true, however."

"Don't blame you either way, love." Julian twisted his lips and clasped his hands behind his back as he observed a builder in a green vest and yellow hardhat approach him, Robin and Cordelia from behind. The trio quickly backed up a couple of steps, narrowly avoiding one of them being passed through. "Builders are awful. The noise, the football chat, the potty banter—reminds me of when I was extending the Bramptons back in '86. Had such a terrible time of it."

Thomas, Cordelia and Robin simultaneously squinted and exchanged befuddled frowns when Julian's words failed to sink in, with Robin additionally scratching at the side of his head. It took the former MP a moment to notice their shared confusion, his brows shooting up sharply the second he did.

"Ah, right. 'Course you wouldn't know what I'm talking about. The Bramptons was a modest Oxfordshire pile—eleven bedrooms, tennis courts, wet room, you get the gist!"

'No, we do not, good sir,' Cordelia sarcastically quipped in her thoughts, blue eyes sweeping over Thomas and Robin to witness the former tutting under his breath and the latter knitting his brows together with a quiet "Eh?" leaving his pursed lips. 'The ignorant perceptions of the wealthy towards the working class is still prevalent even in the modern age, I see. Such a shame.'

When none of his small audience responded to what he said, Julian dismissively shook his head and then looked the builder standing in front of them over from head to toe, tugging on the collar of his blazer with both hands. "But anyway: point is, builders are thieves, tinkers to a man. So, I—for one—can understand why they've gotten Fanny in such a tizz!"

'Thieves? Tinkers?' Cordelia frowned in disapproval at the taller ghost's back and crossing her arms in front of her chest. 'I agree their entrance into this home was impolite, and they could dress themselves more respectably.'—Cordelia's left eye twitched at the uncomfortable recollection she had with Fanny and Robin downstairs a short time ago upon saying that—'But that does not warrant name calling.'

As much as Cordelia wanted to state such aloud to Julian's face, however, she instead chose to hold her tongue and fume away inwardly, knowing her words would make little difference and sprout unnecessary discord. This wasn't the first time her spectre ears had overheard Julian making such derogatory remarks about the working class, something he and Fanny had in common, now that she was thinking about it. And while Cordelia, naturally, found some of what he said now rather offensive in spite of it not being directed at her specifically, she was currently in the right mind to acknowledge this wasn't the time to be starting silly debates.

'Although, I do not know how I shall fare if Julian's slight of the workmen persists throughout this emergency meeting.'

The distinctive echoing tap of the Captain's slightly heeled shoes marching against the bare and creaky wooden floorboards reached the spectre ears of the ballroom's present ghostly inhabitants soon enough, prompting all four heads to turn to the doorway Julian previously came through.

"Ah, you're all here! Jolly good!" the WW2 veteran greeted as he marched over to them, his back as straight as the baton tucked neatly under one of his arms.

Cordelia expected to spot the remaining five ghosts following along behind the Captain upon switching her focus to him. Instead, the blonde-haired ghost was left blinking perplexedly at a scowling Fanny powerwalking just off to the Captain's left, her shoulders squared and her fists swinging back and forth at her sides. Mary, Kitty, Pat and Humphrey (or rather, his head), however, were nowhere to be found amidst the swarm of scattered builders, a sight that left the blonde-haired ghost lifting a befuddled brow.

"It's just going to be us lot for this meeting, I'm afraid," the Captain continued and slowed to a stop a small distance away from the group of four, moving his baton behind his back to grip in between his clasped hands. Fanny promptly halted just beside him, righting her posture and clasping her own hands to her abdomen. "Mary, Catherine, Patrick and Humphrey have gone awol and our new enemy,"—the Captain briefly paused as the builder standing by the windows walked in between the two groups to the other side of the ballroom, his nose crinkling while he watched him go—"these builders, are already deep in our territory. So, we must—"

The Captain cut himself off abruptly when his and Cordelia's eyes met. They subtly widened with the slight recoil of his head for a few seconds, only to swiftly narrow into slits with the tilt of his chin, their trajectory changing to look down on Cordelia rather than at her.

"… Cordelia," the Captain acknowledged in a tight tone after a short and tense delay, his annoyance at her presence partially subdued but still noticeable.

"Good morning, Captain," Cordelia said politely and with the short bow of her head, following in the same example she'd done with Fanny earlier this morning.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here. Thought these emergency meetings weren't exactly your, uh…" The Captain purposely trailed off for a moment, seemingly for some sort of dramatic effect, before leaning forward on his toes. "…cup of tea."

"Of which you are not wrong," Cordelia replied calmly, her eyes briefly breaking away to glimpse the builders lingering around them. "But as I was explaining to Julian shortly before your prompt arrival, the circumstances have changed. As you have rightly said to me in the past, regardless of our opinions of each other, I am still a resident of the home's upstairs. It is a must that I keep myself informed of the goings on within Button House."

"As a spy, you mean?"

The Captain's accusation took Cordelia off guard, forcing her gaze back to the biologically older ghost with the sharp raise of her brows. "Pardon?"

"Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes, young lady!" the Captain scolded, righting his posture, puffing out his chest and tucking his baton back under his arm. "I happen to have a particular set of skills when it comes to rooting out bad apples in my unit. And your switch in loyalties yesterday naturally makes you one!"

The clarification caused Cordelia to furrow her brows in disbelief, forcing a couple of blinks to make sure this wasn't a lucid daydream she'd just conjured up. "Apologies, Captain, but are you insinuating that you think my attendance to this meeting is solely to report your discussion to the living lady of the house?"

"What other reason would you have for being here otherwise?"

Cordelia opened her mouth to argue, an index finger raised. A few seconds later, however, no words materialised upon her tongue, the dawning realisation that she had no argument prompting her maw to shut and her hand to slowly lower once more.

'As much as I loathe to admit, I cannot fault the Captain for making such a presumption. The only time I have ever willingly attended these gatherings has been since the arrival of Alison and Michael. And my defiance yesterday has certainly made unfavourable in the eyes of the Captain and Fanny in particular. More so than before.'

And apparently, she wasn't the only one with that train of thought, as Julian unabashedly proved.

"He does make a good point."

The former MP's comment earnt himself an icy glare from the tiny Victorian woman. To unsuspecting ears, Julian's agreement with the Captain seemed harmless. But Cordelia knew better, easily spotting that all too familiar glimmer of mischief dancing in Julian's eyes, the same glimmer she often caught in Robin's whenever the caveman was up to something.

Julian was stirring the pot, purposely encouraging the Captain's baseless accusations against Cordelia for his own entertainment. Cordelia did not appreciate that.

"Do not encourage this farcical, sir!" Cordelia snapped.

Julian frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar term. "What?"

Cordelia huffed and slumped her shoulders out of disbelief, more so towards herself than Julian. It wasn't his fault for not knowing of her Victorian dialect, after all. "Stop making the situation worse with unnecessary tall tales," she explained with forced emphasis, making Julian's brows relax.

"But he's not wrong." Julian gestured his palms at the Captain, lifting his shoulders a bit and tilting his head to the side. "How do we know you're not really here on behalf of Alison like yesterday, hm? Where's your proof?"

Cordelia's glare grew stern, her lips pressing together in a thin line alongside her brows. "First of all, Mister Fawcett, I believe I have made it very clear that my actions yesterday were in the interest of saving Button House and my own morals." She then switched her attention to the Captain and placed a hand to her chest. "But more importantly, Alison and I have not seen each other since yesterday morning, I shall have you know."

"It true!" Robin piped up, waving his hand about above his head and bouncing from side-to-side to get everyone's attention. "Cordel with me in common room whole time! Kim Wilde still sleep!"

"And the emergency meeting was decided not that long ago," Fanny quietly admitted, her eyes purposely averting to the floor to avoid making eye contact with Cordelia when the biologically younger ghost blinked at her in surprise. "Cordelia could not have known about it any sooner than she already has."

Unfortunately, Cordelia was given little time to ponder on Fanny's surprising and unexpected defence (And why wouldn't it be, considering their conversation this morning?). The Captain stubbornly shook his head, his moustache twitching with the twist of his lips.

"Yes, well, be that as it may, the fact remains that Cordelia willingly allied herself with the enemy and sabotaged our plans. She cannot be trusted."

"So, what are you saying, Captain?" Cordelia enquired bluntly, already having an idea as to where this was heading before he even gave her the answer.

"That you are not welcome at this emergency meeting." Removing his baton from under his arm, the Captain whipped it to the nearest entrance to the ballroom with a harsh-sounded lash at the empty air. "So, take your leave of the ballroom, if you please."

"'ey!" Robin shouted defiantly and scrunched his nose, causing Thomas, Julian and Cordelia (all three of whom were standing quite close to the caveman) to simultaneously flinch and recoil at the unexpected volume. Their reactions didn't stop Robin from stepping closer to Cordelia and balling his hands into loose fists against his fur-clad clothes. "Leave Cordel 'lone! She just try to help!"

"Cordelia deliberately withheld important information from a commanding officer and ignored orders," the Captain strictly retorted, turning his nose up to the ceiling and shooting Cordelia a tone-matching glare. "She is a traitor. And as ranking officer of this house, I refuse to give her vital information that will allow her to be one again!"

From the corner of her eyes, Cordelia spied Thomas sharply snapping his head in the Captain's direction, suddenly rising to his feet from the windowsill.

"Be one again?" Thomas repeated stridently. "Are you implying I was made to stay in the ballroom for yet another plot?"

"Who said anyone was forcing you to stay?" Julian off-handedly remarked, looking the biologically younger poet up and down. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're still here. You'd have normally stormed off by now."

"And that is precisely what I plan to do, sir!" Thomas held his high and snootily sniffed at the ceiling. "I do not have time to plot with you half-wits and work on my art! So, if you shall excuse me…"

And with the dramatic flourish of his fingers through his curly locks, Thomas Thorne whirled on his heels and marched off in the direction of the east wing landing, leaving the others watching him go with either befuddled blinks and raised brows (Fanny and the Captain), drooped eyes (Cordelia and Robin), or puffing air past their lips and releasing a huff similar to a snorting horse (Julian).

'It appears Thomas was waiting for the perfect opportunity to leave in a huff. He could not have chosen a more opportune time to do it.'

Cordelia waited until Thomas disappeared beyond the doorframe to clear her throat and clasp her hands together in the folds of her skirt, focusing her gaze specifically on the Captain.

"Well, I suppose this is where I, too, should take my leave," she stated sarcastically, narrowing her eyes between Fanny and the Captain. "Wouldn't want to postpone your emergency meeting any longer than I already have, after all."

"Hmmmmm," was all the Captain chose to respond with, while Fanny tutted under her breath and averted her eyes elsewhere.

"But Cordel—" Robin started to protest, only cutting himself off at Cordelia lifting a palm upright.

"Do not fret, Robin." When she locked eyes with the caveman, her own relaxed for the briefest moment, a faint and reassuring smile dancing upon her lips. "I have not forgotten what you've said. But it is for the best that I keep the peace for now, as little as it is."

'And try as hard as the Captain might to stop his plots from reaching my ears, it will not matter, in the end. One way or another, I shall find out what he is up to. But at least this time, I took the civil path first.'

Cordelia purposely kept that thought to herself. She didn't want to do anything to wind the Captain up any more than he already was, after all.

Cordelia's words were enough to pacify Robin then, the caveman simply nodding and grunting in understanding as he stepped away from her and closer to Julian's side. Though, the Victorian ghost still caught the subtle slump of Robin's shoulders, his slouched posture and despondent expression displaying his disappointment at not being able to do more.

'Apologies, Robin. Your efforts to defend my name were valiant.' Cordelia allowed her gaze to wander between the other three ghostly faces surrounding her without soaking in their current expressions. 'But alas, we were up against stubborn adversaries. Our loss was assured from the very beginning.'

"That being said, I bid you all good day," Cordelia resumed after a short round of silence, politely bowing her head as she did so. "Gentlemen, Lady Button."

And without waiting for a response or sparing her ghostly acquaintances another glance, Cordelia righted herself and leisurely strolled through the group, departing in the same direction Thomas previously left in.