Victorian Nocturne

Fox had managed to find an old-fashioned walking stick in the sitting room of the Taylor house, and she looked at it critically after wiping the dust off of it with one of the sheets covering the furniture. It wasn't what she was used to, but it would suit. If she was to be shut behind these walls for however long, she preferred to have something to defend herself with.

"I should imagine this is a bit of an inconveinence for ye, Father," she said to Verdoux as she got ready for this scavenging trip of theirs. "Tis certainly not how I expected to spend my own day." She felt a little guilty at once again trying to deceive a man of the cloth, but there was no help for it just now. There never seemed to be any help for it ever, really. "Guess a man never knows what's goin' to happen when he rises for work in the morning."

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