June 30th, 1892 — Dory's Home, Bartonburg
Mabel Brighton
Mabel Brighton
The disappointment of arriving home to a note from Winnie explaining not to expect her had stung in a way he hadn't prepared for. He had to grow accustomed to her absence again as her confidence grew after the attack in April, but Dory hadn't realized that confidence would extend to other men as well. The realization should've been obvious in hindsight, especially when he considered how none of their pre-existing issues had been resolved in the aftermath of her birthday. After all, it wasn't as though they were married or even known publicly to be attached. For all everyone else knew, they were nothing to one another — just as Winnie preferred it to be.
He'd changed into loose fitting trousers and an undershirt almost immediately after tossing her note into the fireplace, for while it was still early enough in the evening that he might've found someone else to bring home he knew he would be terrible company. (And, even if Dory refused to admit it, he was uncomfortable with the prospect of finding Winnie in someone else's company in whatever random pub he chose.) Everyone would be better off if he kept to himself tonight — perhaps he would even dive into the new mystery novel he'd been putting off for some months. At the very least, Dory most certainly shouldn't go for a ride on a broom after consuming the amount of firewhiskey he intended to.
In the end, the novel proved to be interesting enough that it kept his interest long enough for the burn of the whiskey to turn soothing. In fact, Dory might have even fallen asleep on the sofa were it not for the quiet knocks on his front door. Brows furrowing, he carelessly tossed his book to the side and reached for his discarded wand. Winnie never arrived by any other means than floo, and his family all knew better than to visit him at this hour. The only other suspects he could envision as he walked towards the door were disgruntled fathers, brothers or husbands, and for those he had to be prepared. Hatchitt would be livid if he missed a shift for such rakish reasons.
Only, when he opened the door his surprise guest was none other than Maple. It was almost as though the universe knew he needed something bright in his life at present. "Evening love," he greeted cheerfully before tucking his wand back into his waistband. "Come in. What brings you here so late?"
He'd changed into loose fitting trousers and an undershirt almost immediately after tossing her note into the fireplace, for while it was still early enough in the evening that he might've found someone else to bring home he knew he would be terrible company. (And, even if Dory refused to admit it, he was uncomfortable with the prospect of finding Winnie in someone else's company in whatever random pub he chose.) Everyone would be better off if he kept to himself tonight — perhaps he would even dive into the new mystery novel he'd been putting off for some months. At the very least, Dory most certainly shouldn't go for a ride on a broom after consuming the amount of firewhiskey he intended to.
In the end, the novel proved to be interesting enough that it kept his interest long enough for the burn of the whiskey to turn soothing. In fact, Dory might have even fallen asleep on the sofa were it not for the quiet knocks on his front door. Brows furrowing, he carelessly tossed his book to the side and reached for his discarded wand. Winnie never arrived by any other means than floo, and his family all knew better than to visit him at this hour. The only other suspects he could envision as he walked towards the door were disgruntled fathers, brothers or husbands, and for those he had to be prepared. Hatchitt would be livid if he missed a shift for such rakish reasons.
Only, when he opened the door his surprise guest was none other than Maple. It was almost as though the universe knew he needed something bright in his life at present. "Evening love," he greeted cheerfully before tucking his wand back into his waistband. "Come in. What brings you here so late?"