The surface of the tea rippled with the gust of air that accompanied with her chuckle.  “I’ve seen similar items before,” she responded to his compliment.  It wasn’t an uncommon charm for the people she frequently found herself surrounded by.  It was a handy little thing, regardless. 

Decidedly content that she would not drop dead or pass out (a charm to detect poisons and potions would work the same for either), she continued to sip, glad for the warmth it provided.  She did not appreciate the cold, dampness of late winter and early spring like others might be inclined to.  It just made for discomfort, and unless it was in pursuit of something, there was no room for discomfort in Josephine’s life. 

She raised her eyebrows at his comment though and lowered the glass and saucer to her lap, still delicately holding both in place.  “It certainly requires a false sense of security,” she nodded thoughtfully, “a certain intimacy is required to poison a person.  The victim must reasonably believe the perpetrator is either completely innocent or not suspect them at all.”

Josephine wasn’t sure she’d have the heart to do that – or the requisite amount of trust with anyone for it.  The element of surprise and a good obliviate were much better tools, in her book.  She lifted the cup again and smiled over the rim after she swallowed, “It certainly has the potential to be significantly less messy than other methods,” she considered the possibility for prolonged suffering and stomach upsets in all of that, of course, but next to blood and innards… “It could really be a toss up, depending on the circumstances." 

Ah, there were few pleasures so sweet as discussing potential murder over tea - late into the night no less. Layton held a very clear view on what was or was not considered normal. Insomuch that when he sat down to these discussions, a part of himself that represented society's norms was very much aware of aberration in such behaviour.

       “It could really be a toss up, depending on the circumstances."

"Mm," Layton agreed as he lifted his drink to take another taste of the Rooibos. "That... tragedy in December[1] was far from neat, wasn't it?"

His gaze was casual - mention of Ira's handiwork seemingly offhand - but he was testing the waters of Josephine St. Just. What exactly did she think of that month? Dark to others, simply amusing to him. The poisonings in themselves had been a test for Johann Storm. Fool of a wizard blessed with a brain he hardly deserved.

"I like it better when there is a visual reference for damage," he continued on the general subject. "As you say, poisons require intimacy. Not my speciality."

1.	Poison & Painkillers plot.

The casual way in which they discussed the finer points of poisoning would have probably come off as strange to anyone else.  To Josephine, it felt as natural as discussing the weather. 

Taking a sip of her tea, she contemplated what he was saying – last December.  Filing through the memory banks of her mind, the headlines came back to her.  It was always good to have a quasi-photographic memory.  “But still perpetrated in a place traditionally associated with trust and responsibility,” Josephine added.  It really fit the profile, didn’t it?  “Despite its relative mess, the damage potential was maximized purely based on location.  You couldn’t get the same effect at the ministry, for instance.” 

Placing her tea down on the side table, careful to mind the books – Josephine never wanted to damage a book – and curled her knees to face him better.  A smile ghosted over her features as her eyebrows shot up.  Interesting.  Very interesting.  “Then I’m assuming what happened on Guy Fawkes day would be more your speed?”[1] she asked. 

1.	Treason & Plot

He did not know who would have better liked the praise that Josephine lashed upon December's poisonings - if Ira's imagination might have been flattered, or Storm's competency. The corners of Layton's mouth resembled something akin to his genuine countenance of enjoyment. A smile reflected in dark waters. He sipped at the last of his tea, setting it down.

          "You couldn’t get the same effect at the ministry, for instance.”

"Less heartstrings are pulled," the wizard agreed, mild, and was pleased by the care his guest took in placing her china. Layton brought his legs up on to the bed, sitting back to lean a little against the foot frame. He snorted at her mention of last year's bonfire night.

Josephine wasn't technically wrong.

"Oh I think we all rue the absence of the Cauldron. That was spectacularly dramatic, wasn't it?" he laughed darkly, shaking his head. "Not as intimate as poisoning but... I'm just not imaginative enough." Layton winked - his self-deprecating words had no real sting to them, only a thin sheen of undeserved modesty.

It had been Musgrave and Almasy, of course. Layton wouldn't claim artistic property on that momentous night. "I believe that the best - I'm sorry, worst - tragedies happen one-on-one. In a locked room, and nobody's watching..." he mused and met Josephine in the eye, playfully looking for a reaction.

 “It was a charming institution,” Josephine concluded in the most insincere eulogy anyone could have uttered for a London staple.  But, it had never quite been her speed: too many people, not enough dark corners.  It didn’t suit her at all, but that didn’t mean she particularly liked the idea of it going to bits. “I’ve heard it’s opening up again next month.” 

Idle news from the Prophet, but still relevant to the conversation at hand.  “Thankfully, I’ve also heard its also highly unlikely lightening strikes in the same place twice, so the reopening should be relatively uneventful.”  It was a bland observation, and rather unsympathetic considering the casualty count. Coincidentally, caring too deeply was also something that wasn’t up to speed for her.   

Josephine’s Mona Lisa smile crept back over her face.  She tucked her knees under her and pressed her palm against the mattress, moving to sit up and on her knees.  She hummed in appreciation and reached up to run her hand through her hair.  “And you said intimacy wasn’t your specialty?” she teased, tilting her chin downward.  “Just one of the many lies you’ve told me this evening, isn’t it?”

Laughing to herself, she leaned forward and caught his lips in a surprise kiss.  It was soft, but lingered until she pulled back, voice low.  “Perhaps,” she wet her bottom lip and continued, “you might have a story about one of these… behind closed door… tragedies?”

Layton nodded, making a vague sound at the mention of the Cauldron's grand re-opening next month. He was toying with the idea of attending that event - even if only to take a gander at which of its victims would return to the scene of the crime. But Ira had been unwell of late. It was difficult to pull himself away from her side when there was still so much to be done before...

           "And you said intimacy wasn’t your specialty? Just one of the many lies you’ve told me this evening, isn’t it?"

Clever girl. Josephine tread that blurred line, not assuming enough to provoke and yet forward enough to let on that she wasn't an idiot. In his experience, women rarely were. The fairer sex had many historical disadvantages; each one compensated by an instinct to survive the lunacy of men.

Layton reached out a hand, tracing soft circles against the skin of her elegant ankles. "Straight truths are boring," he suggested just before her lips came against his. And then he smiled when she stayed there, tasting of smokey tea and sleep. A bribe in exchange for story time?

Oh, his services cost more than that. Layton slid his fingers up the sweet swell of her calves and met her in the eye.

"I might have one, if I weren't so distracted." The wizard leaned his head down to press a kiss to her bare knee. "But I think we can easily solve that."