If Cliff was dissatisfied with her careless offer for spare gloves, Ida didn’t notice it one bit. Probably for the better, too; odds were high that the more he resisted, the more innovative her tactics to sneak it onto his person anyhow. He wouldn’t know what hit him until he was back home taking off his jacket and dozens of goodies spilled out to the ground, and Meena would see it, and then there were no take-backs. A lot like how Ida hoped the discovery transpired with the things she sent along with him at their last meeting. It was less a charity case, in her mind, but a matter of practicality. He needs something she doesn’t – he should take it.

“I guess we’re burning it,” Ida sighed, resigned awful like a reluctant parent who agrees to go on a pony ride their kid’s been whining endlessly about. Her agreement seemed to make Cliff laugh, at least, and his laughter cheered her up somewhat because it sounded like a mad hyena (not that she heard what hyenas laughed like – but she’d bet her dowry it sounded like Cliff). And his sentiment about her rule breaking, however, her face flushed brilliantly.

“I live just fine,” she grumbled defensively, glancing quickly away as he raised his eyebrow inquiringly. It seemed rude to point out that frankly even just talking to him probably broke dozens of rules. Harder still to point out that she happily went along with any of her friend’s antics – because it all gave her the same fuzzy excitement that their plan back home gave, and that this silly business with the candle and the mirrors potentially broached now.

Though before she could articulate as much, Cliff reminded her of something they talked about last time. Protecting what’s his.  The witch really, highly doubted that he meant it in the way it came out sounding, and for her own sake latched on to his qualifier of friend (much more palatable). He wasn’t wrong, anyway. Friends help each other out (even if the ‘help’ he gave her was entirely based on his agreeableness as a subject of dangerous experiments). Still, Ida looked a touch sheepish as she glanced away from him, deliberating over what he said for a touch too long.

“Yeah. Loosely friends,” she agreed. Feeling bad as she said it, like she was being dishonest. Because the thing is, at her age there was no such thing as a male ‘friend’. Even though she appreciated having many of them, it seems. A bad habit. Another rule she’s breaking. Following her curiosity will get her into some serious trouble one day, Ida knew.

But for now, Cliff seemed determined to lead them on to their next adventure. A disbelieving huff of laughter at the proclamation “that’s my girl!” premeditated the candle thrust into her grasp, and from that moment on, Ida was really just along for the ride.

“Oh no,” she intoned dryly at the thought of Cliff’s real magic, throwing him a rueful look as his hand gestured to the metaphorical wide expanse of possibility. “I can’t say that inspires a lot of confidence, Cliff, based on your exit strategy back in Irvingly,” she couldn’t resist inserting the snide remark, because she’s heard what his ‘plans’ can be like. Still, she allowed herself to be shepherded by him back out onto Main Street, deciding that if any constable found them she’d simply have to claim that he kidnapped her. “But okay. Dazzle me with your real magic,” she went on, playing off with laughter the uptick of nerves that tensed up her body.

It had less to do with Cliff – if anything, his company was a small comfort. Everything to do with where they were headed – their feet traversing the exact same path she took weeks ago with her cousin, straight into Padmore Park. Ida swallowed thickly, doing her best to conceal her nerves (and failing, really; she looked a bit pale compared to the blush she had earlier, and her lips twisted into a slight frown at his question).

“Ummm, walk,” she decided, wanting at least to spare a few more minutes before she had to confront her fear. She’d gone months without stepping into Padmore Park, and now that the opportunity presented itself she wasn’t about to lose her nerve. In front of Cliff the dog, no less. Still, she needed a minute. Just a minute. To work up the courage again.

The woman’s feet dwindled to a stop, shrugging off the hand she felt at the small of her back. Fussing, for maybe a smidge too long, with the candle in hand and the satchel she shook free with the other, giving the dark object a safe place to reside until they had use for it later. After a prolonged moment and nothing more left to do, Ida snapped the satchel shut and glanced up to Cliff with a barely-concealed grimace. “Alright,” she said, trying to sound aloof. “Lead the way.”

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