She stepped forward and Atticus watched her with interest, his grin widening as she pressed her shoe down onto his toes; it wasn’t painful, at least not as painful as it could be, but still uncomfortable. He moved his foot away from her as he resisted the urge to frown at her. Her next comment made him though, before he chuckled quietly, watching as she took a deep drink from the cup in her hand. Atticus did the same. If he was going to be forced to fall in love from a potion, well, there could be worse choices than Dempsey. (But luckily for him she seemed to be immune to falling in love, and well, luckily for him a fake love potion was able to take into consideration how picky he was about his future wife.)
Then he nearly snorted into his drink at her comments, only refraining as took a long sip of the liquid, feeling it burn as swallowed it. It was an odd thought to be anything outside of a Foxwood, and well, Basil would have a conniption if found himself to be the only one left with the last name. The family line would end with Basil, that Atticus was sure of. “Atticus Dempsey. It certainly could be worse. Like Porphyria Foxwood, for instance.” The words were accompanied with a slight shrug, although his smile didn't falter. It was fun, trying to get a rise out of her.
He managed a wink at her before he found himself laughing quietly again, ignoring the grin that had etched onto her face. Atticus had every reason to be frightened of Dempsey, she certainly was a wildcard, but at the same time it was enjoyable that a woman was capable of jabbing him back. (And one that Mama Foxwood wouldn’t pester him to court.) “Have you not heard the rumors that an Atticus Dempsey is quickly rising amongst the ranks as a world famous bagpipe player in Ireland? I’m afraid my career won’t allow me to stay in London much longer.”
He wondered, briefly, if she was actually uprooting to Ireland. It was an odd choice, but then again Dempsey was an odd woman.
Then he nearly snorted into his drink at her comments, only refraining as took a long sip of the liquid, feeling it burn as swallowed it. It was an odd thought to be anything outside of a Foxwood, and well, Basil would have a conniption if found himself to be the only one left with the last name. The family line would end with Basil, that Atticus was sure of. “Atticus Dempsey. It certainly could be worse. Like Porphyria Foxwood, for instance.” The words were accompanied with a slight shrug, although his smile didn't falter. It was fun, trying to get a rise out of her.
He managed a wink at her before he found himself laughing quietly again, ignoring the grin that had etched onto her face. Atticus had every reason to be frightened of Dempsey, she certainly was a wildcard, but at the same time it was enjoyable that a woman was capable of jabbing him back. (And one that Mama Foxwood wouldn’t pester him to court.) “Have you not heard the rumors that an Atticus Dempsey is quickly rising amongst the ranks as a world famous bagpipe player in Ireland? I’m afraid my career won’t allow me to stay in London much longer.”
He wondered, briefly, if she was actually uprooting to Ireland. It was an odd choice, but then again Dempsey was an odd woman.
****
Porphyria Dempsey
Porphyria Dempsey
![[Image: cBAJGlb.png]](https://i.imgur.com/cBAJGlb.png)