Week 33, 4/14/2004, Wednesday, Vincent's Room

[boggan]

Her face pale, Freida knocks on Vincent's door. Her normal attire has been exchanged for something darker and more formal. Instead of jeans and brightly colored t-shirt, she wears a dress so deep a blue it is nearly black, its hem so low it falls almost to the ankles. Only her hair, as riotous and tussled as always, gives away that this is the

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[watchwight]

The door opens. Vincent stands there in all of his stoic glory, the room within its usual gothic gloom. His collection of broken clocks has been taken down and arrayed upon the bed. One clock remains on the wall, a rather dusty looking mantle clock on a shelf. Despite missing its minute hand, it sounds like it may be ticking.

"Goodwife Freida," he says as if noting the weather. "Please come in."

He turns and walks back into the room, softing muttering something that sounds vaguely like, "Until later then?" Beat. "Of course."

Turning back around, Vincent gestures to his desk chair, indicating that the Boggan should make herself confortable. "You must forgive me. I was engaged in a spot of redecorating whilst reminiscing."

The faint ticking sound from the clock seems to fade away, making one wonder if it was really making any noise to start with.

[boggan]

Freida swallows audibly. She shifts her gift from hand to hand, looking about. Eventually she manages to meet Vincent eye. "I have a favor to ask. Or... I guess, it's a service you provide, and I'd like to pay for it."

Without any fanfare, she presents the box. White, tied with a simple black ribbon, it holds numerous handfuls of carefully dried leaves, the smell of autumn's decay thick upon them. Nestled in them is a shard of black. Glass, yes, but glimmering faintly with glamour.

"I collected this last year to use for a craft, but decided on something else instead. I thought you might--" Her face screws up. "Would you do a regression for me?"

((OOC: 1 Glamour spent.))

[watchwight]

Vincent stands there silently, his face as stern and unmoving as a glacier. When he finally speaks, it seems to come out abruptly.

"Of course."

I could ask her what she hopes to find, but that is none of my concern.

"Master Xandros is currently out, and I do not expect him to return for some time." The Sluagh takes a rather tattered necktie and proceeds to wrap it around the outside doorknob. "Best we were not disturbed, however." When he shuts the door, the click of the bolt sliding into place with the sound of finality. Turning back about, he peers over the edge of his glasses. "Shall we begin?"

[boggan]

"Of course," Freida echoes, though her voice is far less assured than Vincent's. "What do I need to do? Do I need to lie down? Fill out a questionnaire or something?"

She looks about again, swallowing.

"You really have no idea how much of a favor this is."