Lechance

There had been no reply to his calling card, for which William could think of only a few reasons. The color of his skin he could do nothing about. A possible lack in his training when it came to courtship etiquette could certainly be rectified in theory but, though he knew pride to be a sin, he could not bring himself to ask for more training. The credentials of his profession he could certainly train for - the finer points of metalworking definitely needed to be added to his skill-set if he was to continue being of use to Mister MacKallister - but that was a long term plan. That left one other point of disfavor, his continued lodging with the other unhoused Ascendants, and that, at least, had a short term solution. A house had already been offered. He merely had to pick one.

Except that even this fell down, for William found himself unable to decide what exactly he was looking for. Something in the center of the town? Something further out, where town houses became country houses, became farm houses? Certainly a small garden or a plot to grow his own vegetables on would be appreciated, but he had grown sick of wide open spaces in his travels across America. The beach-front properties were out of the question, of course. This still left a number of options. Should he look for somewhere small and move (if and) when matched? Should he look for somewhere larger to keep? How many rooms did he need and of what sort? Was it better to be convenient for work or for groceries, for church or the library? Just how far could his wage be spread for necessities and upkeep?

Each time he thought he'd refound his decisiveness, a dozen extra questions occurred to him until, by mid-afternoon, he could be found wandering slowly around the streets, eyes drifting from empty house to empty house, lost in a haze of possibilities.