I Am the Infamous

-1- Welcome to Rochegrise

"Truth or dare?"

In Beaumont House— well, it was more an upper class manor if anything— five people piled around each other in the living room.

"No," Margaret Nobelle didn't look up from her book. Rain dribbled slowly down the window panes, idly painting the city and riling up the smell of wet pavement and soil. Théo Emery rolled his eyes from where he was slung over the couch, legs over the arm. He grabbed the nearest decorative pillow and chucked it at her.

It thumped off the side of her head. Margaret gave him a look that could kill.

"Okay, why not?" The boy sitting next to the seething Margaret and her now-creased book was upside down on the cushions, his curly hair ruffled and glasses seconds away from sliding onto the floor. It wouldn't be the first time they'd fallen and shattered, and if they fell, it still wouldn't be the last time. Jude was not the sharpest tool in the shop, or the shed.... or even the toolbox.

"Because you all know everything about me."

"Doubtful." Théo flicked on the television and crossed his arms. "I couldn't tell you the last time you broke a rule."

"That's a terrible example." Margaret raised her eyes beneath furrowed brows, tucking her short blonde hair behind an ear. A blue hairpin designed like a lotus gleamed from where it was clipped on her head. "Could you even determine that about anyone else here?"

The news came onto the screen, a grey newscaster announcing through a very poor connection. Théo blinked innocently, and folded his hands together. "Yesterday, Carrie left the oven on when she left the house. That's one house rule sent to hell."

Caroline Beaumont waltzed into the room with a pan balanced in her oven mittens. Lemon drop cookies steamed next to a dish of chilled buttercream. Her cheeks stained pink when she entered to the sound of her name.

"I was quick, and I was desperate. The recipe called for another cup of butter—"

"Yes, yes." Théo batted a hand and she frowned. "This morning, Jude threw up in town square garden. That's two town rules," He dragged his finger across his throat and made a dramatic sound. "botched."

Jude McCarthy grinned at Caroline as she offered the pan around the room. He grabbed a handful and cupped them against his flannel shirt. Masking a chuckle, Caroline moved her pan over to Théo, "How charming of you."

"This morning, I happened to sneak a couple of smokes from my kind old man," Théo examined his nails and shook his hips, making his pockets jangle. "And I might have taken the tip jar from Garrick's."

Garrick's, the local butcher.

"It's not impressive to remember the last time you committed theft from your own family and the most short-tempered man in town." Margaret closed her book, rubbing at the creases in her yellow-paged book with a peeved scowl. Unpleasant scenes began to get displayed on the small screen at the edge of the room. Everyone in the group knew to avert their eyes.

"It's impressive for different reasons. Tom Garrick would have chopped off his hand and sold it for a mint if he'd caught him sneaking tips." Jude clicked his tongue and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "Come on now, Margaret. That's high rolling."

The blonde girl sighed, and folded her hands in her lap. "And Winslow?"

The fifth member. Winslow Thomas smiled when Caroline circled over to him and held out the pan. He plucked a lemon cookie off the tray after dipping it in the cream, "Thanks, love."

Théo scoffed, "Ah, well only minutes ago that one was."

Margaret's expression went confused for a moment, looking over at the pale, raven-haired boy. Winslow was almost as highbrow and finicky as she was. "And that was...?"