Thunderlight

(Cont.) How to Get Rid of a Country Bumpkin

Obviously, Montgomery isn't actually a murderer. Killing someone would've been an incredibly difficult thing for even his father to cover up, and Montgomery has never been able to stomach the thought, anyways. But if he can play the part, it won't matter. Lenny is gullible; he'll believe it and take off for the hills by sunrise.

"Yes," Montgomery mutters to himself, tapping his fingers together and leering into the fireplace, "it's all coming together."

Lenny pauses his stitching to blink oddly at him. "What was that?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing," he laughs. Turning back to the flames, he mumbles just loud enough for Lenny to hear. "Soon, they'll all be dead. Just like she is..."

Lenny looks vaguely uncomfortable.

Honestly, Montgomery is kinda having fun. Plays were one of the only proper aristocratic activities he enjoyed growing up. He used to force Torquil and Florian to partake in ragtag backyard productions of his own all the time growing up, so he's got some experience in creating characters. The one he's playing now, he's dubbed as Murderin' Montgomery.

Murderin' Montgomery is a deranged killer who lost his marbles after watching the woman he loved die at the hands of some bandits. Now, he travels the world, gruesomely flaying every criminal he sees in an attempt to find the solace he desperately craves. Yet, with every life he takes, he only grows more restless and begins killing indiscriminately. Thus, he tragically perpetuates the cycle of death that spurred him into murdering in the first place.

Mongomery hasn't worked out all the kinks with Murderin' Montgomery, yet, but he's pretty proud of his impromptu creation. It's gripping! Tragic! Besides, it doesn't need to be a perfectly developed character to work for him. As long as it makes Lenny uncomfortable enough to run away, then it'll do the job. And right now, Lenny is subtly shifting away from Montgomery and closer to Hilda, so Montgomery would say it's working great. Even Hilda watches him warily.

"So, Hilda," Lenny says, clearly trying to break the tension. "You work in them mines? How long you been doing that?"

Reluctantly—very, very reluctantly—Hilda drags her eyes away from Montgomery, who's still whispering to himself in the ominous glow of the fire. "Not long. Been job hopping. Used to work in a bakery, got fired for stealing the bread."

Lenny nods, resuming his work. "I know a lot of people back home who got fired from their jobs for stealing, but it was all they could do to keep their family fed. Was it the same for you?"

"No." Her eyes are cold, distant. As if she's watching her past flicker by outside the window. "Was a poor, hungry, homeless kid. Worked hard, learned to bake. Moved up in life. Met my wife, started a family. But that hungry kid inside me never left. Even though I was under a roof and fed, I was afraid. I was afraid of losing it all again."

Lenny leans against her. "So you kept stealing."

A grim nod. "I couldn't stop. My fear was too strong. I was so afraid of losing the life I made for myself that... that I threw it away for a couple loaves of bread."

What the hell? Who gave her the right to be so tragic? She's distracting from Murderin' Montgomery's very important character!

Even worse, she starts to cry. No loud wails or sniffling, just silent tears tracking down her jagged cheeks. Lenny sighs with utmost sympathy, patting her side consolingly.

"There, there," Lenny shushes, adding the finishing stitches to... whatever he just made. It looks like a long, narrow stretch of pink fabric. Gesturing to Hilda's head, he requests, "Lean down for me?"