Elliot was drinking brandy and reading about prophecies, which was a hobby he'd developed since going back to being a gentleman of leisure. He did not — could not — understand why he was afflicted by the Sight in the way that he was.

He had not achieved anything new when he heard a familiar voice in the parlor. Elliot's bedroom was on the ground floor, and he wandered down the hall until he stepped into the parlor and was faced with — "Miss Temerita Reid?"

There was a streak of ash on her face. It was — endearing, in a way. Elliot closed some of the distance between them. "Are you alright?"