Entry tags:

angelo, isobel wycliffe

Tobacco Connoisseurship
Who: Isobel Wycliffe and Angelo
Where: On the street, outside Reed's House
When: May 5, a little after 10 P.M.
Status: Incomplete
Summary: Isobel steps outside and attempts a new affectation.

If she did not exactly enjoy her current profession, Isobel nearly always appreciated it. A career that allowed her to sleep in late, dress in the latest fanciful creations, and avoid even minor domestic duties held considerable appeal. But some days--and some men--proved more trying than others. A week after beginning at Madam Phoebe's brothel, she had invented a sort of game for herself, inspired by her theatrical parents. She would amuse herself by matching the men who called upon her services to characters from the works of William Shakespeare. A good day would include visits from an Orlando or a Romeo, a bad one would be littered with less appealing characters. Today had been full of Poloniuses. Old, plodding, tedious men who failed to spark any sort of fire in her, mentally or otherwise. Her last client could not be prevailed upon to leave promptly and she had been forced to spend a full quarter of an hour after the act itself listening to his complaints about his profligate son and the leaking roof in his barn.

The moment he had finally been coaxed out the back door, Isobel had seized her chance to escape into the street for a little night air. The hum of conversation could be heard from the inn across the way, but otherwise the street was unusually quiet. Sneaking a glance in each direction, Isobel removed her prize from the depths of her pocket. A cigar, pilfered from her client as a petty punishment for boring her to tears. She had never tried one before but had developed a fascination with them of late, especially after learning that this man possessed one of the more expensive varieties. If there was one constant in her life, it was that Isobel preferred her items to be as rare and costly as possible.

Excited to embark on this little experiment, she struck a match and attempted to light the end only to have a gust of wind promptly extinguish the flame. Sighing in frustration around the cigar now poised precariously in her mouth, Isobel attempted to light a new match, determination written on her face.

One liked to have nicely cultivated eccentricities, after all, especially if they were expensive.