The Glass Scientists micro-fanfictions

New Knowledge

"I beg your pardon, you're related to whom?"

"I know you heard me." came Rachel's nonchalant response not going quite as well at appearing casual, the corner of her mouth daring to twitch a little despite her best efforts towards appearing unfazed. With noncommittal hum, the chef swept the various vegetables she'd been chopping into the pot of stew that she had simmering away, and more importantly was her attempt at not letting her attention land back on the young man that was being particularly troublesome by crouching, shoes on, on top of the counter that she was intending to use.

"You are telling me that you, a sweet little chef in a prestigious association is the sister-in-law to the greatest criminal in the whole damned world?" Hyde pressed, though the skepticism was swiftly replaced with a hopeful, almost pleading whine, rocking back and forth on his toes in a way that it was a miracle he didn't go tumbling right over to crash into the ground.

"There is a lot you don't know about me," she returned something particularly playful in her voice, "And one of those things just so happens to be that the head of the Forty Elephants, Cutthroat Lucy just so happened to be my sister-in-law." Rachel could not help but draw this out just a little bit more than she necessarily needed to, very much appreciating the theatrics and sheer drama that she was building up.

"And when, pray tell," said he, laboring each and every word he uttered, "Were you going to tell me this?"

"It never seemed to be important enough to mention it." the woman stated, a teasing nonchalance in her voice as she knew full well that the man idolised the woman in question. There was a touch of sauntering swagger in her step as she took a step away from him, moving out of reach as he went to grasp at her, and at the same time using this as an opportunity to secure another ingredient that she needed for the stew. It was less of a two birds and one stone situation, and rather hitting one bird and frightening the other away in the process.

"Is it true that she killed a man just for stepping on her dress?" the bestial blond man asked, "And that she has her clothes custom tailored so that she can steal things without being noticed? And that she jumps into moving vehicles so that she can escape? And that she has at least one or two of her ladies invited to all the big events so that the others could rob the places of all the fine folk attending the events? And that-"

"Take a second to breath," Rachel cut in, getting a tad overwhelmed by the sheer number and speed of the questions that the other was spurting out.

"Killed a man for stepping on her dress?"

"That was a bit exaggerated. It was a coat, and," she paused, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes, "She didn't kill him, but I dare say he won't be continuing his family bloodline after that." She couldn't help but appreciate the hiss that this prompted from the man who was listening to each and everything that she said. If she so chose to, she was very much aware, she could feed him some absolute nonsense that he'd eat up in a heartbeat, but he'd probably try to spread things around so she'd rather avoid there being too many lies and part-truths that were making rounds.

"And the tailored clothes?"

"She even offered to get me a set, you know," she once more paused for emphasis, "In case there was ever a time that I needed it." Nothing in her words, or the way she said it gave away whether or not she agreed to this. Of course, Rachel did own a rather lovely gown designed for thievery that she was gifted, made in a way that was just distracting enough to ensure nobody would notice the wearer stripping the other of all their valuables until she was so far away that her guilt was the last thing on their mind when a pocket watch or glittery broach was found to be nowhere to be found.

"Jumping into moving vehicles?"

"Well, not strangers' vehicles, it wouldn't do anyone any good to be in a carriage that takes you right back to what you're trying to escape. But she does, in fact have people prepared to drive by at various intervals over the night." she said this with the same tone of voice that one might when discussing the weather on a particularly tedious and underwhelming afternoon, and not the deploying of getaway vehicles to help a thief escape from the scene of a crime.

"Ladies planted in events to learn who was away from home so that robberies can take place?"

"Of course, that's just good planning. What would you do if you walked into someone's house with the intention of taking valuables?" she asked rhetorically, and once she noticed Hyde opening his mouth to reply, she added, "Don't say 'screw them'." The twitch in his brow suggested that was precisely what he was going to say. "There's a reason nobody here has been robbed of house and home, by the way, but there's no need to thank me for that." She let the implication of that hang for a moment, the slightest hint of smugness in her tone, a subtle flex of her connections and power that she does not so often get to show off as much as she might.

Admittedly she was more than a little bit proud of her association with one of the reigning queens of the gritty underbelly, and there was nobody better in the whole damned city that she would feel better about showing off in front of that Edward Hyde, who seemed very close to exploding after every single answer that she willingly handed over to him.

"And is it true that she smells of gunpowder and canon fire?"

"Edward!"

"It's just for curiosity sake," he returned, raising his hands up in a way that looked almost innocent, not that the man ever did a very good job of innocence, as far too often his shows of innocence came with inexplicable bruising or rumours circling about, "I've heard it said that she forever smells of a battlefield that us mere common folk could only dream of!"

"That's, uh," Rachel paused, her eyebrow twitching a little as she went through a good handful of emotions at more or less the same second the others all emerged, "I don't go around sniffing and smelling the people in my family, Master Hyde, that's generally thought of as being weird."

"Unfortunate," said he, and then, with his hands clasping his knees, he rocked forward to such an angle that his feet were shaking with the effort of maintaining what little balance it was able to with him in just an unsafe position, "I suppose you'll just have to introduce me so I can find out for myself!"

Rachel did not reply right away at this. She could hardly introduce him to the woman that she had painted a very particular picture of him to, this being one of an overzealous and incompetent young man that needed to be looked after because he didn't know how to and was in over his head, if he was to discover how one he so idolised knew him as, well, she could hardly imagine he'd be the most pleased with this, and so that would end up poorly for her. Not that she thought he might hurt her or anything so drastic, but rather he would simply run off to do who knows what, getting up to mischief and other things he was not well prepared.

"One day, I might introduce you, but I might not."

The exclamation that the man let out at this was the sort that a person might let out if they, say, stubbed their toe against a corner or some other minor but nonetheless incredibly painful occurrence.

"Now, move," said she, playfully swatting at him, "I need the counter to go onto the next step of the meal, or would you rather go hungry tonight?"