Ali didn't have a curfew. The very idea was preposterous! She was lady of the house, and certainly an adult; who could tell her when she could come and go from her own home
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On any normal night, that would be the case. On any normal night, Sasha would be curious, but would accept Ali's coming and going. She loves Ali, and trusts her implicitly.
This is not a normal night. Sasha sits like a spider at the center of a web of operatives and informants, and tonight her web is singing with reports of chaos, of violence, of the Duchess herself being assaulted and left for dead. So tonight, she is straining for every whisper of sound, pouncing on phones as they ring and messengers as they arrive. When she hears Ali coming in, she sheds the dignity she has held by a thread, surging through the house to catch her in an embrace. "Oh! Oh, love, where have you been?" Before there is time for an answer, though, she holds Ali at arm's length, looking her over, trying to gauge her condition.
And here is Hans, just as worried, just as concerned. He's spent most of his time pacing, worried out of his German skull. He is a man of action, but here, he has nothing he can do, no one to hit, nothing to shoot, nothing to do but worry and fret.
And imagine the terrible possibilities. He understands very little of the mystical world that Ali moves in, but what little he can imagine is quite terrible indeed. Concern not just for her, but for their children as well.
He's a mere step behind Sasha, making no effort to hide his emotions at all, clearly wanting to embrace Ali and never let her go. "My love... Thank Gott you are safe..."
"Oof!" Ali is soon smooshed into hugs, and even if it's a bit hard to breathe she has no complaints. Hugs are good things.
"I'm fine," she promises, "I'm fine. This isn't the first time I've been out all night. Why are you two so worried?" (Read: "who do I smack for telling?")
"I heard rumors of unrest in the city," Sasha replies, taking the blame on herself and her spies. "I heard such terrible things..." She might regret this lack of composure in front of Hans later, but Ali trumps her pride.
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This is not a normal night. Sasha sits like a spider at the center of a web of operatives and informants, and tonight her web is singing with reports of chaos, of violence, of the Duchess herself being assaulted and left for dead. So tonight, she is straining for every whisper of sound, pouncing on phones as they ring and messengers as they arrive. When she hears Ali coming in, she sheds the dignity she has held by a thread, surging through the house to catch her in an embrace. "Oh! Oh, love, where have you been?" Before there is time for an answer, though, she holds Ali at arm's length, looking her over, trying to gauge her condition.
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And imagine the terrible possibilities. He understands very little of the mystical world that Ali moves in, but what little he can imagine is quite terrible indeed. Concern not just for her, but for their children as well.
He's a mere step behind Sasha, making no effort to hide his emotions at all, clearly wanting to embrace Ali and never let her go. "My love... Thank Gott you are safe..."
Reply
"I'm fine," she promises, "I'm fine. This isn't the first time I've been out all night. Why are you two so worried?" (Read: "who do I smack for telling?")
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