20 December, 1892 — Ty's House, Wellingtonshire
Ford's general level of paranoia had not decreased since his conversation with Noble on the second, but it had shifted focus. When he'd finally freed himself of the conversation and made it to his bedroom he'd written Tycho straight away to tell him he wouldn't be coming back that night, or for the foreseeable future, and if Ty needed to write him he should do so care of the Ministry. That, he was sure, would have painted a picture for his lover of the stakes as he perceived them. Maybe routing his mail through work was an unnecessary precaution, but Ford wasn't keen on Noble knowing he was currently seeing somebody. He certainly didn't want him knowing who. Anything he could do to remove the clues before Noble pieced any together, Ford was more than willing to do. He just had to hope that Ty trusted him, and that his inclusion of I love you, I love you, I love you in the letter would have gone some way towards soothing any immediate doubts.
As the month dragged on, though, Ford became increasingly aware of how long it had been since he'd spent time with Tycho. Nearly three weeks. They hadn't gone this long without at least a shared dinner since they'd become friends in the first place, unless one counted the month Tycho had spent as a lion earlier that year. Ford began to worry less about Noble being wary of him and more about Tycho losing patience with him. By the time they finally set a date, Ford had nearly convinced himself (based on very little, if any, real evidence) that Ty was mad at him and that he'd spend the entire evening desperately trying to make amends.
"Knock knock," he called into the house at large as he came in the front door. He had fallen out of the habit of actually knocking at Tycho's door when he visited, though he didn't know when he'd stopped. "Ty?"
As the month dragged on, though, Ford became increasingly aware of how long it had been since he'd spent time with Tycho. Nearly three weeks. They hadn't gone this long without at least a shared dinner since they'd become friends in the first place, unless one counted the month Tycho had spent as a lion earlier that year. Ford began to worry less about Noble being wary of him and more about Tycho losing patience with him. By the time they finally set a date, Ford had nearly convinced himself (based on very little, if any, real evidence) that Ty was mad at him and that he'd spend the entire evening desperately trying to make amends.
"Knock knock," he called into the house at large as he came in the front door. He had fallen out of the habit of actually knocking at Tycho's door when he visited, though he didn't know when he'd stopped. "Ty?"
Set by Lady!