January 11, 2025 – 8:30 PM
3rd January, 1895 — High Street
Tess had closed the printshop on New Year’s Day, to let them get to the festivities at the park, and because everyone had been working so hard over the holidays and up to the new year that tensions were high. Ned Whitby had died the previous November, so the month would have been hard enough to get through even before Maggie’s arrival sending everyone for a loop. Still afraid of the other shoe dropping, and the other ramifications that might come with that, they had worked solidly through, looking high and low for any business they could get to bolster their savings all that they could.
She had been in Diagon Alley a few days ago, up to her neck in stress – and a bonbon was unlikely to fix anything, no matter how Tess wished she didn’t care so much about everything. But she had had a better night’s sleep since, and didn’t feel fazed by anything. Take today, for example: something had gone wrong with the presses, or the typesetting, or a bad batch of ink – it was skipping letters on their print jobs. Tess had glanced at the first pamphlet when it came out spelling SU--RAGE (she had left the paid jobs to the others, and set about on her own thing) and just laughed. All the jobs were the same, missing letters here and there. Until they fixed this, work would necessarily grind to a halt. This was, strictly speaking, more Tess’ problem than Enoch’s or Declan’s.
But she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead she’d gone out as Archer – for some pre-arranged meeting with a supplier – and had made it no further than The Hog’s Head. She wasn’t quite sure how, or why, but... she had had a drink, and some food, and then a few more drinks – when she thought of the money she was throwing away, she could only think why not? – and apparently it had gotten dark around her before she had made any attempt to return to the printshop. Oh well.
The others might wonder where she had been, but – she wasn’t worried. It felt rather freeing, actually, even more than usual when she was ambling the streets as Archer. It didn’t matter what she did. Nothing mattered at all.
Oh – here was Declan, out on the street! That was a coincidence. Having long forgotten all the trials of the day she had put out of mind as soon as she’d left, Tess grinned at him. “I stole your jacket,” she admitted, unabashed, presuming that was what he was looking for – he’d left it on a table, and she had been too lazy to find her own before going. If her Archer clothes were loose on her, Declan’s jacket was really too big, but then – who cared?
She had been in Diagon Alley a few days ago, up to her neck in stress – and a bonbon was unlikely to fix anything, no matter how Tess wished she didn’t care so much about everything. But she had had a better night’s sleep since, and didn’t feel fazed by anything. Take today, for example: something had gone wrong with the presses, or the typesetting, or a bad batch of ink – it was skipping letters on their print jobs. Tess had glanced at the first pamphlet when it came out spelling SU--RAGE (she had left the paid jobs to the others, and set about on her own thing) and just laughed. All the jobs were the same, missing letters here and there. Until they fixed this, work would necessarily grind to a halt. This was, strictly speaking, more Tess’ problem than Enoch’s or Declan’s.
But she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead she’d gone out as Archer – for some pre-arranged meeting with a supplier – and had made it no further than The Hog’s Head. She wasn’t quite sure how, or why, but... she had had a drink, and some food, and then a few more drinks – when she thought of the money she was throwing away, she could only think why not? – and apparently it had gotten dark around her before she had made any attempt to return to the printshop. Oh well.
The others might wonder where she had been, but – she wasn’t worried. It felt rather freeing, actually, even more than usual when she was ambling the streets as Archer. It didn’t matter what she did. Nothing mattered at all.
Oh – here was Declan, out on the street! That was a coincidence. Having long forgotten all the trials of the day she had put out of mind as soon as she’d left, Tess grinned at him. “I stole your jacket,” she admitted, unabashed, presuming that was what he was looking for – he’d left it on a table, and she had been too lazy to find her own before going. If her Archer clothes were loose on her, Declan’s jacket was really too big, but then – who cared?