no subject

[As is the case with most of these dreadful Kirkwall mansions meant for the sticky heat of summer, the house is prone to a draft come winter and made chillier still by the fact that a majority of the rooms have been stripped of their defining furniture in an effort to scrub and clean and be reappointed at its new owner's leisure. For some inconsiderate moments, Val is left to wander at his own behest. Then from some adjoining room, there is the sound of shattering glass, followed by—

Wysteria appearing in the doorway opposite to the pop of glass. She is wearing a heavy leather apron over her dress, work gloves to her elbows, with some dark smudge on her forehead.]

There you are, Monsieur de Foncé. How kind of you to let yourself in.