31st October, 1894 — Halloween Creature Feature, Podmore Zoological Gardens

This was not the sort of event one came to to be seen – there were curses and blessings to this, both. This was no high society Halloween; this was hardly society at all. So hopefully this meant her personal boggart, Iphigenia Adebayo, would not be here to ruin her evening (although Miss Adebayo would be perfectly on theme amongst the horrifying array of beasts and creeping creatures; in her animagus form she would suit life very well in an enclosure).

In any case, she had come with her father rather than one of her more society-minded aunts, which was not much of a dampener to her mood tonight; as a magizoologist, Mr. Farris was in his element, and after they had taken a turn about the place he had gotten caught up with one of the other magizoologists or employees about the creatures or the enchantments, she wasn’t sure. Truthfully, she hadn’t been listening.

Mattie was well-acquainted with the zoological gardens, particularly as they were local to Irvingly, but the darkened enclosures of the exhibition were unfamiliar enough to be a little thrilling. She hadn’t been scared of the acromantula, the dugbogs or the clabbert; she had been simultaneously repulsed and fascinated by the kappa, and had watched it a while in the gloom before moving on alone. She turned a corner and couldn’t see anything in what must be the next exhibit; she took another step forwards in the darkness and something swooped towards her, so close that she could feel its wings flapping near her face. Something stopped it – the enchantments, she supposed; of course they would not have let a swooping evil attack the visitors! – but not before Mattie could hear the drum of her heart in her ears. In the shock of the moment and her gasp of breath, she had also (unintentionally – at least mostly unintentionally?) reached to the side in the dim light and grasped someone by their upper arm, clinging to them as if for safety.

---

“Oh, I didn’t see it coming this way,” Mattie said breathlessly – this was only ever so slightly put-upon, because she might not have admitted to any fright at all if it were not for the gentle concern at her side. Close at her side, a warm solid presence... with rather firm biceps. She was in no rush, she discovered, to let go.

She turned into him a little as if she needed any protection from the creature safe in the enclosure, presently content to play the damsel. His eyes were a bright, pleasing blue. Perhaps the swooping evil had not needed to sting her with its venom to make her lose all memory of her fright, after all: he was doing very well at distracting her from everything else without trying. But better not recover too soon... so, still clinging on, she let out another breathless laugh, as if in heady relief. “I can’t seem to catch my breath,” she explained, confidingly. “My heart’s still racing.” That was true: she was so conscious of it, dreadfully loud in her chest, that she would almost be surprised he couldn’t hear it too.

---

She felt sure he had already seen through her and her feint at any faintness, just from those three words that won’t do and the accompanying gleam in his eyes.

Mattie had only been in society for one short season, but she had already discerned two types of gentlemen one might encounter. There were the ones who seemed almost oblivious to anything that was not explicitly said, incapable of reading anything under the surface and ultimately rendered awkward by anything more than polite small talk; and then there were the men who understood everything, who depended on teasing out all sorts of things from ladies between the lines, who found all of society a pleasing game. Mattie had found she enjoyed prodding at the first sort all the same, for if they were not bores then they would at least become amusingly flustered; but of course the latter kind of man was inevitably the most exciting, for all he was no doubt the more dangerous. Mattie already bet (if ladies were allowed to make bets, of course) that this man was one of the latter. (Or did she just hope it? But there was a certain smoothness to the way he was leading her away, an ease with himself she thought had to be natural.)

“Thank you,” Mattie expressed, once they had come to a halt near the exits. She was loath to extricate herself from his supportive grasp too quickly, so while she loosened her hand slightly in his, she didn’t quite step away from the hand at her back. It was fine: if she was still a little unsteady on her feet, he would have to stay there as a necessary precaution. “I do feel a little better already.” From the fresher breath of air here. Not to mention that the better light over here gave her leave to see him better. (Was it dreadful that she was already more interested in him than half of the special exhibits?) “Are my cheeks still red?” she queried, in a more matter-of-fact tone, though she had a similarly playful look in her eyes; now that they were a little more out of the way, there was no need to play at breathlessness. “I suddenly felt very warm.”

---

She sucked in a breath as he moved his hand away, for a moment unsure of what he was going to do with it – but then he tilted her chin up towards him. To better observe the colour of her cheeks as she had asked, of course, but – he knew perfectly well what he was doing, she was sure. Mattie considered herself rather grounded compared to the average debutante, clever and skeptical and pragmatic, aware of the world and its goings on... and particularly what she could get away with in her place in it. That was really all she cared about for the moment – not love or marriage or grand romance; not the society ambitions many of her debutante peers shared, nor the academic triumphs she had been focused on a year ago. Just identifying the parameters of society, and pressing on the boundaries of acceptable to see just how much one might get away without ill consequence.

She hadn’t expected this handsome stranger’s fleeting hand at her chin to send her stomach somersaulting as it had – but she felt a brief burst of something like butterflies. Probably just from the confident nonchalance of his gesture, Mattie decided vehemently, repressing any real temptation to blush – she would rather die than lose so easily at this game. So she kept her gaze directly on him, and returned his smirk with a coy smile of her own. “I wonder why,” she said, like he was not now the entire reason for any warmth she felt. She fanned herself with her hand for a moment, in case anyone else was looking over and still thought her feeling faint; but Mattie’s eyes had remained very deliberately on him, dragging her gaze slowly over his features, along his jawline and across his facial hair; she would not get away with touching him even fleetingly like that, but at the very least she could enjoy imagining it, her hand against his stubble.

“Matilda Farris,” she introduced, meanwhile; because if he hadn’t known her before now she was inclined that he should remember her in future. “And you are?”

---

Much as she enjoyed a conversation, Mattie was rather tempted to do away with any further talking at all – not when he had met her gaze like that. His gaze seemed articulate enough, enough to make the lingering eye contact alone a thrill. But she couldn’t allow herself to be too distracted by his gaze, or Mr. Dean Hudson would merely think her a fool of a girl. “The pleasure’s all mine,” she returned – and the words came more smoothly than usual, because for once it was not just the obligation of politeness. She really was pleased.

So she bit her lip, mock-shyly, at his offer of refreshment, pretending for a moment to be torn between his company and going back to see the rest of the creature exhibits even a little bit. “You know, refreshment might be necessary,” Mattie concluded. “Thank you. I have worked up rather a thirst.” From all that exertion of her racing heart and the thrills in the dark. Her mouth might still be a little dry. (But that, she was quite aware, was entirely from the way he had also not stepped away.)

She cast a quick glance past him, back towards the enclosures – she had not forgotten her father was somewhere back there. But he was ensconced in conversation with his type of person (a fellow magizoologist) so there was no telling how long he would yet be occupied, and how little else he would notice in the meantime. She could probably be gone for half an hour and wander back before he moved on and caught up to her, not realising she had ever left his vicinity. Besides, if anyone else were to see her, it was still a busy event, and if they went out to the drinks area, there would still be plenty of people about. It was simple enough to excuse: she could say she had gone with a friend to the pavilion, and a gentleman had asked her to dance under the fairy lights. There was nothing at all untoward about that. (There was admittedly perhaps something untoward in her imagination, hoping that he might just lead her away from the dancing instead.)

She leant in a little as she fell into step with him, taking advantage of the moment to speak a little more under her breath – though still teasing, and not at all worried at the prospect. “As long as you promise to return me in one piece.”

---

“Do you, indeed?” Mattie murmured, with a quiet hum of appreciation and a slight flash of a smirk a back. “Now that is a promise.” Very encouraging. She was amused by the remark, and impressed with him – and although that answer might speak to his having a rather high opinion of himself, there was a distinct gleam in his eye, so Mattie took it not as conceit but as sheer playfulness. And thus far it was proving true – she was in higher spirits than she had been a few moments ago.

Then came his question of drinks. (And Mattie did hate to be predictable, so she would have been distressed to think that he had already anticipated her answer, but...) Lemonade was never the answer, and while Mattie had acquired something of a taste for wine (and the sorts served at parties generally tasted better to her palate than the collection of fortified ports and Madeiras in her father’s study, which always tasted sweet and cloying) she knew it went to her head faster than champagne, and she didn’t want to appear too much of a try-hard, or too sloppy so early in their meeting. She had to be able to hold her own.

So – “Champagne, I suppose,” she answered, with an airy shrug. The drinks were hardly her focus here – but if it gave her another excuse to make eye contact with him, she would take it. She glanced up at him again. “Why, what will you have?” Whatever he did have, she would be half-tempted to go along with it in spite of her prior choice. She didn’t know whether she could keep up with Mr. Hudson here (or anywhere, for that matter), but she was certainly not averse to trying.

---

She took the champagne flute he passed her, allowing her fingers to brush quite deliberately against his hand before he could let it go. “Well,” she resolved conspiratorially, taking a sip of her champagne, “then you shall have to let me try a whiskey next.”

She did not know whether she would be able to hide out here with him for that long, but she was rather determined to try. The whiskey would have a worse effect than the wine would have, she knew – but she was particularly interested in learning more about Mr. Hudson’s tastes, so she would take that risk.

Even if he was trying to ask her about herself. She huffed a small laugh, sure he would be disappointed with any of the dull facts of her upbringing or present existence. “I’m afraid the daily life of a debutante is hardly thrilling,” she pointed out, with a wry roll of her eyes. She imagined his life was more interesting. “Though I ought to assure you I don’t usually scare so easily as just then,” she laughed, about her practically leaping into his arms before. “And to admit I don’t suppose I have a great deal of patience for small talk.” She was teasing a little, attempting to prod at the boundaries of convention, hoping he might rock the boat while there was no one listening in – ask me something else.

---

Of course there were things she did with her time, but she nearly always grew bored of them. Though she was not yet bored of him, in spite of her impatience with small talk – and he knew that full well, she fancied. He was teasing her. She shot him a look to say oh, I think you know.

“Alright, then – I like leisure sports, if you must know,” she said lightly. True enough; she had run the club at school. Games, sports, anything physical. “Anything competitive, and any challenge at all. I like trying new things, mostly,” Mattie added, and if this were small talk then it was was all not to be thought on or taken seriously, even if she did mean it: she liked things she could win, and getting her way. She paused to drain her champagne – so that she could move on to whiskey, or to have her hands free again; and looked back at him meaningfully, tongue in cheek. What else could they do, indeed? “And I favour action over words. What about you – what is it you like to do?”

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