Genuinely pleased that things seemed to be settled and trending in the right direction, Anthony allowed for another gentle smile. Monday it is. He was glad to be doing things as properly as he was able. It was always how mama had raised him to be and frankly, it was just how Anthony had always… been. Even as a teenager when the other boys would sit around and chat vulgarities or try and compare conquests he hadn’t participated. It seemed in poor taste to him then, and he was vaguely ashamed of his own liberties now. At least things had turned out… better than might be expected. But he was sure to make a note that such ruinous behavior would not be repeated! Not until things were well and fully sorted, for good.

His concern grew then for her ankle, appraising as his gaze tried to be, and the shift in tone caught Anthony’s attention. Likely the poor woman was exhausted after their ordeal. He could understand that feeling given the slight throbbing he was starting to feel in the back of his head. Adrenaline and anger had kept it at bay but now, at first hint of calm, he could tell it was going to be a doozy. “I’m alright,” he replied. “More concerned for you, though.” Looking around for the wand that they had to share, he spotted it on the ground near the original crates Ms. Torie had been perched upon. Anthony retrieved it quickly and dried himself off, making haste to re-button and tuck in his shirt. He then refitted his waistcoat and ran his hands through his hair before turning back to the pretty redhead.

“It doesn’t seem like this storm is going to let up anytime soon,” he sighed. “Perhaps we ought to call for reinforcements?” Anthony wasn’t keen on the thought of sharing the lady’s attention, but they couldn’t well sit around here for ever. People would start to wonder, anyway. He’d set out looking for her ages ago! No, no, it was time to be getting back. “I can see about letting Aunt Viola know. Maybe the house can send a carriage by way of the south trail.” And with that, Anthony transfigured a small pebble into a flat note which he scribbled upon with a piece of charcoal that was sitting behind one of the crates. (He’d noticed it when they were sprawled on the ground, Ms. Torie trying to squirm away from him.) Then, folding the thing up, he sent it zipping on its way out the window. Hopefully it would reach the house before it disintegrated.

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