she could muster, hating herself for it but enjoying the expression of consternation on his face. "Can't go and fetch Ghost if I don't know what for and... well, Ghost really hates rudeness..."
The muscles were at work in his jaw again; she was fascinated by their dance. "Please go and fetch Ghost," he murmured, fixing her with a glare of steel. "I have been shopping all day and his services were recommended to me as the very best."
At that, she raised one blonde eyebrow. "I see." With that, she turned from him. "May I ask what your name is?" She threw over her shoulder, hoping that he couldn't infer the curve of her smile from the line of her jaw.
"Sable," came the terse reply.
"Well, Mr. Sable," she said, glancing over her shoulder, "I am Ghost, and I'll thank you to take yourself from my workshop right now."
In the silence that followed, she could hear the rumblings of carriages from the end of the street. Finally, Sable said in such an unruffled manner that Ghost wanted to lodge a spanner in his head right there and then, "Ms. Ghost, I have a proposition for you."
"I'm not interested. I don't deal with presumptuous men."
"I think you'll find that this might, in fact, interest you greatly." At the same time, he withdrew a crude and slightly dog-eared photograph from an inner jacket pocket.
Wordlessly the woman tugged it from his elegant fingers and stared at the image thereon, then sighed.
Her days might have been running like clockwork before, but she suspected that Sable and his glossy shoes meant they wouldn't again, for a very long time.
The muscles were at work in his jaw again; she was fascinated by their dance. "Please go and fetch Ghost," he murmured, fixing her with a glare of steel. "I have been shopping all day and his services were recommended to me as the very best."
At that, she raised one blonde eyebrow. "I see." With that, she turned from him. "May I ask what your name is?" She threw over her shoulder, hoping that he couldn't infer the curve of her smile from the line of her jaw.
"Sable," came the terse reply.
"Well, Mr. Sable," she said, glancing over her shoulder, "I am Ghost, and I'll thank you to take yourself from my workshop right now."
In the silence that followed, she could hear the rumblings of carriages from the end of the street. Finally, Sable said in such an unruffled manner that Ghost wanted to lodge a spanner in his head right there and then, "Ms. Ghost, I have a proposition for you."
"I'm not interested. I don't deal with presumptuous men."
"I think you'll find that this might, in fact, interest you greatly." At the same time, he withdrew a crude and slightly dog-eared photograph from an inner jacket pocket.
Wordlessly the woman tugged it from his elegant fingers and stared at the image thereon, then sighed.
Her days might have been running like clockwork before, but she suspected that Sable and his glossy shoes meant they wouldn't again, for a very long time.
