Lechance

Obediah had thought long and hard after Leroy LeChance had approached him with his offer. He wasn't the type to be tied to one place, after all. The longer he thought, the more the offer appealed. Run a tavern. It could suit him. He could still sing and god knew he and bars and drinking got along just fine. The only thing that twisted his gut was the thought of his father's expression if he ever found out. Obediah owning a business? He could see the gloat from here.

In the end, he'd accepted the keys.

The Black Sheep was open for business.

After confirming that Ben was agreeable, Obediah had made all the necessary arrangements. He showed up promptly at three on Tuesday, chaperon in tow and wildflowers in hand. That had been impulse - he'd seen them growing at the side of the road as they walked to the hotel.

He sent up his card to announce himself and gave the chaperon another charming smile while they waited. "Too much?" he asked and gestured to the flowers.

Effie woke in complete bewilderment, followed by fear as she felt her bed shaking. No, not just her bed, her room. The entire building. She yelped, clinging to her bed (which didn't help as that was also shaking) and followed centuries of instinct, hiding under her covers.

Once the world had stopped quaking, she peeked out timidly, then ran, snatching her cloak on the way to the door and wrapping it around herself on the way to the stairs, no stopping until she was outside and a good distance from the hotel, still surrounded by buildings, wide eyed and shaking herself, holding her cloak tightly around her, barefoot in the early morning chill and staying within sight of Ms. Sheedy and the chattering crowd of people forming in the street.

"Excuse me," she asked hesitantly of the nearest person. "What...what was that? What's happening?"

Obediah had nothing against making formal calls. Well, not really. He hated anything that meant he had to sit still for too long. And he really wasn't one for most social niceties. And sometimes the tea and the little cakes really sat wrong in his gut.

So, yes, formal calls were great. For other people.

Still, he was making nice with everyone so far and he figured it wouldn't hurt. He charmed a sweet married lady into chaperoning for this little adventure, dressed in his best leather pants (which in his case was the best at showing off his bum) and a brocade coat before riding over to the hotel on his steam cycle.

Might as well arrive in grand style.

He met Mrs. Perkins in the lobby, then sent his card up to announce to Dr. Ian McGregor that he had indeed, arrived.

( Letters to Ascendants )

( Beloved )

Jonas had had a good night's rest after the party, awaking with only a minor headache to remind him of the quantity of good whisky he had consumed. He'd stayed in his rooms above the Sheriff's office, where all his things were still lying, mostly unpacked, save for his clothes, personal grooming kit, and Digger's things.

He strolled out into the bright morning, and started out along North Street, heading towards the Square. Digger chased around Jonas' heels, seemingly more excited than the man himself about the new surroundings.

"C'mon Digger," Jonas said. "Let's go see if we can talk to a man about a horse."

A mount first, then onto the tavern for that promised drink.

He patted his thigh with his hat as he walked, attempting (and failing) to get  the dog to walk to heel, and not trip him up. He saw someone approaching them, and held his hand (and his hat) up in greeting.

"Mornin'. Lovely day, isn't it?"

The market square was covered in a large tent, glittering candles lighting up the green and the cobblestoned area. There was a feast, laid out for all new arrivals from the week before. Not all of the city were there by any means, though all had been invited. Still. The party was some 500 strong, food was readily available wine flowed, and there was dancing, a live band playing lively music.