(Untitled)

[stephenblack]

Stephen Black was becoming accustomed to being pulled from one place to another by way of magic. In fact, it was becoming something of a nuisance. This time was a bit more odd though. One moment he had just finished folding some of Sir Walter Pole's nightshirts and was in the process of putting them in the wardrobe when he happened to glance up and

Comments

[thistledownking]

Icily, the gentleman answers (for he remembers quite well incidents with mill-stones, and does not forgive quickly or easily or, it is nicest to say, at all), "It is really too much of you to follow me here, and after you so cruelly rejected my generosity!"

Should Stephen turn at the voice, he will see the gentleman standing behind him, arms akimbo and clothing impeccably fashioned from cloth of pure ire--rather like the fairy's expression, actually.

[stephenblack]

He does turn and attempts to keep his usual level of composure. "I am afraid that I don't understand you, sir."

[thistledownking]

"Do not understand me--do not understand me!" He turns in agitation, fixing Stephen with a gaze like an osprey's when it sights a fish through water. "You have used me very rudely, to pretend ignorance!"

Typist: Also, I forgot to mention last time--whoever you are, I am madly in love with you. ^_____^

[stephenblack]

"I do not pretend anything, sir." Stephen was beginning to get a bit nervous. The gentleman in a state of agitation was never good especially if Stephen couldn't divine the cause. "Perhaps you could help me in my bewilderment, as frustrating as it must be?"

Typist: \o/ *wins*

[all_that_grace]

Courfeyrac, happening by, jumps a little as there's suddenly a man where there wasn't one a second ago. "--Hello."

t: This guy, maybe?

[stephenblack]

"Good day, sir. Could you tell me where I am?"

Typist: Hmmm... hair's wrong.

[all_that_grace]

"Afraid I couldn't, with any accuracy." A charming, apologetic grin. "Have you just come, then?"

[stephenblack]

"I believe so, sir, unless this is still Sir Walter Pole's residence."

[sixpearls]

"Oh, my. Do excuse me." Mary happens to be polishing the largest wooden object near where he is standing.

[stephenblack]

He moves away from it gracefully. "Pardon me, madam."

[sixpearls]

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

[stephenblack]

"I am afraid that is my fault, after a fashion, madam. I find I've only just arrived here."

[ironicalsmile]

It takes Strange a few moments to look up from his book, with the air of one who has been dragged away, much against his will, from something to which he desperately longs to get immediately back. Looking at Black, he does not appear to immediately recognise him. 'Really, if you people must continue to come bursting in here and interrupting my--' but then he interrupts himself. 'Half a moment, is that--Sir Walter's valet? What was the name, oh...Simon, was it? Sirius Simon Black?'

T: Whoa, bandwagon indeed. o.O Poor Stephen's going to be a bit out of sync, he may have to millstone the gentleman again--!

[thistledownking]

Typist: You had best not give him any ideas again, Mr Strange--!

[ironicalsmile]

T: Behaloed!Strange will just be reading his book, here...

[stephenblack]

"Stephen Black, sir." Stephen was wracking his brains to try and remember how and why this gentleman knew almost who he was.

[colored_gowns]

"Why, Stephen Black?" Arabella seems a bit surprised. She had not given much thought, in all honesty, to Sir Pole's valet since her own return from Lost-Hope, but is glad to see that he has, apparently, escaped as well.

[stephenblack]

"Yes, madam?" He looks confused and probably a good seven or so years younger than she remembers.

[colored_gowns]

He does, at that, but as Arabella has yet to experience the strange time-transcending properties of the mansion first hand, this thought does not come immediately to mind. "I do hope this means you have escaped?"

[stephenblack]

"Escaped, madam?"