InsaneJournal

Léon irritably flicked through the latest dispatches on his lap. He'd been irritable and short-tempered for days, suspicious and he was fed up with it. He didn't know what letters had been read, which had been copied or paraphrased back to the Council. He had toyed with the idea of having all of Elisamarie's correspondences opened and read, but he knew he could not do that. Not without Jacques interference, and that would bring up questions he was uncomfortable about answering.

He was irritated, annoyed, had slept badly for several nights in a row, and saw little he could do to amend the situation while saving his own neck. He needed to relax, to forget everything for the next hour or so, and hope that once calm, a situation would present itself.

The carriage stopped at the far end of Upper Bridge Street, the road sloping downwards towards the river, and Léon bid the driver not to wait. He folded the papers, tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket, gathered up his hat, and made his way towards the Theatre, nodding to the young man on the door. "Nell is in and expecting me, I hope?" He said, glancing around the small entrance hall and ticket office.