undergrounds | [closed to nancy & norrell] [forward-dated]

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[closed to nancy & norrell] [forward-dated]

Childermass noticed them during the territory claim for Lewisham, and he notices them around in the area soon thereafter, stirring up trouble. Street urchins. Gangs of boys. Not dissimilar to one of the gangs that he grew up in himself, all things considered. Having grown up in one of them, he knows that it's not just 'kids being kids', as he watches them work together to wreak their havoc.

There's no reason for him to interfere so Childermass merely watches. Takes note on what targets they're making, the techniques they use to stir up trouble. He doesn't really make anything of it one way or another until they cross into Lambeth and then Norrell flies into a tizzy. Orders flying around to fix this, Childermass, they must be stopped, this must be stopped! So Childermass does as he's told and heads out to investigate further. Discovering a pattern to their movements, and while he cannot track the source of who may be giving them their instructions, he does notice them associating with a certain woman on more than a few occasions to be coincidence.

Having been a child like them before, he knows that questioning them will be no help. But questioning her, on the other hand. It seems a bit more promising of a prospect. Nancy, he discovers her name to be. A streetwalker, as it turns out, although he could have pinned that from the promiscuous way that she dresses more than half the times he spots her. It's enough to give him an idea...

He takes the car this time. He knows what kind of an image it makes, that from the chrome plating to the leather seats it's practically dripping money. He makes certain not to seem like he's not too interested, that he cruises his way through the ladies on the street before he finds his way to Nancy, rolling down the window and tipping his hat at her as a way of beckoning her forth. "Ma'am..."

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The night had been quite uneventful. Probably for the best, given the way things had been going in their community. What she wouldn't have given for just a straight forward, night without any sort of supernatural involvement. Minus the occasional client, sure, but, it would have been far too long since she'd had a night like that.

Tonight, though, wasn't going to be one of those nights. A little blood had dripped down from her neck to the lace around her shoulders, matching her hair and lipstick in the dim light. At the sight of the car, a few of the girls peeked forward, but Nancy kept walking. Until the window rolled down and the man clearly spoke to her.

"Sir," she said, equally politely, inclining her head. That- that was a nice car. A nice car that had to have someone with money behind it. No wonder the other girls seemed interested. And now she was, too. She gave Childermass her sweetest smile, her green eyes flashing with some well-practiced lust. "May I help you this evening?"

Childermass puts the car into park so that he can speak to her properly, leaning on the window slightly as he does, his other arm casually across the steering wheel. "As a matter of fact," he drawls, his Yorkshire accent thick enough to cut with a knife, "you can. I was hoping that you might be free tonight?" He does make it a question, at least, a point in his favor. Although if she's not free he'll just park the car somewhere close and have to do all the work himself. It's why he's hoping that she'll just get in the car herself this way.

"My master is a very particular sort of man," he says. "Just so happens that he's taken a fancy to you, miss. He's sent me to fetch you back with me, if you're agreeable to the idea." He tips his head forward towards he slightly. "I can assure you, he pays a pretty penny indeed, especially if he'll be wanting you back again."

Master. Well, that makes things interesting. She takes a few more steps towards the car, so she's standing on the curb, her heels making her a good four, five inches taller than her normal 5' 2''. She has to bend over a little, to see Childermass.

"To me?" She tosses her hair curled over her shoulders. Odd. But, look at that car! And anything the car, and the guy driving it calling the car's owner 'master' didn't say, well, the guy driving it just said it. The man was loaded.

And who was she to say no to that?

She glances over her shoulder. She had plans, yeah, a guy to meet up with later, because he wanted a bite, but... Pressing her red, glossed lips together, she turns back to the car and smiles. "Just so happens I'm free for the evening. Let's see what this master of yours has to offer, then."

Childermass realizes rather late in the game that calling Norrell his master might give the lady the wrong opinion of him. He's always been rather old-fashioned, as has Norrell himself, and so he's never paid the word all that mind. There are times when the man treats him as though they have just stepped from another time, in fact. But he could see how someone might get the wrong idea, considering what it is he's supposed to be propositioning her for.

It's just as well that Nancy's dazzled by the car instead. Childermass nods slightly, just the once, and then hits the button to unlock the doors. He would get out and open it for her, but he could very well lose his car that way, someone slipping in and stealing it from him, in a neighborhood like this. Better safe than sorry, even if it's not particularly gentlemanly. He does flick her something of a smile as he clicks it open, however.

"Come on, then," he says, tipping his hat to her. "It's better not to keep him waiting, if we can help it."

At the sound of the door unlocking, Nancy straightened up and moved to enter the car. The door opened easily, and she slid in the back seat with little trouble, crossing her legs at the ankles as she took a seat to the far side. Glancing at Childermass in the rear-view window, she gives him a small smile before fishing into her purse for her phone.

She turns her attention to the device completely, texting Kenzi her plans for the evening, so someone knew where she was, in case things went south. It was odd, to be picked up like this, and the few times that it had happened, she'd followed the same procedure. Better safe than sorry.

Putting the phone down, she pulled out a compact, and began to reapply both her bright red lipstick, and then the gloss she wore on top. Occasionally, she looked up at Childermass, but she took the time to focus on herself and what was coming. It took a certain mind-set, truth be told.

Childermass isn't going to fault her for primping. As far as she's concerned, she's getting herself ready for a client. He tries not to think too hard about the idea of actually picking up a woman for Norrell, grateful perhaps just this once that his tastes generally run in the acquisition of a fine and rare artifact rather than the acquisition of a beautiful woman.

Putting the car in gear, he sets off down the road, towards the house in Mayfair. The house that, like the car, exudes a sense of wealth and status. The sense of wealth and status that Norrell likes to give off with just about everything that he does. Childermass pulls up before it, idling the car there for now (another worker will move it later, perhaps the actual valet this time) and letting her take it in for a moment, before stepping out and getting her door for her.

"This way, ma'am," he advises, leading her up towards the door.

Primping is part of the whole act, anyway. And for Nancy, for many other girls, applying makeup was their equivalent to putting on battle armor. Before the battle at Barnet, she'd applied her makeup as heavily as she would for any night out, to make herself feel more secure. Once she took a back seat to take care of the wounded, she'd removed most of it, laying herself bare to those that were in pain, so that she could better help them.

Makeup was a mask. It was a shield.

It also made you look really pretty.

Nancy steps out of the door once it's opened, looking up at the mansion looming above them. She tries to keep her jaw from dropping as she looks up, taking it all in as best she can in the dark.

After a few moments of gawking, she follows Childermass up to the door, and towards wherever he's going to lead her. "You won't be joining us- will you? I should let you know before that I will be charging double for two."

Childermass is a master of deception and disguise, and it is for that reason and that reason alone that he manages to keep a straight face when confronted with the idea of a threesome with Norrell. He does however shoot her an inscrutable look over his shoulder, the exact meaning of which entirely indecipherable -- and purposely so.

"He is not one for sharing in anything that he does," Childermass drawls in return, turning back to lead her into the house, shutting the door behind her, and stepping forward to continue through more tastefully expensive rooms. "You need not worry about me."

No, Childermass is not the one that she need worry about, as he directs Nancy through the rooms and opens the door to the study for her, ushering her in and closing the door behind her. Straight into the mouth of the beast.

Norrell is sat at his desk when Childermass enters. He is not, most likely, quite what she hoped for -- peering over his glasses as they enter. His eyes flick to Childermass momentarily and his brow furrows, mildly irritated that he did not knock but not enough so to voice it.

Sitting back he regards her curiously, setting aside his pen and lacing his hands together.

"This is her? The woman you spoke of?"

Which is... perhaps already is a bit off -- didn't Childermass say his 'master' had taken a fancy to her? Maybe it was just from... description?

There was much to take in quickly. The old man at the desk was (first of all, he was at a desk, but she supposed maybe he wanted to have a glass of champagne with her first, so who was she to judge?) not what she'd hoped for. Ideally, some handsome, young gentleman. Not some old, grouchy looking fellow who, inexplicably, reminded her of a bird.

Alright, fine, this was a normal night. She'd been with uglier.

But he had money in his pocket, that's all that mattered.

What threw her off, however, was the way he spoke. She furrowed her brow just a little, hardly enough to be perceptible. Play neutral, read the situation. Maybe he wanted her to play along. Regardless, something seemed off.

"Yes, sir," she said politely, giving him a smile and taking a step away from Childermass, closer to the man at the desk. "I believe I was sent for."

Well, that explains whether or not she recognizes Norrell by sight, Childermass supposes to himself. He had half a mind to assume that she might run as soon as she spotted him. Hence the closing of the door behind the pair of them and discretely locking it shut as well.

"It is, sir," Childermass says, as though Nancy had not just confirmed the fact herself -- for in fact she does not exactly know what they are talking about. He almost feels sorry for Nancy at this point, if he were one for pity. He tries to decide whether he would be better positioned behind Norrell or here by the door. In the end he stays where he is. It would not do to let her escape after they have come so far. He does not think he will steal her away so easily next time, certainly not without force.

He nods and removes his glasses, lets them hang on their chain as he studies her a moment longer. She hardly seems dangerous, such a slight thing, and the way she is dressed! He supposes he should expect such an inappropriate appearance from one such as her self. Still, he can hardly say he finds it comfortable.

This might, of course, go a degree smoother if Norrell had realised the poor girl had no idea where she was -- the way Childermass had lured her in. As it stands, he does not, and begins by assuming understanding and cooperation.

"Childermass tells me you are familiar with a young gang of fae who have been seen troubling Lambeth. We assume this is retribution for the recent efforts to remove Lewisham from their grasp. Would that be correct?"

What?

What the fuck?

She glances at Childermass behind her, then back to Norrell. This was. The opposite of standard. More than that, it was terrifyingly close to the truth. Someone had been spying on her. Someone must to have known about her relation to Shadow Coven. Lance.

He was police. He was Night Council. It wouldn't be too hard to link them- there were surely a million ginger Nancys in London alone, but her lifestyle narrowed it down considerably. It had to have been Lance.

Which was something to discuss at a later time. Right now, she needed to get out of this situation. Or put it back on the right track. Because there was no way she was answering his questions. She takes a few steps forward, keeping her eyes on Norrell, swinging her hips just so in, time with the click of her heels. "Nah-ah-ah," she said, shaking a finger at him. "Who said anything about business before pleasure?" Other than the initial hiring process.

Nancy brought her hands up to her neck, then slowly ran her nails down her chest, skimming along the plunging neckline of her shirt, intent on showing off to the bird man. By now, she's at his desk and leans over- her skirt is short enough that Childermass will be getting a great view of her fishnet clad ass, and the back of her garter belt. She'll charge him for that, Norrell seems to be the sort to have money to burn. She takes her hand and reaches out to gently touch his cheek, moving so she's sitting on the desk, her legs crossed at the knee.

"Wouldn't you like that, sir?" Her other hand rests on his chest and will move down accordingly.

Childermass does rather admire the view, and there's a part of him that does want to sit back and just enjoy the show, for that matter. He's fairly certain that Norrell may or may not go into a conniption at any moment now, however, and Nancy really doesn't know what she's been brought into the man's office for. She really wouldn't deserve whatever Norrell might do or say to her -- and Childermass knows that the man can get awfully nasty and petty, when he wants to. No, as much as it would amuse him to stand back and watch what Norrell might do in response to such an advance, he'd best step in and save them both from each other.

He's crossing the room quickly, reaching forward to catch Nancy's hand in his own before it can travel any lower on the other man's chest than it has already. "It's better if you didn't," he says, using the hand on hers to tug her to stand with him instead. Back away from the desk again (and out of harm's way, for that matter). His grip is surprisingly strong, and she will move with him, whether she wants to or not. He pulls up a chair opposite the desk instead, one-handed, and motions her towards it. "Here, sit," he says. Just because he's effectively kidnapped her and lied about the reason behind it doesn't mean he can't offer her a seat.

Norrell is vibrating with restrained fury by the time Childermass grabs Nancy back, leaning back as far as he can and hands white-knuckling onto the arms of his (very expensive, Georgian and in flawless condition) chair.

His chest rises and falls a moment, expression painted into a faint snarl, then he finally sits up again and dusts himself down -- as if gently brushing her touch off him. Collects himself and takes a slow breath, although he glowers too -- at Nancy and Childermass both. The offence is, of course, largely his fault for bringing her -- but still. That she dared to touch him is a note against her.

"Childermass," he snaps, "what did you tell her? You told me you saw her with the fae. Did you or did you not?"

Nancy gives Childermass her own scathing look when he grabs her. She resists, of course- she didn't like men grabbing on her without her consent- but finds herself moving towards the chair anyway. When she sees her opportunity, she stands and crosses her arms over her chest. "I'll stand, thanks." there was no gratefulness in her words.

She turns to Norrel: "your manservant said you'd taken a liking to me and brought me here under the assumption I was going to service you." Because she was in the room, and as much as him brushing her touch off hurt, she could speak not only for herself, but her mind as well.

"Now is that the case, or have I been brought in under false pretenses? if that's the case..." She looked at Childermass, "I expect compensation either way." and she would not be giving up any information. not to the creepy bird man and his slimy butler.

this was the wrong way to get information out of a girl.

"and I'd like a drink." a stiff one.

Childermass doesn't particularly care that they're mad at him. He's got her here, hasn't he? Now the ball is in Norrell's court, as it were. Whether she actually receives compensation for this. Whether he actually gets a drink for her. Whether they keep her here and make her talk. He will leave it up to the Great Mr Norrell himself to decide her fate. He's done his part, for better or worse.

"I did not lie to you, sir," Childermass retorts. "I have seen her with the boys on multiple occasions. She knows them. I merely brought her here in the easiest way I knew how." She's a prostitute, Norrell. You're an intelligent man. Put the pieces together, he doesn't think he needs to spell it out for you.

He doesn't really pay Nancy any mind. She isn't exactly a threat to him. He does feel for her, in some way. But if she cooperates then she doesn't have anything to worry about. So if she knows anything about what's good for her, she will. Though Childermass has a feeling that she'll do anything but.

Norrell thins his lips unhappily and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if this whole incident is giving him a headache already. He holds out a hand finally, pointed toward the chair meaningfully.

"Sit," he says, "and I will have something fetched for you. Tea or chocolate as you prefer."

He picks up a small bell and rings it with a heavy sigh, sets it down and gives Childermass a last irritated glower before pushing to his feet and pacing to stand beside his desk. So that he might study Nancy a little better.

"My name is Gilbert Norrell, High Priest of Circle Daybreak. You are here because Childermass has seen you associating with a number of fae who have been causing problems in Lambeth. It is my belief that this is revenge of a sort for our assistance with Lewisham. Now, I do not know what... compensation you have been promised..." and here he looks to Childermass again, lips pressed together unhappily. "But if that is what you require I will see to it. Fae can be troublesome, and until we can put an end to their activities no place will be safe."

"I'll have something stronger." But she does sit, at least, arms crossed, and legs crossed at the knees once more. She keeps her eyes on Norrell as he watches her, her chin raised and back straight.

The moment he said High Priest and Daybreak her eyes widened, but only slightly. Fuck- fuck, the last one of her Circle to be pulled in front of a member of Daybreak... Poor Abigail. She wouldn't take anything they brought to drink, least she be forced to tell only the truth again. Once was enough, thank you.

As for the gang... Oh, she knew very well who was behind it, pursing her lips just the slightest. The boys weren't subtle. And apparently, neither was she. But at least this was about them rather than Shadow Coven. For now, anyway.

"I'll be taking double, for the inconvenience." She looked at Norrell, but the words were spoken more to Childermass behind her still. She wouldn't look from Norrell for a second, if she could help it. "Whatever problems you have with the fae have nothing to do with me. You've the wrong girl." She moved to stand.

Childermass rolls his eyes at Norrell's looks. He's immune to the other man's annoyances at this point -- if anything they only irritate him. And he did his job, and did it well. Got her here, no fuss, no fight. She'd even walked herself into the room. Norrell needed to talk to her, and he'd provided him with the means. He can be upset about it all he likes, but fact is fact. Norrell will pay her. And they will get their answers.

"I think you are lying," Childermass says, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder and force her down again. He has been watching her face as she talks. Watching her make her demands and playing it tough, but Childermass can read a face. And the purse of her lips tells him that they have struck a nerve. "I have seen you with them. The boys. They are making trouble in the territory. A lot of trouble. And you and I both know that they are not acting of their own accord."

He shoots Childermass a slightly uneasy look as he forces Nancy back down into her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of force going into this all. Norrell is not a man who is good at asserting himself when challenged, not a man of great personal strength.

"You will have what you are offered," he says, and that is most certainly not something stronger. A servant appears at the door a moment, approaches when beckoned and listens to Norrell's quiet request before vanishing away again to fetch drinks -- Norrell still regarding Nancy hesitantly. He is equal parts loathe to speak with her and really quite impatient to find out what she might know. "They are not your friends," he says finally, "fae cannot be trusted. If you have been threatened by them we may be able to help."

Nancy resists, of course, but in the end, Childermass has considerable strength over hers, and she's sitting front and center. They were going to hold her against her will after luring her here under false pretenses? They could add kidnapping to their rap-sheet then.

This didn't add up. Norrell had her here to see what she knew, to see if he could help her with her alleged fae problem. "Why?" She crosses her arms across her ample chest. "Why bring me here against my will to ask if I need help. Because they're not my friends- you're absolutely right about that; they're my brothers." For all intents and purposes, of course. Raised by the very same man. Hurt by him, as well, she had no doubt. The fae amongst them, the humans, he hurt them all, used them to further his own goals.

Childermass does not pay Norrell's look any particular heed. He is accustomed to needing to take charge of a situation, when necessary. For all that Norrell gives his orders, there are certain areas in which he certainly finds himself lacking. Assertion, for one. Situations like this, for example. Childermass wonders how Norrell might do if he did step out of the room. He doubts that he'd need to fear for the other man's safety at all, but. He has no doubt that Nancy might walk over him.

"Your brothers," he repeats, keeping his hand on her shoulder for a moment before he is certain that she's not going to fight him anymore, before putting it on the back of her chair. He has a feeling they are her brothers in the same way that the children that Childermass had worked with on the streets were his siblings as well. "They are causing trouble, these brothers of yours. Organized trouble." He glances to Norrell, trying to determine what it is that the man wants out of this exchange, whether to give him full rein of it once more, before deciding he'd better stay on as he is. "Trouble that would benefit the fae. Now why would that be?"

"Revenge," Norrell insists, with all the tact of someone who has never heard the phrase 'don't lead the witness'. "It must be, I know it. The fae have taken far too much territory in the south of London, and now they are angry at me. They see me as a threat. Sylvia has been idle too long, she is complacent and weak, but I have moved, and they have seen it."

He wrings his hands a moment, uneasy at the thought, then rallies and pins Nancy down with a stare.

"You know these fae. You have been seen with them. Who leads them?"

it was astonishing, the level of self-importance this man had. Hell, it was probably even true, that Fagin had sent the boys to mess with him. Or at least his particular brand of Daybreak. Certainly not him specifically, she would bet any day of the week.

But that was what he wanted to think. That he was important, and he was in danger, and he he he. And giving that to him could be a fast ticket out of this mess. And maybe she'd walk out with a good share of money, as well. He'd been disgusted at her previous show, the whore all dolled up. So perhaps the best option was to go in completely the opposite direction.

Nancy burst into tears, promptly starting to sob into her hands. Below, her eyes were dry. "I-- I can't tell you! He'll hurt me again, I know he will!"

Childermass resists the urge to roll his eyes himself. He is not one quite so easily played as Norrell himself, and he knows how a woman can use a couple well-timed tears to her advantage. He knows that there is a chance that she might be doing so now. But what he does not know is how to prove whether she is lying or not. Perhaps she cannot tell, for all her theatrics.

Childermass ignores the 'tears' and Mr Norrell's previous blustering (leading the witness indeed) and continues. "What is he after?" he asks, leaning forward again over the arm of her chair. "Who is this person to you, that you live in fear of him, so obliged to keep his secrets?" Tell me, every line of Childermass' person is nearly crying out with restrained force of will. He will find his answers, one way or another.

The tears make Norrell hesitate, make him frown as she begins her defence. He'll hurt me again, she protests, and he does not know what to do with that. Such a thing is not something Gilbert Norrell is used to. The world of street whores, of fae pinning children under their thumb, it is all alien to him. Norrell has money and safety, and he does not know how to sympathise with such a thing.

Theirs a soft knock at the door and then the servant re-enters with a tray, sets it down neatly on a table to one side. Norrell waves him off impatiently.

"Perhaps some chocolate will help her calm down?" he offers.

Norrell is probably the most useless man with any sort of power that Nancy has ever seen. But that's only a half-formed thought because Childermass takes up the rest of her thought process.

"I can't-" she insists, hiding her eyes behind her hands until she has worked herself up enough to actually summon tears. "I told you- I can't say anything." she leans away from Childermass as he bares down on her. "please don't ask me." she looks from one man to the other as the false tears run down her cheeks, smearing her makeup.

Childermass doubts that what she wants is chocolate, but he obliges Norrell's offer after a moment, standing straight and moving to fetch a cup for her. He may be the one generally calling the shots here, he might be more present in the situation than Norrell himself, might be more conscious of how to approach it and how to get answers out of her. But he's still only the hired help, and if Norrell wants him to serve drinks then he must serve drinks, as any hired help must do.

He approaches her again, the drink in hand, holding it out to her as he does. "It's just chocolate," he says, as if he is reading her thoughts as to what there might be in the drink. "Though it might be hot. Drink. Calm yourself." He glances back at Norrell, knowing the other man would prefer him approach this like a gentleman rather than digging the answers out of her like he could. After a moment, he leans forward closer to her, waiting for a calmer moment before grumbling out, "There must be something you can tell us. Where does he live? Is it within the territory?" That would make sense, if this has anything to do with the fae themselves.

"You must tell us," Norrell adds, as kindly as he can -- his small hands linked together in front of him but fidgeting still. "The fae will take over London entirely if they are not stopped. I know they can be cruel, but we will not let them be cruel to you if you only help us. Sylvia Redbright's promises might be empty but my word is good, I can assure you."

His small smile says trust me, although any person who had known Norrell long enough may doubt such a thing. Norrell's word is only good when it suits him, or when he is harshly reminded to keep it.

Nancy resists the urge to throw the chocolate in their faces, and instead, keeps up her miserable charade. She takes the cup, but only holds it.

Norrell doesn't like Redbright, she notes, filing it away for later, when she wasn't trying to get herself out of this mess without revealing anything about herself, her brothers, or Fagin. She shook her head, fast and tight. "I can't, you don't understand!" A few items on shelves begin to shake with the force of her emotions mingling with her magic.

"There's nothing you nor anyone can do to save me, me and the boys. I can't give you what you want." She heaves a terrible sob, pulling her knees up to her chest, any modesty forgotten in the moment. "He's a very bad man, capable of awful things. He'll hurt you, worse than me- he'll make me watch." She turns her green eyes up at Norrell, trying her best to look as pathetic as she could. "You don't deserve what he can do to you."

No, he deserved more.

Childermass eyes the shelves, though he does not fear the items on them. He merely wishes that Norrell did not have so many things that she might use against them in such a way, if things should turn ugly. He idly wonders how much of the act is real. Certainly not her concern for them, to be sure. That's where she took things too far. Alright, well if it's emotions that she seeks to use on them, then it is emotions that Childermass will use against her.

"You wish to protect them, is that it?" he asks. "He frightens you, this man, that much is plain." That much she doesn't have to fake. He knows how it works, on the street. "What is it that he holds over you? It cannot be loyalty that holds your tongue." He leans in close again, drawing his words out longer to emphasize his point, in his own rough way, ignoring her lack of propriety in the moment as well as that look in her eye she is trying to use against them. "A good little girl from well-to-do family would not sell herself on the streets for spare change. Nor would an honest man use little boys to do his dirty work. You are connected, all of you, and the connection is this man. What is he playing at?"

Norrell's small, sharp eyes flit up and around the shelves himself as they begin to tremble -- widening in alarm. Confirmation, then, that this woman is a witch perhaps? Or something else. Has some degree of fae magic on her. To think! He has allowed her here, into his study, and perhaps... Perhaps she has only come to spy on him! To try and steal his secrets for another! He rushes to a shelf to try and steady some things, remove breakables down to a safe level.

"Make her stop," he hisses at Childermass, for the safety of his books is paramount!

It is true. She's not a good girl from a good family, and Fagin is not an honest man. There's no lies there, nor is it a lie when she nods meekly, because he does frighten her. There's still part of that little girl that lives inside of her, that wants to make him happy and doesn't want him to hurt her. He'd used his cane against her and the boys before, and she knew, even that she no longer lived with him, that he would do it to her again. She had no one to protect her from Fagin, so she tried to keep him placated as best she could.

The memories are still so fresh and she uses them, some vase tumbling off of one of the higher shelves.

The best lies, she knows, aren't lies at all. So she would tell the truth to get herself out of here. "He- he raised me," she tries, refusing to look at Childermass, but rather, towards Norrell. "He's a very bad man- he set me to the streets when I was a child, just as he has with the boys."

Childermass knows the way of these things. The way of the streets. He grew up on them, after all. He grew up under the shadow of a whore (his mother) and he knows the way that life works when it is not, at heart, your own to live.

He glances aside at the vase that falls and knows that he could catch it, if he wanted to. He knows that he could reach out with his mind and halt it in its fall. But Norrell would be wary of his demonstration. It's bad enough that he's been forward, if he should showcase his magic in such a moment, then who knows what the other man will do. So he lets it fall. And lets her do her talking, for now. Glancing to Norrell for direction instead. Have you had enough? Say the word and he will do as you ask. He is the muscle in this, after all. Nothing more.

"Mr Norrell?"

Norrell makes a sound of distress as his vase hits the ground, continues to hurriedly rescue things from shelves. He risks a look over at Nancy, at her face as she attempts to plead with him. Some of it gets to him, in truth, but the danger of her magic making his things fall from shelves is a distraction from his sympathy. Takes away a good deal of it.

"Make her stop," he snaps again -- more meaningful this time. Either she stops the magic or Childermass has leave to force her to, however he chooses. Norrell cares little which it is, so long as his books are safe. He could simply ask her, but Norrell is not the kind of man to ask a person nicely when he feels harried.

She isn't trying to do magic, that's the thing. It's a reflex, when her emotions get the best of her, even if it is an act. And to a degree, it is.

"I'm sorry!" she tries, looking at the broken remnants of the vase. "I can't- not always- he never taught me." He taught her plenty of things, just not much about magic. Nothing that would give her power over him, a way to be her own person. She'd learned, but it had been on her own. Funny, how a girl so involved with Midnight was hardly the level of witch she assumed everyone thought she was.

At least they didn't know that.

Nothing shatters, but a few pages of books turn of their own accord. "Please-" please what she wasn't even sure anymore. "He's all I've got left."

Childermass looks between Nancy and Norrell and makes a tutting sound with his teeth, as though he would have pressed harder, he would have gotten the answers from her if it were up to him. But it isn't, and Norrell would definitely disapprove of him continuing with his own methods from here. So he lets it go, taking a step forward to remove the drink from her hands, using his other to haul her up.

"Come on, then," he says, settling the drink aside on Norrell's desk. He throws one last glance at the other man as he scurries around to rescue his belongings before he escorts Nancy from the room and hopefully solves all of their problems in doing as much.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed to nancy & norrell] [forward-dated]

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