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[adamant_command]

Lately, an obsession with escaping this world by his own means had occupied Lord Asriel's mind. He spent days on end pouring over schematics in the kitchen of his house on the beach. And in his recent fit of seclusion, he had neglected to visit any of the Island’s public facilities for far longer than he should have. The post room, for instance:

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[adorablespike]

Miss Dearheart didn't check the post office often. Why should she? The last time she had, someone had sent her something horrible enough it warranted transplanting in another person's mailbox.

She had forgotten about it by the time he found it, though. And she was on her way past to go get a cup of coffee when she saw him with it. Stopping, she stared in horror and then in amusement, fighting back the laughter that threatened to explode out of her at the sight of Lord Asriel holding the most glaringly pink and obvious sextoy in the history of sextoys.

"It suits you," she said, stepping into the office, a barely-concealed smile hovering around the corners of her mouth.

[adamant_command]

"I don't suppose you had anything to do with this?" said Lord Asriel as he rounded on an insufferably smug Miss Dearheart. And while the light had served to force the inevitable realization on him that what he held was not something he ought to be touching with his bare hands, his confusion over its presence in his post box held firm.

[adorablespike]

Already in the process of lighting a cigarette, Adora Belle quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Would I do something like that?" she asked archly.

[adamant_command]

"Because you're you," he replied through a curt and none too subtle growl. However, he didn't seem particularly interested in pursuing the accusation; evidently, he'd already made up his mind in that regard as he looked around him for a suitable means to dispose of the thing.