17th March, 1889 — Flourish and Blotts, during this time

A Sunday well spent, he had considered. Evander had even taken the opportunity to indulge himself and browsed the shelves for a fair time before picking up his order. He had gotten so engrossed in The Life and Works of Cornelius Agrippa that he had nearly forgotten to pick up the newest edition of Meditations on Modern Portkey Legislation: The Complete & Unabridged Guide. Imagine!

"You there! Stop there!"

He fumbled in his step at the surprise of it, clutching disconcertedly at the parcel of books he had in hand, tied up neatly in string. He cast a frown at the closest customer to him as he made for the front doors of the shop alongside them, wondering at the fact that they had not stopped to oblige the instruction. After all, the cashier could not possibly be talking to him. (He had forgotten none of his books, not forgotten to pay, had even counted out the exact coins for his payment three times before he had left the house, and once again at the counter.) The cashier sounded decidedly unhappy though, so Evander quickened his pace, hardly wanting to be witness to such a scene. Whoever had invoked such wrath, he was sure it was not him!

(It was him.)

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   Idunn Fraser

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Deciding to go on the hunt for a new book to read - and to perhaps pick up a copy of the J. Alfred Darrow book that he had helped illustrate to send to a couple of distant relatives that had inquired about it - Jacques had made his way to Floruish and Blotts. When someone he didn't think he even knew cast a frown at him, he rose an eyebrow. The cashier certainly was not speaking of him!

As it happened, the cashier seemed intent on the man who had frowned at him. Jacques was not really one to intervene (he was most definitely a lover not a fighter) but he had felt like the man thought it was him - or trying to make it seem that way! "Trying to cast the blame for your thievery is hardly gentlemanly behavior," Jacques stated as he tried to help the cashier out by blocking the door.

  

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1/4 vampire, french accent

Evander's forehead furrowed deeply as everything about this situation began to freefall very fast. If the other man's accusatory eyebrow raise had not been bad enough, he had now moved - deliberately - into the doorway, and had branded him the culprit.

How he could be considered a thief when his purchases had been parcelled up at the counter in plain view of everyone, Evander did not know, but he folded his arms more protectively about the package of books all the same. He could hear the march of the shopworker's footsteps on his way, but Evander valiantly resisted the temptation to barrel out of the shop simply to avoid the awkwardness of this scene, well aware of how that would look.

He had meant to stand his ground, bewildered but upright, without bandying about any unnecessary, uncivilised words with the man thrusting undue blame his way. However. "I should not think thieves are usually known for their gentlemanly behaviour," Evander cut in in spite of himself, only pressed to speak at all by the compulsive urge for pedantry. Once the logic of this accuser's sentence had been cleared up, though, he was left conscious of... arguably... the more critical issue here. "And I defy you to call me a thief again, sir!" he muttered, trying not to lose his cool but already considerably perturbed. Whoever had heard of anything more preposterous?

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Jacques didn't tend to begrudge petty criminals - he had his own proclivities that would warrant a bit of jail time. Used to be punishable by death though thankfully that had been abolished in 1861. Even so. He did not relish spending time in a jail cell despite his indifference to his 'good name'.

The man did seem genuinely confused as to why the shopkeeper was keen on him being a thief, however. "If you are not a thief then the shopworker must have some misunderstanding with you for they are aiming directly for you," Jacques said, indicating the ever approaching shopworker who was starting to look a little more red.

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1/4 vampire, french accent

Five minutes ago, the doubtful cast of his aspersion if you are not a thief would have wounded Evander to the core. Now, he was grateful for it, because even the injection of some uncertainty was rather a step up. Now, if only the cashier could begin to see it that way -

Evander turned to face the shop worker at the other man's warning, aware he had better appeal his innocence than prove the false accusation by fleeing. The embarrassment of this - even if it got cleared up here and now, even if the gentleman beside him did not tell a soul - would have its effect on Evander in a great many sleepless nights this week, that much was certain.

The cashier made it to them - nearly beetroot, now - and launched into his tirade, in a most severe tone: "What do you have to say for yourself, you confounding cheat?"

Nervously, Evander glanced sideways at the witness to all this, stealing (borrowing!) his phrase for his own defence. "I believe there must - there must be some misunderstanding here. I hadn't any intention of -"  

"Where's the money for those books, then?" The cashier replied, urging them back towards the till. "Gone, isn't it?"

Dear Merlin, what had he done?

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Jacques watched the next scene unfold with keen interest. The man seemed to be genuinely perplexed as to what was going on and why he was being treated like a common criminal. The strangers saving grace would likely be that Jacques did not know his name so even when he told this story, no one was likely to tie it to the other man.

Jacques shrugged simply when the man glanced at him. The money was gone? Jacques could not help but be mildly confused. The man seemed equally insistent that he had paid. The cashier was equally as insistent that he had not. "Could the money just have been misplaced? Dropped behind the register perhaps?"

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1/4 vampire, french accent

In a breath, the bystander had become his ally, something for which Evander was truly grateful, even if he might’ve preferred no one else be in the shop to see this downfall of his at all. He latched onto the other man’s suggestion with keenness, scanning the floor around the tills for any sign of his wayward coins. He had handed them over as any honest man would, truly!

But they did not seem to be on the floor. And were not, as the cashier so compellingly displayed to them both now, in the cash register.

“I just can’t understand it,” Evander muttered, his face flushed in continued disbelief, as he rummaged for his coin-purse to draw out another payment, to just pay the amount a second time in order to be done with this. (He would pay ten times the amount if he could forget it.) “Well, I’ll -” pay you now, with my sincerest apologies, he had been beginning to say, only he had loosened the drawstrings only to find a very empty coin-purse before him. Merlin, how! It was as though the money had disappeared. "...Never mind."

With an expression of most profound consternation, Evander silently handed the packaged books back over to the shopworker in shamefaced defeat. He couldn’t pay for them now, and couldn’t take them if he couldn’t pay - and no doubt the cashier would not be tempted to put them on credit.

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Jacques, for his part, took a look around as well. It was indeed a mystery though Jacques was inclined to believe the man to not be a thief. He seemed genuine in his confusion. He watched as the man pulled out his coin purse only to seemingly have no money on him. By now, Jac was beginning to feel for the man. Had he perhaps been robbe while none of them had been the wiser? There were certainly enough sticky fingered street urchins that lurked about High Street.

"Perhaps I could purchase them for you and you could give me an I.O.U?" Jacques offered sympathetically.

  

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1/4 vampire, french accent

Truly, it made no sense! Unless he was beginning to lose his mind - and Evander had not expected senility to set in quite so soon - he had paid at the till, and the money had quite promptly vanished into thin air. Or someone's pockets.

Evander did not have it in him, in his chagrin, to solve the mystery, or to argue about his paying. It would be a dreadful shame to leave his books, but - he glanced over at the witness and his gentlemanly offer of charity. "I couldn't possibly," Evander protested, as any English gentleman's etiquette would instruct him to; no, he would have to politely refuse, go away and come back again another day...

Merlin, but he would never be able to set foot here again. Therefore - "But if you are quite willing?" Evander echoed, searching for the merest hint of hesitation, upon which he would decline once more; judging the man's offer as in earnest, however, he occasioned to add, "I mean, I would be much obliged to you. And will have you reimbursed in all due haste," he promised sombrely, wondering whether he had anything of value he might offer as a token of insurance. But no, his word as a gentleman was all he had to give. It would have to do.

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As Jacques had half-expected, the man protested his offer. Jacques had personally never had much qualms about accepting kindness but then again, he was a Frenchman. And as it was, he didn't mind at all. He had the extra coin and the man did seem quite distressed. A blind man could see that he had not meant to be a thief of any sort.

"More than happy to. My name is Jacques Michaud," Jacques said as he pulled out his coin purse. Even if the man were to stiff him, it would hardly send Jac to the poorhouse.

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   Evander Darrow

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1/4 vampire, french accent

The man repeated his gracious offer, so Evander saw no reason to make more of a fuss by disagreeing. He thought the name Michaud sounded vaguely familiar - perhaps someone he ought to have heard of, for one reason or another? - but he was far too focused on willing the mortified red flush from his cheeks to riddle it out.

He watched in gratitude as the man counted out the coins, and this time, saw the shop clerk satisfied with them. It was only then that he managed to breath a sigh of real relief. “Evander Darrow,” he said - confessed, rather, in this case - and added weakly, as he scooped up his parcelled books under his arm again, “...very kind of you.”

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"It's no trouble, I trust you to make good on the debt," Jacques said. The man seemed honest enough at least. "I'll consider this my good karma put into the world for the week." Not that he fully beleived in karma but it was a thing to say as this encounter was growing increasingly awkward. "I suppose I'll be hearing from you," he said as he paid for his own items and moved to leave.

  

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1/4 vampire, french accent