Liadán had not seen Mr. Whitman in quite some time. She had decided that she was nothing but a replacement of Aileen. Others had been making comparisons, and Liadán had allowed them to bother her. She had drastically decreased her interactions with him and contact, and at this point it had tapered off. If Liadán had her way, she would have continued her lack of contact with him. Her feelings had not changed- she was still quite fond of him, found Oscar incredibly handsome, and had been hoping for something to develop.

When her house elves had been cleaning her estate, however, they had discovered a cufflink. Liadán recognized it immediately as belonging to Oscar Whitman, and struggled with the decision of what to do. It was an obviously expensive piece- but Mr. Whitman was not known for having cheap tastes. Liadán was concerned if she owled the piece back to him that it might get lost. Going to his home would be incredibly inappropriate. Which left Liadán with few options.

Owling him for a meeting seemed a tad pretentious, and would prolong the interaction more than was necessary. Thus, Liadán found herself at the Ministry of Magic. She had decided the quickest way to do this would be to bring the cufflink to Oscar at work. The setting would be less likely to cause any undue stress or awkwardness. It might be a bit inappropriate to show up unannounced, but hardly as inappropriate as going to his home or having an owl lose the cufflink.

Liadán made her way to Oscar's office. She breezed past his assistant/receptionist, and into his office. She stopped abruptly when she saw him sitting at a desk. Liadán felt something catch in her gut, and suddenly she felt foolish and impulsive. She dropped her gaze to the floor, and spoke quietly. "I apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Whitman. I know you are quite busy and do not intend to take up more of your time than is necessary... However, I found one of your cuff-links at my estate and wanted to return it to you." It sounded absolutely ridiculous when she said it aloud. Liadán blushed, and kept her eyes shifted toward the ground.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Oscar Whitman's quill flew over the the parchment in front of him, his words taking shape for the brief he was writing for an upcoming Wizengamot session. When he was preparing such things, he hated to be bothered because often it would ruin his flow. Thus, Oscar had instructed his assistant to keep anyone from bothering him during certain hours when he was in the office. She could tell a visitor to wait, she could schedule an appointment for someone, or she could even rudely turn them away with no explanation for all he cared, but he did not have the time nor patience to deal with anything outside of words on paper.

He had gotten so used to not being bothered that when his door opened that he barely looked up. If his assistant was dropping something off, she would do so and then leave. But looking again, Oz realized that it wasn't his assistant standing on the other side of his desk.

At first, his expression was blank as he stared at the young, blonde witch. But then he narrowed his eyes and his lips twisted into a disapproving line. As she began to speak, he released a sigh and tried to patiently listen.

He heard a bit about the cuff and the apology for intruding, but she lost him after that. Instead, Oz's thoughts went to her absence in the last few months. Her reasoning had been silly in his eyes and he attributed the irrationality behind it to her age relative to his own.

Oz did not like wasting his time; everything he did had a purpose. So for her to say that she was just a replacement for his ex-wife was a madness of another kind. Yes, her physical appearance did harken back to a younger version of Aileen. But her personality and values and outlook for the future was entirely different. Liadan's differences were precisely why she had appealed to him. Oz would hardly spend time with a woman who was only a mere shadow of Aileen Reid.

As only a Whitman could, he demanded more.

When Liadan finally went silent, Oz abruptly stood. "Miss O'Morain," he began crisply with a nod. "My profound thanks to you for returning my lost item. Sadly, I fear that your trip here may have been wasted," he informed her with a trace of icy woe. "Its' match has been discarded long ago and my affections turned to another, newer interest."

Liadan's gaze lifted when he informed her that her trip was a wasted one. Any trace of embarrassment faded from her features as she gave him a stony glare. That the other cufflink had been discarded was of little consequence, but when he so proudly announced that his affections had been shifted, Liadan couldn't help the way her posture stiffened. Did he dare think she made the trip simply to rekindle the romance that had seemed to be blossoming? It was rude, childish even, the way he would verbalize such an assumption without any prodding from her end. She should have thrown the damn thing out instead of attempting to return it to him. Of course, now she realized how foolish she had been, but hind-sight always was 20/20.

"If you are insinuating, Mr. Whitman, that your cuff-link was some sort of a ruse- an excuse to see you- you are sadly mistaken. As I do every Thursday, I came to London for business. I felt that returning the piece in person was the better course of action- lest an owl lose it. My coming to your home would hardly have been appropriate. If I were to make some attempt to vie for your misplaced affections, you may rest assured that I would never stoop so low as to come to your place of work. In fact, Mr. Whitman, you may rest assured that I would never take the risk of being so forward- as it is incredibly unladylike and goes against the very nature of my breeding."

The audacity of the man! Certainly, it had been some months, but that he would think of her as so easily replaceable, perhaps she was better off in the long run to have cut him loose. She could not help but idly wonder if this new woman in his life (as she had decided to interpret his meaning in the phrase "newer interest") was yet another clone of his ex-wife. A small, blond, pureblood woman with excellent taste and class. Perhaps he was not as over Miss Reid as he would lead others to believe. She had done a tango upon his heart- a rather vicious one- but Liadan had decided his heart still beat for the woman regardless of that fact.

"I am quite insulted that you would think I had an ulterior motive, Mr. Whitman. I have no need in my life for such childish behavior." She might, at times, regret her decision to let a man like Oscar Whitman go- especially when he would do nothing but improve upon her recently sullied image- but she would never admit to such a fact.

Liadan smoothed out the skirt of her dress, keeping eyes glued to his. She would not falter- and let him win whatever game he must be playing at. Interactions in pureblood society were always riddled with rules and etiquette. Liadan would not have him think of her as a weak individual- she was, after all, anything but.

Oz watched with certain glee -- as only he could -- when he had managed to get under someone's skin, which clearly was the case given Liadan's response. Nevermind that she may have been justified in her reaction to what his words implied. Oz was operating on love hating auto-pilot.

He advanced with a cocky ease and purpose round his desk and proceeded perch on one of the front corners, his hardened gaze intent on the slight woman before him. Did what she say really matter any more to him? Or had her cold shoulder in the past few months chilled his affections for her so drastically that he was intent to build up his walls to prevent any warmth from creeping back in.

The easiest thing to do was to deflect all of her accusations back on her.

"So you did not come here with any other purpose than to return my cufflink?" he questioned, his tone skeptical of her claims. "Surely you must know, Liadan, that a cufflink cannot hope to hold my favor long. It is merely a thing. It is replaceable." He gestured to her where she stood so indignantly. "If you truly wished to no longer see me because you felt you were just a replacement Aileen, by all means, you could have stayed away." He jerked his hand dismissively. "Tossed the thing away without another thought. And I would have known nothing of it."

Oz left his perch, unfolding his Whitman frame and standing to his full height. He moved towards Liadan slowly, looking down on her with his icy stare. Leaning close, his next words were spoken in a hiss.

"You are insulted? I have very little sympathy for someone who is intent on believing that I am still pining over my ex-wife. If I wanted Aileen Reid to be mine again, I assure you, my dear, that nothing would stop me from making that happen." Oz's voice was more emphatic. And filled with conceit. "Be insulted all you want," he declared dismissively. "But it is by your hand, not mine."

"To think, I considered you a gentleman," she responded, crossing her arms, tone flat and indifferent. "Forgive me for thinking it appropriate to return a lost item to you. I assure you that I will never make such a mistake in the future. It is obvious that common decency is lost upon a man as important as Oscar Bloody Whitman."

To think such a simple act would leave her so very humiliated. Did he get pleasure out of such behavior? Such meaningless torture upon an innocent woman? "By my hand?" Liadan nearly shouted, indignant. "I am insulted by you and your actions! I have been nothing but kind and giving to you, Mr. Whitman! Even this exchange- where I was attempting to simply to do something nice has turned into you belittling me. I know for a fact you were taught better manners, and to think you would behave with such cruelty out of spite." She turned up her nose at him, as haughtily as such a small woman could.

"I thought you were a better person than that. That you were, perhaps, different, in some small way, from my usual suitors- apparently, I was wrong. Perhaps there was more to your rejection than my own insecurities about your ex-wife and our similarities. Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Whitman, that perhaps the fact you tend to behave like a complete ass is your true undoing?" It wasn't. He'd never really been mean to her when they were seeing one another. But if he was capable of treating her like this without provocation, Liadan wasn't sure that she wanted to waste anymore time on their pointless romance.

"It is no wonder you are perpetually single if you find it necessary to fling such nasty insults and cruel words at women who have done you no wrong. I have done nothing wrong here, Mr. Whitman, despite what you may believe. If i have bruised your ego, then that is your own fault. I do not recall any reassurance from you or attempts at persuading me to feel otherwise on the matter of the comparisons of myself to your ex-wife. My mother always told me never to settle for being second best, and she also told me that a man once married is ruined forever. I should have listened to those words. Perhaps my other suitors have not been as worthy as a Whitman. Perhaps less handsome, less refined, less wealthy, less powerful... But never has any other man treated me with such obvious disdain and disrespect."

Liadan gathered up her skirts in her hand, and narrowed her eyes. "I will not stand here and be so mistreated for my attempts at doing a good deed. I should have simply tossed the cufflink in the trash where it apparently belongs- right next to you!"

Oz raised his brows when she seemed to make a fuss about him not being the gentleman she once thought. "A gentleman," he murmured, his voice laced with mild amusement. He nodded with understanding. "Of course. You want to live in a fantasy world where princes and kings -- even magical ones -- are subject to the will of a noble heart." Oz emphasized his words by placing his hand over the very thing he spoke of.

Oz stood his ground where he was, not too far from her. But he dropped his intense Whitman gaze to his wrist, where his shirt sleeve was poking out from  his jacket. He fingered the current cufflink that he wore, one that shone with a noticeable "W". With an eery calmness, he told her, "It's obvious that you don't know me as well as you thought. For me, this has never been about something as trivial as a cufflink, Liadan."

He finally looked up again, his features darkening in a way that they tended to when he was intent on arguing something that he believed very strongly in.But every time Oz went to cut into what she was saying, Liadan continued on in her indignant and haughty way, barely giving him a chance to get a word in edgewise.

Merlin's Beard! She was exhausting!

After what seemed like an eternity of words being hurled at him and then Liadan appearing to pick up her skirts for a swift exit, Oz quickly advanced, his hand shooting out to catch her by an arm as he pulled her back.

Oz cared very little for the deathly glare he was surely to get for the move. Instead, he gruffly supplied her with, "And now that we've both said our piece..."

And without any further warning, Oz bent his head and planted his lips firmly on hers, intent on seeing for himself if they burned as hotly as she did right that very moment!

Liadán barely heard him mention the triviality of the cufflink. And she had continued to speak over him when he tried to defend himself. Quite honestly, she had little interest in hearing what Oscar Whitman had to say. He had wounded her.  As she made her moved to leave his office- Liadán was caught quite off guard by the sudden grip to her forearm, one which pulled her back, forcing her to face him. How dare he! Who did Oscar Whitman think he was- handling her with such force and impropriety? The look that Liadán gave Oscar would have killed a weaker man. That he kept his grip on her arm, despite her glare, was surprising- but moreso, it was infuriating.

But before she could get out any loud objections, Oscar was... Kissing her? Her eyes flew wide open, and with her free hand she made a fist, and pounded it in indignant protest against his chest. Yet even as she beat upon his chest, Liadán felt her eyes slide closed. Merlin, it was a wonderful feeling. Her fist weakened, and instead she pressed her hand, open palmed against him, and leaned into his body. She was glad for the strong arm that was suddenly about her waist, appearing at the same moment her knees weakened and threatened to give out on her.

Liadán had never allowed anybody to kiss her the way that Oscar was. Chaste pecks upon the lips had been permitted- begrudgingly- to suitors in the past. But this was all together different, and finally Liadán understood why her friends raved on and on about an activity she had previously thought to be all together disgusting. Suddenly Liadán wished she had been more practiced- that she knew what to do with her hands, her body- and more importantly, with her mouth. But she didn't. And as Oscar finally pulled his lips away, Liadán began to feel flustered, embarrassed, unworthy. What she wanted to do- more than anything- was look up at him, smile sweetly, and make him do it again.

What she did instead was bury her head into his chest, anything to hide the red of her cheeks and the anxiety in her eyes. Her legs were still jelly, and if she tried to step away she would, no doubt, fall to the floor. She had zero desire to give Oscar Whitman the satsifaction of knowing that he had- quite literally- swept her off her feet. Liadán would no doubt never hear the end of it. And, just like that, the idea of a future with Oz was reborn.