Enter, Master Snakebite

[not_snake_bite]

"Ha! You ill-begotten, unworthy wretch!  You did not kill me!  Nothing can kill Master Steerpike, nothing!" He claims, repeats, singing and dancing madly as he flails in the darkening, rainy night.  Until... In a surprising deft movement he turns and stares at an uncanny source of light, a beacon in the night, and he suddenly realized he is no

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[hardlyagravated]

Laurel's had a long day; snapped at by a suicidally depressed teenager, utterly unsuccessful at finding her husband, and feeling very alone at present. But she's long internalized manners as a survival skill, and curtseys shallowly.

"Good eve, sir," quietly but not timidly, perhaps the fairer for her preoccupation, though it's been long enough since anyone found her so.

[hardlyagravated]

"If you like," and there's almost a little smile. "I won't be far."

[not_snake_bite]

"Yes, I would like," he says, still clutching the door. "It won't be very long."

And indeed, it wont - for some reason unknown to him, Steerpike is wanting to see her again. Perhaps it is for kindnesses shown, when he stills bears the mask.

[hardlyagravated]

She nods, and slips out to leave him to change. A few minutes later, she knocks lightly. "Did you find something that suits, sir?"

[not_snake_bite]

Steerpike hasn't lost anytime -and in the short while he spent rummaging the closet, he located a shirt (unfortunately frilly, but he's not complaining), some breeches that fit nicely into some riding boots. Overall, he looks like a pirate. A pirate with a mask, hiding half his face - fortunately, the presentable half of him can be pleasant, he flatters himself.

"I believe I did, gentle Laurel," he replies as he opens the door.

[hardlyagravated]

"That must be better." She doesn't comment on the frilliness of the shirt, as she doesn't know when or where he's from. "I hope you are warmer, at least."

[not_snake_bite]

"Yes, indeed," Steerpike replies. He is incredibly grateful that he didn't need to stand by the fireplace with this lovely woman - his idiosyncrasy to fire would have perhaps hampered his admirable self control.

"And you, my dear, look charming as ever. Forgive me for not mentioning it earlier."

[hardlyagravated]

Her eyebrows lift a bit; it's been a good while since anyone said so. "I thank you, sir."

[not_snake_bite]

And having paid his compliment, he offers her his arm with all the charm he can muster - which is no small amount, of course.

"Would you do me the honor of introducing me to this adobe, fair dame?" he asks gallantly.

[hardlyagravated]

"The little I know." She takes it. "You've seen the main room already, so really the only other place to show indoors is the kitchen. And there are enough bedrooms for you to pick one that suits."

[not_snake_bite]

"No ballroom, to entertain the youths of this place?" he asks with a quirked eyebrow. Not that Steerpike dances, usually - but he might use such an activity to other means, if it were profitable to his goals.

[hardlyagravated]

"Perhaps there is. I imagine if you wanted one, it would turn up. It's a place that works more by wanting than by logic."

[not_snake_bite]

Steerpike's smile changes inexorably - it is no longer the smile of a gallant wishing to please, but rather that of an excited child who just got a treat. He very rarely smiles like that, and it makes him feel very strange inside.

"How wonderful," he observes. "Does wanting influence others as well, then?"

T: For timeline purposes, please leave the plothole explanation as vague as possible - I posted something on the plothole's quit post that would be otherwise counteracted.

On another note, good thing the plot hole quit - Steerpike might have exhausted the poor thing with his never ending ambition and greed.

[hardlyagravated]

The smile draws a bit of wariness from her, though she doesn't release his arm. "No, sir. Only the house itself."

T: Will do!

[not_snake_bite]

"What a relief," he replies, smiling still in thought of all the endless possibilities this brings. "And please, do call me Steerpike."

The idea of being called by his familiar by one such as Laurel pleases him more than he'd admit to himself - but he nevertheless basks in the concept.

T: Thanks a bunch. He's so creepy charming, isn't he?

[hardlyagravated]

"Very well, Steerpike," she says, quiet. "Here's the kitchen." And she ushers him in. "There's usually quite enough food, in cabinets and in that white box for cold things."