Lord Day and Lady Night

62. Tasty Treats

"Come on! Faster!"

"Tell me something, P," Lord Patrick heard a familiar voice from beside him. Glancing down, he was faced with a smirk. A smirk that unfortunately had an Amy attached. "The reason ye're rushin' inta our next dangerous and deadly mission in da East End doesn't perchance 'ave anythin' ta do with yer mother expectin' ta meet with ye next Wednesday, does it?"

He threw her a dirty look. Thanks to her having smeared dirt all over him for the last ten minutes, he actually managed to make a decent job of it.

"Cheer up!" Amy told him. "Ye should be 'appy! I've done quite the magnificent job with ye!" She reached out to pat his dirt-covered shoulder—then decided better not to. "Ye really look da part of da filthy crook, ye know."

"I wonder," Lord Patrick Day stated, his voice filled with as much sarcasm as could possibly fit without bursting his noble vocal cords, "who could possibly be responsible for that."

"Me," Amy reminded him brightly. "Did ye forget already? My, my, ye really must be gettin' old."

Calm. Calm, Patrick. Act in a way that behooves a nobleman of the realm.

Then again...he had already planted his lips on hers. Would it really be such a bad idea to put his fist there, too? After all, she had taught him to use surprise attacks...

Stop it! You are on a mission now, remember!

"All rightey. We're 'ere."

Those words abruptly tore Lord Patrick from his musings. Glancing up, he inspected the façade of the decrepit building in front of him, half-obscured by the fog that was billowing through the gloomy street. The stench of rotting fish hung in the air. Or perhaps it was the stench of the patrons from inside the inn they were about to enter. It was difficult to tell.

"Ready, P?"

His Lordship nodded. "I'm ready."

No matter if my nose might not be. Let's not mention that.

"Remember—this isn't about acquiring information. Not yet. We're just 'ere to test out yer actin' skills, show our faces, and build yer altar eco."

Lord Patrick closed his eyes in grammatical agony. "That is alter ego, Miss Amy. Alter ego."

"Aye, like I said, altar eco."

Oh, to hell with it! It's not like you won't be spewing colloquialisms and profanities yourself all too soon, is it? After all, that is what you are here to train.

"Now den..." Taking a step towards the inn's entrance, Amy glanced back at him one last time. "Who are ye again?"

"I'm your cousin, newly come to town from the countryside just outside the city."

"Aye. That should explain any oddities in yer accent."

"And," he pointed out, "it will also make me look like a stupid country bumpkin."

That smirk from before returned to her face with a vengeance. "Aye, my plans always 'ave added benefits."

Calm, Patrick. The calm befitting a nobleman.

Suddenly, however, the grin started slipping from Amy's face. Lord Patrick was just about to step towards the entrance when, with a solemn look, she halted him.

"Patrick?"

Wearily, he turned towards her. When the young woman met his eyes, hers were as hard as emeralds.

"What is it, Amy?"

"This is it. If ye don't manage ta convince dose buggers in dere, ye'll never get within a 'undred feet of da gangs."