Victorian Nocturne

The quiet evening of one peaceful and well mannered Victorian evening was abruptly disturbed by the very rough tongue of a clearly inebriated supposedly well to do man who hadn't liked the way in which Isaiah Matthews had spoken to his woman.

Little did he know, but Isaiah was in no shape or form interested in his woman, more her petite blonde friend. Not that an upstart of a gentleman swayed by the influence of drink would listen all that carefully to the truths of a blonde haired and blue eyed stranger.

Isaiah merely lifted his hands in what he thought would be enough of a submissive gesture to smooth obviously ruffled feathers. It worked for all of thirty seconds before that plump brunette with the awfully big mouth took it upon herself to suggest that Isaiah had insulted her good name.

Oh... dear lord.

( No Such Thing )