Dress

Following the Harper-Morgan St. Patrick's Day dinner, and Juliette's disappointment that she couldn't keep Hannah out of school for a night or two, the Potions Mistress had contented herself with getting to know others in Landis' family: namely his devilish cousin with the equally devilish hair. Darian had appeared to take an interest in the librarian's dinner date, and for that Juliette's own interest was peaked; besides, what wasn't there to love about a savvy redhead who liked to tease Landis?

Sitting in the cafe, where wine and coffee shared equal real estate on the overtly French menu, Juliette waited for Mr. Morgan-- the other one-- to show his face.

Espresso or wine?

Why not both?

Juliette ordered the latter, deciding a jolt caffeine would be just what she needed by the end of the divulging chat she hoped to have about a certain flaxen-haired someone in both their lives. It was fair game, though! Why shouldn't know a secret or seven two about the man who shared her bed? It was only an innocent curiosity... a natural inclination to hear what a longtime spectator might have to say. It was harmless. (And potentially a drop lethal.)

Darian

She was not kept waiting long. Darian Morgan's entrance was hasty, but it left people staring in his wake.

He swept into the cafe with long quick strides, light eyes seeking her out and crinkling in a smile. It was a nice smile, while it lasted; by the time he'd sat with a flourish in all his brocaded glory across from her it had shifted into something more along the lines of a cat who'd caught a canary. Not that Darian thought Juliette was a canary; the woman was much too lovely to be one of those simple tawdry birds. He raked his cousin's paramour with a long approving look that he did not bother to hide. Simple and elegant, she was waiting with wine and, had he been a bore, he might have divested her of her glass; both she and the wine looked delicious.

"Juliette Vaillancourt," he said, his voice soft but his tone grand, as if her name were some sort of amazing announcement. Possibly, to Darian, it was. He bent his ginger head towards hers and rested his chin on his folded hands; all ten of his fingers were studded with rings. "What a pleasure and a delight it was to receive your recent owl."

"Darian, you flatter me," Juliette replied, blue eyes absorbing the moneyed Morgan in all his glory-- which was a lot. But her childish stare was less devious than his own, more curious. She gave him a tiny, friendly smirk. "I feel under-dressed." She tilted her head to the side just so, before motioning for a waiter to bring Darian his own cup.

"I am glad you could make an appearance, though. It was so lovely to meet you at the... family reunion." If it could be called that. "We're such a sparse species, aren't we?" She asked, fingers raking through her hair as she lifted her wand to pour him a glass. "Would you prefer another year?" Her eyes moved to the label, a vintage red. Landis liked red, and so did Juliette. And Darian... well, he looked as if he could bathe in red and manage to not be seen as gauche.

Sipping lightly, she reached for the menus the waiter had brought, but did not crack one open. Instead she kept her eyes on the man who was so unlike Landis, and yet so subtly evocative of things that made him the blue-blooded, sharp-cheeked thing he was: the long form, the nimble fingers, the fluidity. "What have you been up to since we met? I never did learn what you do, exactly." She paused, and considered him. "I forgot to mention to Landis that we would be meeting, or I would have asked him more about you," she lied with easy grace, so that both of them knew she had meant to do no such thing. "But then, he's very quiet about... certain things."

Darian gave her a grin, smoothing perfunctory fingers over his shirtfront and grazing the edge of his blazer, which was surely the loudest piece of his ensemble. "Oh, don't. You know I'd be delighted to make you a matching one. Well. You know now."  His strong Cardiff accent ran away with the words, lilting and sweet, but he seemed quieter than at the family reunion, where with his first act he'd swept a squealing Hannah over his shoulder and darted in for a suicidal kiss to Landis' glacial cheek. Well, understandable. Darian was flashy, but here he had only Juliette to play to. He saved his sweeping gesticulations and expressions of delight for this one table, which was fortunate, as the rest of the cafe had only just stopped staring at his outrageous jacket and angelic curls. "Besides, m'dear, I very much doubt my poor candle can be held anywhere near that of yours."

He fluttered his fingers in response to the query about the wine, dismissing the year as unimportant - Darian would drink anything. "It's terrible," he agreed. "Our scarcity. A dying breed indeed. But that is not, I think, the reason for your interest."

They both knew the reason for her "interest," and perhaps this could have been the prelude to more serious stuff had she not brought up his occupation. Darian was not adverse to further smalltalk. Much less adverse, in fact, than to serious stuff. His eyes flickered to the table and then back up, coyly, as if to display himself. Which, when he spoke, showed that that was precisely what he meant to do.

"Why, I'm a tailor. I have my own business in Diagon Alley making dress robes, evening wear and the like." And he made his own designs, of course. Father's money or no, there was no way to support his selective taste in clothing if he wasn't making the things himself. Not that everything he made followed the track of what he was currently wearing. On the contrary, he made perfectly ordinary suits and perfectly ordinary dresses as well, always with a slight flare, or with a certain modern sort of thinking, for those customers with less dramatic taste than himself - robes to fit the modern witch or wizard. His tailoring, he would say, was impeccable. Speaking of impeccable: "And may I say I admired greatly the dress you wore to same-such reunion, in - of course - a strictly professional sense."

 "I forgot to mention to Landis that we would be meeting, or I would have asked him more about you. But then, he's very quiet about... certain things."

Darian's lips quirked into a curve Cupid would admire. "Indeed," he said with mock solemnity. "Landis is most taciturn." The look he gave her, knowing and amused,  clearly indicated his complete lack of ignorance as to the exact purpose of this little visit.
 

Compliments and promises of finery? They would get along splendidly. "A tailor." Juliette tried it on for size, liking the way it sounded. "You wouldn't happen to be... Landis' tailor?" Ah, now there was a revelation! "I've spent ages trying to find out who makes those lovely shirts I'm always... borrowing... but he doesn't seem especially pleased to have me wear them to classes. Silly man." Like anyone would find out. (In other words, everyone would find out. And some people already had.)

He knew her well already, it seemed: Juliette wasn't sure whether it was a lucky thing or a dangerous one that he wasn't phased by her small talk. It made getting to the point easier, yes, but it also meant putting up a guard of her own. Darian seemed to have a talent for quick reading, and it was as smooth as his tongue.

"Well, I'm sure you could make an even lovelier dress," she offered.

She opened the menu, glancing at the familiar language and parenthesized translations. She tapped her wand over a salad before looking up at Darian again, matching his glance, but not his smile. "Well, there is nothing I can hide from you, is there?" She asked, both knowing the answer and wondering whether she might not find a way. "I am a little curious-- you'll have to forgive me, but... there are things one wants to know about a lover, even a casual one. Women, anyway. I think Landis would prefer not to know my past... and he certainly doesn't want me delving into his. But why is he so very secretive about his old bedfellows if he's never been interested in anything beyond... a little fun?" She tilted her head again, wetting her lips. She knew the answer; they both did. "He did mention one woman whom he-- seems to regret taking to bed. It wasn't as if she was a muggle." Nor was it any of Juliette's business. But she was becoming a little too interested in Landis of late."Was she? A muggle," she mused, humored by the idea of such a man doing such a thing. He hardly seemed the type...

"Sometimes. I give a family discount." Stealing his shirts, was she, and so soon? Ah, Darian approved of that. He specialized in men's clothing, so as for a better-fitting dress... "Perhaps, perhaps not. But I can make you every dress shirt you'd ever need, if you promise to wear them with the tags out." He winked at her, supremely comfortable in her company and this cafe even as he shifted to lace one long leg over the other. He did like Juliette. It took a certain type of woman to put up with Landis; if she had a fiery nature to match her red hair, she'd be set. And Darian thought she might. Owling him, now, that was not a tactic any other had used.

"Landis is secretive about everything," he said, amused. "It took me twenty minutes just to get his shoe size. I wouldn't worry yourself. But before we delve into matters of the heart and mind as pertaining one blonde cousin mine, I think we need to settle the matter of price." He offered her a smile and a sly little look from under lowered lashes. "Secrecy is a Morgan family trait, you know. Extortion is another." He'd thought of other approaches - telling her she had three questions, telling her everything for free - but no. It was practically an obligation for him to behave this way, and Landis would be even more disappointed in him if he didn't manage to get something out of her for his precious information. Landis might be a puzzle to those who didn't know better, but Darian was not running a charity here. Besides, she might not last, and what she'd asked about not even Landis knew he knew.

"And who doesn't love a good price?" She imagined Landis bargain shopping, or bartering with his tailor-- with Darian-- and thought twice. Still, it was hilarious enough a thought to keep it up. "Now that I know Landis' little secret..." Or not. Not the secret she'd come for, but certainly a start to a fine evening. (If also a daunting one.) She grinned. "Tags out? That's bold, Darian, but wouldn't you rather people have to ask? My father says exclusivity is Merlin's gift to men with deep pockets." Men indulged in things they didn't think other men could hope to have, let alone afford.

Juliette held in a breathy laugh behind the top of her wine glass. Landis' shoe size. If she hadn't climbed out of his bed enough times to peak around his closet, she mightn't have known it either. As it were, Juliette knew more than enough about Landis' measurements to be pleased.

Matters of the heart and mind.

Juliette felt a prickle on her neck, a pin prick against the back of her hand. It was a strange way of putting it, but an honest one. A bluntly honest one.

"I think we need to settle the matter of price... Secrecy is a Morgan family trait, you know. Extortion is another."

"What do you command? Animal, vegetable, mineral? I do have some connections in the perfume field..." She tilted her head. "But let me start by buying you dinner." Gesturing to the menu, Juliette smiled accommodatingly. "Mr. Extortionist," she added politely, seeming to remember her graces.

"Bold as brass," he agreed. "But you are a very beautiful woman, Juliette; I wouldn't want potential clients so intimidated they dare not ask the name of your talented tailor. I am only saving you and they the trouble of that indelicate little question." Darian played a little game with his clients sometimes, when he was bored. One might share the name of a tailor, but one would never name the price, and so bouyed by his father's money Darian had the luxority of applying "discounts" at his leisure. A man might come in a teensy bit more arrogant than he ought to be - another might flirt - and though they recieved two robes of the exact same cut, color, and cloth, one would be a little lighter of pocket than the other when they left. The rich were always willing to pay what they thought they deserved, and they had such a high opinion of themselves to start with; besides, Darian thought moralty standards were such a bore. Juliette would recieve a good price, should she come to see him. Landis recieved a good price too, although included in that price was that he wasn't allowed to sneer while in the shop; Darian liked to see that man suffer. Such as he would when next he removed Juliette's dress and saw Darian's name. If Darian had had less resolve, he might have cackled. But no, no, he mustn't alarm Juliette while he still had use for her.

"But let me start by buying you dinner."

"You are a delight," he informed her lazily, and ran his gaze over the menu. He did not seem inclined to further discuss the price until after the waiter had come and taken their order, at which point he leaned forward, chin on folded hands, and gave her a dazzling smile. Perfume was a tempting prospect to a man of tastes as extravagent and expensive as his, but Darian had known he'd ask for since he'd sat down. Animal, yes. Oh, definitely.

"Such a well-mannered lady you are," he said cheerfully. "Makes me feel a right cad. I command a kiss, m'lady, and then I will answer every question I can." His smile was back, dazzling as ever, but there was a sweet slyness about his lowered eyes and the way he laid a hand to his heart in promise.

Juliette rolled her eyes; she was confident in her appearance, to be sure, but far to jaded by promising men and prudish women to believe that people would be afraid to spend their money where she did. If anything, beauty inspired-- and Juliette's beauty had proved an advantage for most of her life, if she were being honest. Clearly the eyes on the pair of redheads was no indication of anything otherwise.

She knew that look. That tone. For Darian's singularity among men, he was still in possession of XY chromosomes. His eyes gave him away before his bold demands. But still, in public... Juliette was torn between smirking and lifting a brow, between painting a face of modest shock and cackling at the evilness of it. Not that an innocent little kiss for such a handsome soul was a particular challenge; the evil part was underneath, the slope he would make her teeter on. He was planting the stakes high, and it was only the beginning.

What if she wanted to know more?

Juliette didn't pause to consider it for too long, less he up the collateral. She knew enough about business to know how much confidence and haste were worth. Every question, she reminded herself silently, deciding to hold him to it. She matched his eyes, glance for glance, and stood up, her smile very small, very appropriate in its subtlety. "This will remain between us, I hope," she murmured as she took two steps around the table and leaned down to meet Darian's face. Once more her eyes traced over his, back and forth and unblinking; her breath was warm and sweet as she assessed him with slightly parted lips.

A hand unlaced at the base of his neck, and Juliette drew him to her, her head tilted enough to make it amorous in appearance-- which was everything at a time like this, she supposed-- and pressed her pillowy lips to his, leaving the slightest ripple of rose in her wake when she pulled away. Standing a touch straighter, she moved her hand to under his jaw, held it delicate as a cloud, and used her thumb to gingerly displace the lipstick. She returned to her seat, and smiled, close-mouthed.

"Who is his past mistake?" She asked bluntly after a moment's pause, as if it were an everyday question.

Despite her worries, Darian had no intention of upping the stakes. He did not need anything more, and he was curious - a single kiss was revealing enough. A kiss from a pretty lady was all the perk he needed; he was no petty scoundrel. Well, all right, he was a perfect little lustful monster, but not in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

"This will remain between us, I hope."

"You wound me," he breathed against her lips, a split second before she kissed him. He had not expected such a sweet presentation; he had expected to name his price and then have to take it, leaning across the table for a quick press of lips while she pretended mild disapproval. But that she'd taken the initiative... ah, it was a pity Landis had gotten to her first. Darian's opinion of the woman had just gone up several notches. Of course it was not the kiss he'd been testing so much as her willingness to give one, but presentation was everything. Especially the swipe of the thumb to remove her lipstick - his lower lip still tingled - yes, that was a nice touch. How very smooth.

She resumed her seat, and he settled back into his, not having done anything so uncouth or ungentlemanly as to try and deepen the kiss. Earlier he had been all quick smiles and extravagent gestures - now he was like a banked fire, something in motion that had, for the moment, stopped. There was nothing but a spark of new appreciation in the way he looked at her, patiently waiting for business to start. After her blunt question, there was not even that.

"I assume you don't mean Dazmond." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and continued as if musing aloud, his manner lazy, unhurried, but his mind terribly sharp. "You know about Dazmond, don't you? She's hardly a secret. Broke his stoic little teenage heart.  But, you see, there was another girl, and I think this may be the one you mean. Another... " Flash of teeth. "Friend. A big mistake. An adult dilemma. He was so predictable in that way. What did he tell you - how did you know he had such a mistake? Specify for me, darling, before I break his trust for nothing. Perhaps I am thinking of the wrong ex-lover." Darian was not being kind and he knew it, but no one had ever accused him of kindness. Juliette had paid the price and she would recieve her information, delivered straight off the tip of his poisonous tongue... family or not.

(Changing the date of this to before the party.)

Juliette was pleased. Darian made no further trickster demands, and seemed, judging by his silence, properly satisfied. If she had been a less confident woman, her ego would now be soaring; a handsome and elegant man had apparently approved of her kissing skills. As it were, she was comfortable in her skin, and rather sure of her talents where men were concerned. Still, there was the question of Darian's own choice of company... and his ulterior motives in locking lips with Juliette.

She pushed that aside.

Tilting her head, she frowned just barely. "Dazmond?" She echoed. If she didn't mean Dazmond-- Darian had assumed she did not-- that meant there was more than one hurtle. Ghosts never died, Juliette knew. And if there was any ghost that was like to haunt a person's halls, it was the ghost of lovers past. "Broke his heart?" She asked, her frown becoming a slightly disbelieving smile. The confusion wouldn't be lost on Darian. And if Juliette neglected to add that detail into her question-- the adjective 'teenage'-- what woman could blame her? Landis was still young. "He's never spoken of this Dazmond creature." The name did sound oddly familiar, however.

She was about to tell him to go on, but he began to speak of the supposed mistake Juliette had asked about. She thought carefully, and smirked to cover any doubt. "How many ex lovers could he possibly have, that you could be wrong?" Perhaps she had been rash in wanting to know these dirty details. She remembered her first encounter with Landis, when Graham Bombay had thought her his hired escort; and then the Potions laboratory, when an explosion had revealed a similar taste in jewelry to her own. Such a mystery at the time, and even more of one now.

The woman narrowed her eyes, feeling her temper swell in her chest. She let it calm down before she spoke again. "You promised to tell me whatever I asked if I gave you what you wanted. We both know you're past the point of breaking Landis' trust, or you wouldn't have accepted my invitation. Tell me who she is. It doesn't matter how I know." Something about coffee cups, handcuffs, and casual fireside discussions of past lovers. It was one of her sweeter recent memories, and she didn't plan to share it with anyone, least of all because the door had been locked not once, but twice that afternoon. Juliette had no intention of bringing up her own past, either, but perhaps it was a naive and hotheaded position.

'"Dazmond? ...Broke his heart?"

Amusement flickered over Darian's face. "You're the new Potions mistress, and you haven't heard of Dazmond Weidman?" He took a hefty sip of wine, waved a languid hand. "Well, no matter. She's married now." He said this with the same dismissive tone as one would say, oh, that bomb's disarmed or don't worry, the dragon's been deflamed.

As for his number of ex lovers... Darian sniffed. Less than him, certainly. He did not keep a list.

"You promised to tell me whatever I asked if I gave you what you wanted. We both know you're past the point of breaking Landis' trust, or you wouldn't have accepted my invitation. Tell me who she is. It doesn't matter how I know."

His eyes narrowed, just before his expression smoothed out. Darian tsk'ed lightly, possibly in annoyance that she hadn't taken his bait. And just like that his playful mood was gone.  "Dolly St. James. Four years ago; I don't know when it ended or began. They kept it very quiet, probably to avoid the attention of the tabloids. I may have been the only one to know." It was all quite traumatizing, really. Four years ago he'd made a firecall on Landis' apartment, only to walk into something Landis very much did not want him to see. Darian had been so disappointed in Dolly. He had been a year ahead of her in school - a rather disappointing specimen of girl, really - but she had grown up to be quite a woman. So glamorous! So fun. He had expected better of her than his dour cousin. Dazmond's seconds, too. Ick.

“I know who she is. I did not know they’re one in the same.” But how many Dazmonds could there be in their small, exclusive world? Of course, Juliette had heard of her. Even in Paris, she’d known who she was. Most Potioneers who did not so much care for the law knew who she was. But Juliette had not painted Landis’ friends to be this woman. She had not, until recently, painted them at all. The idea of Landis Morgan putting his trust in... anyone... was a bit of stretch. But if he were going to do so, it would surely be a person like himself. And, more to the point, a man. But a woman who had once broken his heart.

Juliette relaxed her knitted brows. The moon-pale skin between them relaxed, smooth as ever. “If I had a galleon for every married woman who dabbled outside her matrimony...” And a knut for every man who did not care about such things, she’d match the women galleon for galleon. Best not get too worked up, though. Darian was the sort to smell weakness in a person-- man, woman, or child-- and exploit it from leagues away. It was his talent as much as tailoring, she knew, and she had only met him twice.

She had been brash, perhaps, and overly demanding. But Juliette was not a plain woman, and, outside of certain... activities... she was not a compliant woman, either.

She’d paid, and now she wanted what she’d paid for. Much as she had delighted in their little games, in the dark corners of the castle she shared with Landis, she was not entirely without ease. Hypothetically, it was the perfect affair; they fulfilled each other’s needs, nothing more, nothing less. But Juliette was a human, and she had a heart. She also had a temper, a possessive side, a need to know the shrouded details whose absence had been evading her whilst attracting her to Landis.

"Dolly St. James."

The answer he gave was not one she had been prepared to hear. Oh, but it was such a small world. Juliette’s cheeks colored just barely, before draining promptly, and finally resuming their natural milky color.

"Four years ago; I don't know when it ended or began. They kept it very quiet, probably to avoid the attention of the tabloids. I may have been the only one to know."

“I know her,” she spoke carefully. “I helped design her signature fragrance.” And for all she knew, Landis might have been slumbering in the next room. It was a strange feeling. So how did his tastes run? Was Juliette like Dolly, or Dolly like Juliette? Or neither, and both? And what of this other woman... “All this time and no one said a word? You don’t find it strange he isn’t in her novels?” They were not her usual taste, but Juliette had read them; Dolly was a friend and business partner, and they had come to respect each other’s success. “Perhaps she’s protecting him. But... why?”

She took a sip of her wine to calm her tongue, the temper herself, to pace the conversation. Already, she had proved to invested, and her questions only brought more to the mind. No doubt Darian thought her ridiculous. But why should Juliette care what he thought. Only because it could destroy her. He was rich in his father’s gold, and richer in secrets.

He shrugged. He knew it was so. Not for Landis and Dazmond - Dazmond was, so he heard, quite taken with her dirty-blooded husband. As a pureblood it must have been difficult for her to marry him. Her parents would have been shocked, her friends the same - no, she wouldn't throw that away now. But he let Juliette think what she willed. She was asking him for facts, not advice, and while she'd end up with a little of both it was more fun to let her learn this herself.

Ah, the plot thickened! Darian did not smile, but he soaked her words up, I know her, I helped design her signature fragrance, why did no one say a word.It was a satisfying reaction to such an incindiary name.

"Oh, he is in there," he said smoothly, delighting in this chance to drip speculation in her ear. Darian did so love to gossip. "The first novel, at least - a background character, another Slytherin boy, but her way of describing him was distinctive enough for myself and anyone else who knew what close company Dolly and Dazmond kept to recognize." Darian had a knack for surveillence of the sneakiest kind, and for foul reasons or fair he'd always kept an eye on his younger Harper cousin. Placing the calm blonde boy with his careful habits and his quick tongue had been so very easy when one could still remember the three of them, attached at the hip, in school. "After I mocked him half to death for it he finally told me he'd gone to her and demanded she leave him out of her future novels. I didn't know it at the time, but he must have been mad at the thought of losing his precious privacy."

Silly boy. Darian would've loved to been in Dolly's novels, although they had never known each other so well - but once names and details had been changed, Landis would have been perfectly safe. Leave out that he was her best friend's ex, and not even Dazmond might have known. Darian made a tiny, dismissive noise at the thought. "Whether she listened to him or not is another matter. I can't recognize any of his traits in her character's lovers, but who would have known if there was?" Witch Weekly and other gossip rags had (he assumed) correctly placed the identities of a few of her lovers - the more obvious ones such as Dominik, whom everyone knew about, and the man she'd almost married, an event which had likewise been in the public eye and therefore easy to place. The Turk could be ruled out, and none of the other men acted particularly like Landis. But then, Darian had no idea how well Dolly met demands. He would have put everything in anyways, then sat back and watched the drama unfold, but he was not the one with the multi-million galleon book series.

“Perhaps she’s protecting him. But... why?”

Darian's expression didn't change, even as the dark, lazy satisfaction rolled through him. He watched her silently, the perpetual slight upturn of his mouth inviting her to continue. Come, Juliette, I can't make everything too easy for you. What do you think she could be protecting him from...? She was very close. He wanted her to realize it, what a terrible miscalculation Landis had made the night he first slept with Dolly, if he'd even been thinking at all. A mistake like this was too grand not to be shared, even if Darian did not think she would also share his schadenfreudal amusement.

"Oh, he is in there,"

Here Juliette narrowed her eyes, thinking back to the pages of the books Dolly had published. Her face softened as he elaborated.

"After I mocked him half to death for it he finally told me he'd gone to her and demanded she leave him out of her future novels. I didn't know it at the time, but he must have been mad at the thought of losing his precious privacy."

She could see it. She could see it perfectly. She didn’t recall the character of whom he spoke, but she knew he was being honest. It was exactly something Landis would do. It would have been funny if it... weren’t funny at all. The idea of Darian mocking him almost made her feel guilty about being here, but she persisted. And if she had ever mocked Landis herself, that had been different... that was fair game, as were most types of banter where lovers were concerned. Still, she didn't wish to hear other people doing it, however casually styled their entanglement. Landis was sensitive. He would hiss at her for saying so, but it was true, and it was part of why she was so attracted to him.

“I’m beginning to think he doesn’t tell you half so much as you drag out of him.” She didn’t know whether to smile truly, uneasily, or with a falseness as delicate as as glass. She settled on a passive expression, swirled the vintage in her cup, and took a sip. She’d known it from the start, hadn’t she? And yet, here she was, wining and dining him, kissing his comely countenance, begging little bits of dust her lover had locked in a cupboard.

It was trickier to decipher what had gone between Dolly and Landis if half of Landis was in her books, the other suspiciously absent. And here was Darian, presenting it all so prettily for her.

Except her question went unanswered, but for a lethal smile. Juliette felt something jump inside her, and she sat straighter in her chair, her back proud, her shoulders graceful. “Dazmond has no idea.”

She refilled her glass with a wand’s wave. “But why would she care? Like you say, she's married. Why does Landis care if she knows? They’re all friends, yes? It was all in the past...” Landis was stubborn and disliked people rummaging through his things, it was true. But surely this was not such a sticking point that it couldn't be laughed past. Why did Landis care if she, Juliette, knew? Even if it were none of her business... "He's in love with her," She guessed temperately, redoubling her efforts at casualness, glass in one hand, wand in the other. If her fingers tightened, it was hardly visible.

Her smile was small, there for no reason but for something to do. The tiniest bit of sadness saturated it. Her eyes were far off, more telling. Looking across the room, but seeing scenes to which she'd never paid witness, memories which did not belong to her. "Will you have another bottle, Darian?" She asked with friendly fragility, still looking elsewhere. She brought her gaze back to him at last, smiling more deeply, but still feebly.