𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘 | 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

𝐯. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐘 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐒 - 𝒊 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉

♕

"I will not bow out of patrol," Thomas was saying as Dahlia, James, Matthew, and Cordelia entered the room. 

Faint cheers had greeted Matthew, Dahlia and James as they crossed through the pub below, but the mood at the Devil seemed muted. News of murders and the like tended to travel swiftly through Downworld.

He broke off as he caught sight of Dahlia and the others. He had one hand upraised, his finger jabbing the air as he spoke, as if to punctuate his sentences. He was flushed, his light brown hair in disarray.

Dahlia raised a questioning eyebrow, moving across the room to a cabinet for a glass and hopefully some champagne.

Lucie and Christopher sat side by side on a sofa in front of Thomas, like two small children being scolded by their parents. Both had their hands folded in their laps, though when she caught sight of Dahlia, Lucie couldn't help but wave. "Thank the Angel, you're all here! Isn't it awful?"

Dahlia joined Lucie and Christopher on the old sofa, having found a bottle of champagne and filled her glass. When she sank gratefully into the well-worn feather cushions, a puff of dust drifted into the air to join the comforting smells of old books and incense that she had spread around the room in an attempt to annoy Matthew when they were fifteen. Despite the circumstances, it was good to be back in these familiar rooms, where she had spent most of her time alone when the Thieves weren't there. With the Merry Thieves she had decorated the room, played with the fire, yelled at Matthew.

While they were settling in, Lucie touched Dahlia's hand. "We were just telling Thomas he oughtn't patrol," she said earnestly. "Atleast not alone. Not with what happened to Basil Pounceby." 

"Ah I see, Tom, take Alastair Carstairs with you." Dahlia said, sipping the champagne.

Thomas seemed to flush.

"Patrol is always going to be dangerous. That's just part of the job, like demons and Alastair Carstairs—" He broke off, turning bright red.

"Ah, Cordelia, I—" 

Cordelia smiled pleasantly. "Did you just remember that Alastair is my brother?" 

"Yes. No," Thomas said. He looked around at his friends beseechingly.

"Oh, no," said Dahlia. "You have to get yourself out of this one, Tom." 

"Cordelia, I—I have owed you an apology for some time. I may have my own issues with Alastair, but I'm sorry I was rude to him at the wedding. It was unforgivable. I like you very much and consider you a friend. Though I cannot forgive Alastair, I will treat him politely for your sake. I should never have suggested otherwise."

"Well," Cordelia said. "Thank you. Though I agree that you shouldn't be patrolling alone right now."

Thomas opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "May I have your permission to shout, keeping in mind I am not shouting at you?" he said to Cordelia. 

"Oh, quite," she said. "I like a good shouting in general."

"Yes," Dahlia agreed. "Shout at Matthew if you like."

"Thank you very much, Dahl," said Matthew. 

Dahlia scrunched her nose. "You make me sound like a grain. I shan't be called a grain." Dahlia said indignantly.

Matthew looked amused.

"Stop," said James. They all looked at him in surprise. "We need to discuss what we're dealing with before we argue about who's going on patrol and when. Patrol is meant to be about demons, and Math told me the Enclave is already thinking this wasn't a demon's doing—"