Victorian Nocturne

Jack was still moderately annoyed from his interview with the Chief Inspector, and was more determined than ever to prove the existence of werewolves. To that end, he decided to pay a visit to the London Library in hopes of perusing their shelves in search of some clue that might help in his pursuit of a certain werewolf.

Afternoon found Jack, and his research, taking up most of one table in the occult section. Though much of what he had found he either knew already or was mindless prattle, there were still the occasional tidbits that seemed credible.

He had abandoned his table for a moment in favour of the racks of books. One title in particular caught his eye: Lycanthropes and Other Mythical Creatures. He was about to remove the book from the shelf when another hand, a gloved and very feminine hand, reached for the same tome.

Jack blinked in surprise as he looked to his right and down to the brunette standing at his side. His brow creased in confusion. What could a woman possibly want with lycanthropes?

"I beg your pardon, Madam," Jack said, moving his hand back to his side.

( Read more... )

London was never truly silent, even at this hour of the night. Perhaps to the average person it was, but it was very difficult to get into the right sort of mood to be an average person if you were paranoid. The merest whispers and squeaks and trickles in the dark alleys could have been anyone. They could have meant doom. Even in these dark, empty alleys there was the lingering sense that someone was watching, listening. Someone heard quick footsteps that just barely dodged the puddles, the rustle of fabric and the occasional sound of something that sounded remarkably like a head bashing against the brick, sometimes accompanied by a stifled curse.

( Clearly, you were meant to do other things... )