How Domitian had managed to find Campion's home was beyond his wildest imaginings. If someone had written down numbered instructions he probably would have gotten as far as the third step before getting hopelessly lost. That, and as soon as he'd gotten to the part about 'crossing the basin' he probably would have chickened out. Who had ever heard of a galdor crossing the basin in the history of ever?!

But somehow he had woken up (at one o clock no less) with an itch in his legs and decided to go visit the man he'd met not a few days ago. Also his Aunt had written him a blistering, terrifying letter that he didn't really want to think about too much. And through what Dom concidered a series of miracles and misunderstandings, he had somehow found his way to the right building.

...Maybe.

Domitian Pitt adjusted his collar and tugged on his gloves. Wouldn't it be a riot if Campion wasn't even there. And he'd walked all this way (and tipped that woman a truly ridiculous amount of money just so she could point him to the street parallel to the one he was standing in) for nothing.

He lifted his walking stick and rapped on the door, trying not to look conspicuously rich. It was hard for him, because he was wearing a particularly tasteful new coat. Only because his other one had finally torn open after being used without fail every day for four years. Dom didn't like to buy new things. He'd just have to tough this one out.

He tapped on the door again.

Dom needn't have worried. Campion was, of course, there- in fact there were very few other places the young man was likely to be. As it was, the blond galdor found himself battling through yet another cryptic crossword- and a devilishly tricky one at that.

The pots and pans collecting rain water from a leaky ceiling were left to their own devices though Campion was comforted just a little by the faint drip, drip, drip as water hit tin- the beating constant, reliable, expected.

The knock on his door was rather surprising however, and far more genteel than the hammering of the few others who had visited him. Still, it did little to excite the galdor who slowly crossed the tiny living space. Damp socks were left to languish over the window sill, forgotten sheets of newspaper rustled as though for attention and the collar of Campion's shirt was unbuttoned, ungaldori.

On the other side of the door, Dom in his new coat was everything that Campion's mother would have liked him to be- well presented, well turned out, the thin gossamer of social acceptance wearing thin but not quite broken. The two young men were one in the same, really- a portrait labeled what might have bee in careful cursive, but for a few bad decisions here and there and Campion wasn't sure how he felt about the man's arrival in his home. Bafflement? Or something ominous?

Nevertheless, Campion smiled and hoped that the gathering rainclouds overhead weren't trying to warn him in their own overly dramatic way. Behind him the ceiling still dripped into tin pots.

"Hullo, Dom I wasn't expecting to see you." Campion stood wedged in the doorway, spreading his meager width in order to hide his apartment with that old golly pride, though the smell of damp and a thick inky musk wafted unmistakably over the air. "Not at all. Your aunt needs to give you a job in the seventen, seems you have quite the knack for finding people. Particularly me."

Finding people. Campion swallowed and remembered. Dom reminded him of that awful night- of how helpless he felt to learn of Daisy's disappearance, of his grievous mistakes and even of the blonde passive who, as hard as he tried, would not leave his mind.

"To what do I owe the pleasure this time, Dom?"
They've found Daisy, maybe. She's happy and well, ready to go off and live some kind of ruddy-cheeked farm-yard country lifestyle with one of those ghastly humans built like a brickhouse and an army of blond eyed, blue haired children.

It seemed unlikely, in the grand scheme of things. This was Anaxas, where the children went hungry, the passives hid a plethora of thin white scars beneath their clothes and the roofs leaked with a quiet- almost timid, drip, drip, drip into battered old pans.

(( Sorry this took so long! ))

"Gods forbid." Dom said, wrinkling his nose. He had never had the illusion that a life 'protecting the public' would be a glamorous one. His aunt complained enough of all the people constantly trying to stick their noses in and ruin investigations. Besides, why get a job when you could...well...not get a job. "No, no. I'd say it's a combination of dumb luck, and just have a knack for asking people the right questions...It's not really all that hard." He smiled cheerfully, and took off his glasses to wipe them haphazardly on his shirt. He wasn't going to mention the incident at the basin, no he was not.

"Just stopping by! My Aunt sent me a scathing letter accusing me of taking advantage of her connection to the Seventen for my friends. She's very paranoid about it. I thought I'd get out of the house before she visited me in person." He said mildly, clearing his throat and glancing behind Campion curiously in a 'are you going to let me in or are we going to stand in your doorway' sort of fashion.

"Either way I had planned to visit you at some point. You didn't seem insufferably stuffy when I met you the last time, which is more than I can say of most galdori." His demeanor wasn't excessively cheerful but there was an aura of laid back exuberance and affability that most gollies didn't have. It was a change from the last time Campion had seen him, where Dom had been a bit of an awkward, embarrassed, nervous wreck.

Despite his nice coat, though, Domitian still looked sloppy. He had missed a few spots shaving, his hat was on crooked, his vest was buttoned wrong, and one of the tails of his shirt was poking out of his pants. Perhaps he'd never learned to dress himself when he was a child.

Just. Stopping. By? Campion blinked at the casual way Dom threw this sentence out into the ether. Gollys did not just stop by the dives, not usually. But Dom was a fairly unusual person, one meeting had rather given him that impression. And the blond galdor supposed it wouldn't do to have the other lurking on his doorstep, regardless of the state of his home.

Shuffling back, with a kind of weary conciliation, Campion indicated that Dom should come inside- his expression clearly one of oh if you really must.

"Hard to appear stuffy when one is necking back whiskey, I imagine," shrugged Campion feeling a sudden taste of soap on his tongue. "Sorry to hear I invoked the wrath of Brinny Pitt...she's rather," he struggled with the right word and waved his hand as though the gesture was enough.

"But she's going to help find Daisy, which is the important thing really. And when she's safe at home everything can..." go back to the way things were?..oh yes of course, aside from all of Campion's horrible life decisions. Another wave of his hands, another train of thought dismissed like some wilting plant. "You've not seen her sister recently have you..." Campion retreated into his house, indicating Dom should follow and made for the kitchen, "Would you like some tea? I'm not sure I have any milk though- unless a cow crept into my cupboard while I was sleeping..." It was unlikely really, given the size of the filthy little kitchen.

Ruffling the back of his hair awkwardly he gave Dom a small sheepish grin, "I don't...ah... entertain much....you can probably tell. For some reason the young and beautiful galdori socialites don't seem to appreciate the charm of the dives."

"Yes, quite." The other man said seriously, nodding at Campion's assessment of his Aunt. She was just... it was best not to think about her too hard.

"Yes I did, actually. She was happy to hear the seventen were bothering to do something about it instead of scratching their arses the whole day." He didn't even sound nervous when he said it, which was odd, considering what the times these days were like. "Yes, tea's fine!" He called as he walked in behind Campion, looking around the place exuberantly.

"Charm?" Dom said with a grin as he went in, "Are you joking? The Dives is a foul, sticky, smelly pit from hell. I rather like it that way. You can make a mess and nobody cares. It also acts like a repellent for annoying people. " He put his hands in his coat pocket and leaned on the wall. "You've been well, though?"

"I've... been making a mess," said Campion fiddling with the tea pot, speaking of the room among other things. "Here they may not mind. But in Brunnhold..."

The water was boiled, and the teapot screamed for attention. After a clatter the tea was made- dark and bitter with no milk or sugar. Campion handed to Dom and sipped from his teacup. "And yourself? Disease free I hope," he grinned a little into the murky brown water the colour of sewage running down a gutter.

Spotting a pain almost full with water, Campion grabbed the handle and opened the small window, letting water drip outside. "But yes...I find myself willing this terrible season to be over. It's hardly been a pleasant Loshis- you can understand?"

"Yes well. That's why I don't go to Brunnhold....er...very often." Dom quirked his mouth to the side and scanned the floor for a less damp spot. He wasn't sure he trusted the chairs. He sat down near the wall comfortably.

"Fortunately, yes! I've been much more choosy since you mentioned it to me last time." He said with a grin, and raised his eyebrows at Campion's last comment. "No, actually. I've had a splendid Loshis. Do tell, though. Is it just about your er...friend Daisy or is something else besides the rain keeping you down?"

"Complicated," said Campion evasively, sipping his tea. It was far too hot and burnt his tongue, like a poker pressed onto his flesh, like a branding iron. He did so want to tell someone...this business with Triston, whether she was safe, waiting on a letter, waiting on Daisy. Waiting. Hating.

Domitan wouldn't judge him. Probably. Not with his taste for the lower race women. But even so, a human whore was one thing and what Campion had done...No. It just wouldn't do to go spreading these things about.

And yet, Campion felt his secret tightening, like a fist over something small. Like a bug- or a butterfly. Palms crushing delicate wings which flapped desperately for an escape. In the dark it tore and broke, suffocating, longing for a release from-

No. It just wouldn't do to go spreading these things about.

Something about Dom made Campion need a strong drink, he decided, well aware that this was a subtle shift of blame. Wondering if this was where things started, Campion looked at his cup- a whiskey when things got tough for the poor little privileged golly boy, leading to bad decisions, to breaking and to loathing which led to...

"Would you like to go find somewhere to drink?" he said suddenly. "A bar, a tavern? Somewhere in The Dives?"

A golly friend might be good for him. Someone like him. His sort as Campion's mother Hyzenthlay would say. Humans drowned themselves in cheap gin, gollies in champagne. Sometimes Campion wondered if everyone saw something he didn't, because beneath the clothes, the skin and the fields, all that anybody really had was blood and bone.

"A drink would do me good I suspect."

Dom didn't comment on the abrupt change of subject. "Drinks! Drinks to cure all ills and...and... well, to get drunk from, I suppose." He paused, obviously not quite fantastic at wording what he was thinking. "Fantastic. Do you know any places? I've got a few old favorites but I'm always up for finding something new and cheap! And preferably somewhere where we wont get murdered in an alley?...I... always botch my monic whenever I'm drunk, so I'm afraid I wont be much protection!"

He paused and scratched his chin. "Er. Not that you need protecting, but frankly I suspect we'll be getting absolutely trashed so I wouldn't risk either of us using monic. Must come from having so many bloody seventen in my family." He made a face and got up, stretching comfortably. "I suppose the tea's off, then?"

It was hard not to think about Daisy at the mention of 'murdered in an alley' but Campion pushed down this unease as best as he could.

"I'm all for not getting assaulted. But my ability is hardly the best when I'm sober- I might actually be a monic genius inebriated- I'm not sure I could get much worse."

"I'm afraid the tea might be rather... disgusting. I'm sure one of your old favourites would be lovely in the way of bars. I can't say I've explored much of the Dive's...nightlife." Never mind that the last time Campion had been brave enough to venture outside past decent hours his evening had ended in somebody else's bed with a sore face after headbutting a human.

Rescuing Margaret from her place, Campion put the hat on his head and grabbed a coat- a moth bitten find from one of the shops in the Dives, his favourite jacket was still in Brunnhold and the young galdor was hardly tripping over himself to return and reclaim it. Aurelie had probably made an effigy with it and burnt the model Campion over a slow roast on a spit in the kitchens of the university.

"Lead on, Dom," said Campion with a smile, holding the door open.

Domitian may have cringed a little when Campion told him to lead on. He really wasn't an expert of locations in the Dives...except maybe of the red light district, but did that even really count? He racked his brains. The Book and the Bell? Shifty... maybe not. The Toy Lantern? He'd heard they served to gollies, but Portia had been there lately and he definitely didn't want to run into her. Ever. At all.

"I think I know the perfect place." Dom said airily, sauntering outside and heading off in a random direction. Campion soon found out it was random because Dom had to stop and ask for directions several times, all the while chatting amiably with anything that would listen. Strangely enough, Dom never came out and asked a question when he spoke to humans. Half the time they hadn't even realized they were giving directions until the pair had found a new street to go down. He didn't seem like he was looking for anywhere in particular... just going somewhere for the sake of it.

And yet, they somehow found themselves in front of The Clockwork Stag, a bar just north of the soot district. Early but not shamefully early... the place was open after all (somewhere in the back of his mind Domitian wondered if bars ever closed...he'd always gotten thrown out of them before he could find out).

The outside was dismal and Dom cleared his throat awkwardly. Never judge a book by its cover...right? The clothes flapping in the wind just above them were just...well they sure as hell weren't silk flags.

"Really just wasn't in the mood for going to the Toy Lantern... Some girls have been lurking about there that I've had a few ah...altercations with...anyway you'd best not know." Dom said airily, cleaning his glasses as he pushed the door open.

[[ http://thornsbook.com/wiki/pmwiki.php?n ... ckworkStag ]]

[Sorry for the confusion! We're moving to viewtopic.php?f=4&t=2900 since there's already been a thread made. :9!]