Too little, too late
Everybody gotta medicate
Through the winter when the winter comes down
And all the city comes to hanging 'round

May 2nd, 1890 — A Muggle Inn/Pub, London

Juliana should not have been here. She had tried to talk herself out of it multiple times since the idea had first occurred to her, about a day after she'd purchased the rabbit. She'd even relayed the story (devoid of any details at all which might have made it an interesting one) to a friend in order to have her talk Juliana out of it, but when the second rolled along... well, here she was.

From the Muggle pub owner's perspective, she had every right to be here. She'd rented a room just an hour earlier, and now she'd ordered a meal. She was going to eat it, once it was delivered, and she'd even ordered a drink, which was out of the ordinary for her. She was going to be here a while, though, she imagined, because she was currently involved in a stake-out. Sooner or later, a werewolf was going to walk through that door and up to the room she'd rented. He'd discover a rabbit in a small cage and a note from her asking to please drop the key to the room in the box by the front desk. Then he would leave — maybe he would apparate, so that he wouldn't be seen leaving with a rabbit. So she would only see him once, unless he came back to dispose of the key. The trick was, she had no idea what sort of person she was looking for. It could have been anyone at all, and it was unlikely that he would give off any overt sign — particularly as he'd managed to avoid discovery this long.

But slim as the chance was that she'd be able to figure out which of the patrons was her most recent lycanthropic penpal, it wasn't as though she could just go home. The curiosity was eating her alive. Not that she would do anything with the information, of course. She would never dream of betraying the trust of one of her interviewees like that.

Except that she was betraying his trust right now, by even being here. She shouldn't have stayed; she should be at home, anxiously awaiting his next letter for some indication of what had happened to the rabbit.

This wasn't even her first time loitering in a pub in order to catch a glimpse of a werewolf, she realized. This was, apparently, becoming a thing for her.

Jules took a long drink and steeled herself for a long afternoon of quiet observation.

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

She was finding herself spending the weekend in London more and more often with her parents, James, and Robert. While she knew why her mother wanted her to make more appearances in muggle society - as if she didn't feel discouraged enough by her own efforts - that didn't mean she wanted to be there. A year and a half more and she would be forced to face the same spinster label that her sister currently wore. While Nat might be fine with that, she'd always wanted to marry and have a family, so the idea seemed daunting - she did enjoy seeing her family. It was just, she didn't want to marry someone she'd see in her mother's circles. All of them oblivious to a world she could never tell them about. A secret she'd be forced to take to the grave. It was a gloomy though to start the evening on. Still, she had a bit of hope, even if it was a delusional hope. One face that had been creeping to mind more and more whenever her mother nagged her to find someone.

This evening, she'd dragged James out determined that she could avoid Brielle dragging her to yet another one of her events. Though he'd promptly left her upon spotting a few of his friends once they entered the inn/pub leaving her to find a table for herself and not quite what she'd been imagining for the night. The inn/pub was packed, the tables were full, and an ever-present scent of alcohol clung to the walls. "Pardon," she spoke, moving towards a girl who looked close to her age and was sitting alone, "do you mind if I take this seat? All the other ones are full." Or occupied by men she didn't desire interacting with. She could have joined James and his friends, but she hated feeling like the little sister he was forced to watch and was only there out of familiar obligation.

  

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thank you bee for the absolutely lovely set

Juliana had been at her booth for about an hour, picking over the food she'd been served and watching as the pub filled around her. She hadn't expected it to be this busy, but she'd never been here during a mealtime before; she was hardly the type to frequent pubs, Muggle or otherwise. Being busy was a boon for the person she'd been writing, but it did make it significantly harder for her to surreptitiously spy on him. Or her; she'd been reflecting as she sat that she didn't really know that A was a man, but had only assumed because there had been a line in one of the letters about working, and more men worked than women, generally speaking. In any case, she'd been carefully watching anyone, man or woman, who came in alone, but most of them ended up in one of the unoccupied booths. One man had gone up to the rooms, but then he'd reappeared fifteen minutes later without any sign of having obtained a rabbit and started drinking at the bar. So — it could have been him, if her werewolf friend had a habit of drinking at Muggle bars and was really feeling confident about this rabbit exchange, but... well, it didn't feel right. The behavior didn't match the tone of his letters, she didn't think.

She was going to have to order another drink, she thought, although she didn't particularly want one. There wasn't enough food left on her plate to be a valid excuse to stay, particularly when she was eating alone and the pub was as crowded as it was. Maybe she could just cast a spell very quietly to make her glass look fuller than it was, so that she wouldn't have to get another one but also wouldn't arouse suspicion? Taking a glance around the room to make sure no one was watching, Juliana reached into the interior pocket of her cloak and edged her wand out, moving slowly so as not to be obvious to anyone who happened to glance over. It was at that moment, of course, that someone approached her table.

Company was the last thing she wanted, because it would only be a distraction. This woman had arrived with a man a moment ago, so she could hardly be a person of interest. That being said, Jules didn't have any good reason to turn her away. She'd have to give up on the spell and just order another drink, though, which was unfortunate.

"Of course," she said, moving over in the booth to allow the other woman to sit. As she did, her wand rolled off her lap and onto the seat she'd just vacated, but Juliana didn't notice right away. "What brings you in? Are you staying here, or just looking for dinner?"

  

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

For a moment, she thought the woman was going to say no and that she'd have to return to James, sulking like a dog with its tail between its legs. But then she spoke and a flicker of glee shot through her. "Thank you, ma'am," she grinned with a thankful sigh, shifting to take the seat the woman had offered. A flicker of unexpected movement across the seat caught her attention and Annabeth hesitated for a moment. She'd recognize a wand anywhere with her life long obsession (that she claimed was just a passion, but honestly was easily an obsession) but why the woman was being so careless with her's in a muggle establishment illuded her. Maybe it had fallen out of a pocket and she hadn't yet realized. Most wizards acted as if a muggle learning about magic was the end of the world - which was silly. Rather than make a big deal of it, she continued to sit, making sure to snag the wand before it risked being sat on and smoothly shifted the chestnut wand back to the witch.

Might want to keep a better eye on that, there are a lot of muggles here," she whispered before quickly switching back to her normal volume as if nothing had happened. "Here for dinner, though of course, my brother had to go and leave me for his friends as soon as we got here. It is almost like he planned it, though how he would've when it was my idea to come, I'm not too sure."

  

---

thank you bee for the absolutely lovely set

Juliana froze when she realized what the woman was referring to. How could she have been so stupid? She'd taken such care to be inconspicuous, up until that moment, and then to do something like that! This woman seemed inclined to let it slip, but if she hadn't already known what it was Jules could've very well caused an incident, and what would have happened then? If things got out of hand and the Ministry became involved, she could find her reputation and her research at risk — to say nothing, of course, of the risk she would have put A in through her negligence. He might still be on his way here when the place was under Ministry quarantine and memory charms were being handed out like party favors to every Muggle in the pub.

Face white, she silently took her wand back and replaced it in her pocket. A part of her, mortified by her foolishness, wanted to simply leave. She shouldn't have been here in the first place, and while she was fortunate to have met another witch (by all appearances), she couldn't justify staying when her presence was, as she realized now, adding an unnecessary and frankly unacceptable risk for her research subject.

But then it occurred to her: could it really be coincidence that, in a pub full of Muggles, the person who'd approached her was unfazed by the sight of a wand?

"I'm not usually so careless," Jules insisted in a quiet and still rather shaken voice. Who was this woman, and what twist of fate had brought her here? Of course her first thought was A, but there was no reason A would have recognized her, any more than Jules would recognize him or her. A was the only other member of magical society with a reason for being in this particular pub, though, because it didn't serve wizards, generally.

Was it possible that even while she'd been morally torn over the idea of waiting out to catch a glimpse of A, he — or she — had done the same to her? The stakes were much higher for A, of course, and she'd written to give him the location and the date beforehand. If A had been here earlier, when she'd rented the room, he could have pieced it together. He could even have followed her from here to the Diagon post office and had a suspicion confirmed.

Even the fact that she was here with someone else didn't discount her entirely, Jules realized. A had at least one friend who knew, and werewolves were, in her experience, much more likely to confide in family members than friends. This woman had said she was here with her brother — either of them could have been A, feasibly.

Merlin, she had botched this. All she had to do was leave, and stick to the plan she'd laid out in her letter — now, for the first time in nearly six years of research, she was likely about to lose a subject due to breach of trust.

There was a sudden sick feeling in her stomach, and she wanted a drink of water to quell it, but the only thing available was the drink she'd ordered with dinner. She picked it up and polished it off, but it didn't help. "Do you live in London?" she asked, trying to seem nonchalant. She didn't know, and so she couldn't give anything away, but — Merlin, what a mess.

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

"Don't worry about it," she offered with a shrug. "Things happen. One mistake isn't the end of the world. Besides, I bet you most of these folks are drunk enough that tonight will be little more than a blur. If they remember anything at all. Regardless, if a muggle just saw you carrying a wooden stick around they would probably just think you are a little odd in the head, not jump to the conclusion magic is real." Her voice was soft and she smiled while she spoke only partially aware of the extent of Miss Binns's concern.

Of course, she wouldn't assume the woman was here to find a werewolf. That would have never occurred to her, rather Annabeth assumed that she was shaken up about nearly losing her wand. Her own siblings carried their wands everywhere, she could imagine it would be worrisome to lose it - even more so if losing it meant potential reexposing the magical world to the mundane. Though had she known the woman was here to catch a werewolf she likely would have been quite interested in that story - presuming it wasn't a full moon. Maybe that should be something she kept track of, but it wasn't. She'd only started to consider the dangers of the magical world a few months prior when she'd accidentally wandered into a black market pet trading stall in the market - one that had a few open cage doors.

"I used to live here, I'm just visiting my parents and brothers this weekend. I lived in Irvingly with my brother and sister for three years now." She didn't find anything particularly odd about the question. She'd initially assumed they'd both eat their meals in silence as she didn't want to intrude more than she already had, but if the woman wanted to get to know her, she was perfectly fine with talking as well. "Do you live here? Oh, I am Annabeth by the way, Annabeth Jennings!"

Maybe she should start going by a different name when she interacted with wizards. She'd had the threat of obliviation dangled over her a few times before. Not using her own name would make it harder to find her, but she supposed it was fine. She was pretty sure this woman thought her another witch and she wasn't going to correct her assumption.

  

---

thank you bee for the absolutely lovely set

The soothing and casual way that the woman tried to assuage her nervousness almost had Jules convinced that it was coincidence that had brought them to the same booth. Perhaps she was just a friendly, well-intentioned witch, and the fact that two witches had ended up sharing a booth in an otherwise entirely Muggle pub was pure happenstance. It was difficult to believe, but it made more sense than to assume that this woman was a werewolf, and had deduced Juliana's own identity and was, for purposes unknown, intent on confronting her. Particularly since her mannerisms didn't seem particularly confrontational.

Then she introduced herself: Annabeth.

The fact that her name began with an A was too much for Juliana, who believed that chance meetings had more to do with fate than anything else, to dismiss, coupled with all of the other peculiarities of their meeting here. This was A, and she knew (or at least must have suspected, particularly after Jules had been careless enough to drop her wand) who Juliana was. She was perfectly sweet at the moment, but Jules couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Her demeanor could change in an instant, and she could turn her (entirely justified) fury on Juliana without any hint of warning. The sick feeling in her stomach intensified.

"Marlowe," she said meekly, the word more a confession than an introduction. It was the only name that made any sense to use, since she'd signed her letters M; if she'd said Juliana Binns, Annabeth would likely have thought she was lying. "And yes, I do."

  

---

Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

Even if she was oblivious to the reason why she could tell that the women before her seemed to be getting more and more stressed. Even to begin with she hadn't seemed that talkative but her replies were getting shorter and shorter. She'd started the questions, but hadn't asked more. Her voice had gotten weaker each time she spoke - it was almost like she was scared of Annabeth. Yes, that was it, her behavior reminded her of the schoolhouse children when they were scared of punishment. But what reason did she have to be scared? She was pretty sure she hadn't given the impression she would report the wand slip. And it wasn't like Annabeth was even a scary individual. She was easily shorter than the other woman and could easily be overpowered (well she supposed Marlowe didn't have the knowledge of her being a muggle to contend with but still). Maybe then it wasn't her that this woman was scared of. Maybe it was someone or something else.

When the woman gave her name, there was no sign of recognization on Annabeth's face, just the smile she'd been wearing the whole time. Though honestly, she wasn't sure if the woman had given Anna her first or last name. "Marlowe? That is a pretty name. Like Christopher Marlowe - the playwrite?" She wasn't sure what else to do but keep talking to her. She certainly wasn't going to leave! Not when the woman looked like she might have seen a ghost. Well, that was a poor figure of speech. She was a witch, she was probably used to seeing ghosts. Maybe saying she looked like she'd just woken from a nightmare would be better suited. What would it be like to be used to seeing ghosts? Actually she didn't want to know. That sounded like inviting trouble into her house.

"Are you okay? You seem a little uneasy."

  

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thank you bee for the absolutely lovely set

"Yes, like the playwright," Jules agreed, her tone still rather weak. This woman had such an unassuming manner about her that, if they had met under other circumstances, Juliana would have felt immediately at ease in her company. Under the present circumstances, it only made her worry more. Was Annabeth trying to put her at ease for some reason? She couldn't imagine why. Maybe she was hoping that if she lured Jules into a casual conversation she could get her to admit to her identity as M, the researcher — or to confess her reasons for lingering in the pub she had no business to be in. But why try to tease it out of her when it was already so obvious? She had to know everything by now, or at least to have assumed all the relevant details. What more could she want?

And then that question! Uneasy was an understatement: her stomach was twisting itself into knots. She found herself wishing that her glass wasn't empty, just so she would have something else to put in her stomach, despite how much she disliked the taste of it.

"I'm feeling a bit... it must have been something I ate," she lied, in a bit of a rushed tone. "It just... didn't agree with me, I suppose."

A server walked by and, almost compulsively, Jules signaled for another drink. At least then she would have something to do with her hands, and something to look at besides Annabeth, for however long this interaction lasted. Merlin, she had messed up. This was the end of this particular line of interviews, obviously. Maybe even worse than that, if this woman found a way to out her to the rest of the lycanthropic community. It wasn't as though they all gathered at semiannual meetings, of course, but an advertisement in the paper might do just as well — that was, after all, how Jules reached her subjects in the first place. Her life's work, years of research with care and dedication — and she might very well have just ruined it for an afternoon to play detective, for no good reason other than to sate her curiosity. Merlin!

  

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

If she wasn't feeling well maybe something solid? "Maybe I could get you some bread as well? I've found it to be an easy thing to keep down when I don't feel well." She set her own spoon down,  reluctant to resume eating her soup if the cooking was what made the woman sick.

This woman was most critically scared of her and Annabeth had utterly no clue why. She couldn't think of a single thing she had done in this sitting that could be taken ill and she most certainly didn't recall having met her before tonight. It was just... confusing. She had no clue if she was making it worse by remaining here a bit longer, at the same time she didn't want to leave Marlowe alone if there actually was something wrong. Even if she had no clue how she of all people would be helpful in any problem.

She'd just keep talking, it felt like it was the only thing she was ever good at. Her job was talking for goodness sake. Well, sort of. She had a point to her talk and she supposed there was a point to this talking as well. "Do you work?" she questioned with a faint smile, hoping to distract the woman from her fear. "I never planned to work but now I have worked as a teacher flyer two years now and I can't imagine not handing done it."

  

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thank you bee for the absolutely lovely set

The offer of bread was one that Jules couldn't quite wrap her head around. Another attempt to set her at ease, perhaps? It was possible that Annabeth actually did want her to calm down, and maybe not for the sole purpose of tricking her into something later — but if there was another possible motive, Juliana wasn't sure what it might be. She settled for nodding dumbly in response, and made the request of the waitress rather meekly when she delivered the beer.

The conversation then turned to work, though, which could not have been a neutral topic. Jules' stomach turned as she considered how to answer. She could have told this woman about her employment under Mr. Lytton, of course, but if this was A she wouldn't be asking about that work. Was she trying to get her to admit to something or simply seeing how Juliana typically answered that question? She didn't want to sell herself short the way that she normally did, calling her research my little project in order to avoid attracting attention to it, if her conversation partner already knew about it. On the other hand, on the off chance that Jules had been mistaken and this wasn't where the conversation was going, she didn't want to be too detailed, either.

"I, uh, write," she said hesitantly. "I've had a few things published." It was a vague enough statement that it would allow Annabeth to steer the conversation deeper, if that was what she was after, or to merely skip along to the next topic, if that would suffice. She had no idea what the woman's end game was in all of this, but she felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. It was too much to hope that she might actually escape this encounter unscathed. The notion made her feel sick again, and Jules reached for the newly delivered drink as a way to try and calm her stomach.

This was the worst possible thing she could have done, because the moment she swallowed she felt overwhelmed by the urge to vomit. "Excuse me a moment," she blurted, squirming out from behind the table and dashing in the direction of the bathroom.

  

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

She thought little of the offer of bread, simply placing the muggle coin on the table that would pay for the bread. It was the only coin she ever had on her. She had no need to carry wizarding money. Regardless, she was too busy over-analyzing the woman too much to worry about the loss of a single coin. She seemed...  flighty. Not just scared but flighty. Like she was bouncing back and forth on the tip of her toes, ready to move, to flee at any second. For a moment Annabeth thought over her own safety for the first time all evening wondering if the woman was pushed, would she choose flight or fight. If she chose to fight, if the presence of all the muggles around them didn't stop Marlowe from lashing out with her magic, then Annabeth would be completely defenseless. Still, she refused to leave this woman alone, not when there could potentially be something she could do so she pushed onwards, determined now to put the woman at ease.

And then the woman offered her an olive branch. Writing. She could talk about writing all day. She read so many books both fiction and nonfiction. Surely they could find a genre or an author in common. Or she could tell Beth about her own work. Her eyes lit up and her smile grew, leaning forwards with her elbows propped on the table and her head tucked in her hands.

"Oh you write? I think that would be lovely. When I was younger I wanted to write. I really wanted to do research. Human anatomy and inheritance in particular. How traits are passed down. The ability to do magic appearing in muggle families for example. But momma shot that down. For the better I suppose, I turned out to be a horrible writer. I even tried my hand in fiction writing but I couldn't stick to a project. Too many ideas and it took far too long to write them out. I stick to vocal storytelling now. What do you wri-"

And then the brunette rushedly excused herself, having taken on a new sheen of paleness. For a second she thought that Marlowe was going to head straight out of the inn but instead she turned towards the restrooms. Confusion and concern laced through her and Annabeth sat frozen in the bench for a moment, unsure what to do. Did she follow or leave the woman alone? No, there was no question. She'd resolved just seconds ago that she would help Marlowe, she would not leave now. Slower, she followed the woman to the bathrooms, briefly gesturing to the waitress that she would be back and to leave the table alone. James would not come looking for her. Not for a bit longer. He was busy with his friends.

"Mrs... err Miss? Marlowe, are you okay? Is there something I can do to help?" she voiced softly from outside the door. "Two of my siblings are healers and they've taught me a few things. Maybe there is something I can do? Or someone I can get?"

  

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thank you bee for the absolutely lovely set

Kieran was here to pick up whatever animal M had left for him, and then he was here to leave. He'd already went upstairs to get the rabbit, which was now in the living room of his apartment - hopefully not being terrorized by Eileen's kitten, although Kieran did not have high hopes. (Pets - he had never been one to think highly of pets, and yet here he was, dealing with them.) But now he had to drop off the key, and so he had apparated back into the tiny room, and come downstairs.

All of this apparition, the day after May Day, was a lot. It was a lot, and Kieran had to drop off the key, but he also really had to pee, because of all the coffee he'd drunk this morning to make the day doable. So he came down the stairs with the key in his jacket pocket and instead of veering towards the box by the door, he veered left, towards the bathroom.

Except there was a line at the bathroom.

"Is someone in there?" Kieran asked, tone a little rude; there was no reason for him to be kind to what he presumed to be a muggle debutante.

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The following 1 user Likes Kieran Abernathy's post:1 user Likes Kieran Abernathy's post
   Juliana Ainsworth

After reaching the bathroom and locking it quickly behind her, Juliana emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Had she literally just worried herself sick? That was the only explanation, because the food hadn't been sitting poorly with her before Annabeth had arrived at the table and started asking her about all sorts of things for which she had no answer. She took a few deep breaths and tried to steel herself, contemplating what she would do from this moment. Maybe she could open the door and sneak out a different way, and avoid talking to her subject entirely. She'd burn the bridge with this particular woman, but she would be rather surprised if she hadn't done that already.

Except there was her voice, at the door, so that was hardly an option. Jules had never learned to apparate and certainly didn't have a license to do so, so that avenue of escape was closed to her. She actually turned her attention to the high window of the bathroom and contemplated whether she might be able to fit through it and tumble out into some dark alley, and flee home from there. The window couldn't have been more than a foot and a half tall, though. Even if she managed to climb up there somehow and get enough leverage to shove herself through, she'd never fit while fully dressed. Discarding her bustle and even her corset might have been an option, except that she'd still have to get home through Muggle London, and she wouldn't be able to do so without attracting a good deal of attention if she did it half-dressed. That left only two options: using a spell to blast her way out of the bathroom and making a run for it, or facing her pursuer. The Ministry might get involved if she chose the former option and caused a commotion, or worse yet brought the whole building collapsing down around them. Which really only left the one.

And, Merlin, now there was someone else outside the bathroom, waiting on her. This situation was spiraling out of control faster than she could come to grips with it. There was no time to try and collect her bearings, she realized; she had to get out of here.

"I'm sorry," she said hurriedly, throwing the door open to discover Annabeth and what she assumed to be a Muggle man standing in the narrow space outside it. She was still quite pale; she hadn't even taken the time to rinse her face and she felt as though she might be unwell again at any moment. "I'm going to leave. I oughtn't to have come at all, and I'm sorry. If you'll let me through —"

  

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

With her attention fully on the women, she couldn't help but startle at the sudden appearance of someone behind her, asking if someone was there. Without even thinking, she huffed and turned towards the taller man. Despite the inappropriateness of the moment, she couldn't help but snap back. She hadn't done anything to this man, nothing to warrant his tone of voice and the stress of being snapped at combined with the stress she was already feeling in regards to this woman tripped a wire. "No, no one is in there. I am just standing here, talking to a door to look like a fool as one does."

Grey eyes flickered between the man and the door, her emotions warring back and forth in a spiraling urge to want to help Miss Marlowe, chew out the dark-haired man, and just turn around, get James, and demand to leave. However, the door to the bathroom opened before she could make up her mind, thus making it up for her.

The woman hadn't given her the correct title, which, she supposed, was irrelevant at the time, but it left her fumbling on what to call the women. "Marlowe, please." Calling someone just their last name felt silly, but she preferred it to looking like a bumbling fool as this man likely already thought she was. "You really don't look well. If there isn't anything I can do to help and you wish to go home, at least let me call you a cab. I simply cannot let you walk, not if you are ill."

Had she brought the coin to pay for a cab far? That might have been something she should have checked before offering but she hadn't thought that far in advance.

  

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thank you bee for the absolutely lovely set

Kieran took a step back a a flustered-looking woman left the bathroom. His eyes flickered between them; he was trying to discern what was going on between them. It seemed that they didn't really know each other; it also seemed like the dark-haired woman (Marlowe) was trying to get out of here.

He didn't understand why the debutante wouldn't just - move out of the way. "Maybe you should leave her alone?" Kieran said, not-forcefully; he wasn't particularly invested here, but he could empathize with the girl who wanted an escape route.

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