January 28th, 1891 — Bartonburg
Afternoon melted into late evening before Fallon was ready to inform Jesse of the events of the day. She knew in writing her letter to Lachlan that she would break him just as surely as she knew then it would be the end of their friendship. He wouldn't look at her with a friendly smile or chuckle at a shared joke. She took the fragile piece he gave her and shattered it beneath her boot, of course Lachlan wouldn't forgive her. Truthfully, Fallon wasn't sure she could forgive herself.
Things were already so tense with Jesse that she nearly skipped returning to his flat and went home to her own. Ever since her conversation with Gertrude an unaddressed tension resurfaced between them. Mr. Brownhill apparently accepted Gertrude's work for what it was without complaint, why couldn't Jesse do the same? Why did she have to feel as though he would eventually force an ultimatum? Fallon hadn't worked as hard as she did in her training to simply give up because a man asked her to. Gabe had children and yet he wasn't frowned upon for working in their field. It churned her stomach to realize how little faith Jesse had in her abilities.
She couldn't sit on the conversation with Lachlan for long, though, not after the near end of it all back in October. Honesty was her best way forward, for nothing but an argument happened anyway. She threw a coin at his head and left. What was there for Jesse to be angry about?
The walk back to her flat went easily enough. Leaving a note for Malou on the table (as was their norm these days now that she spent so much time with Jesse) she floo'd to his flat with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Merlin, she hoped Jesse wouldn't be angry, she hoped he could see past it and allow her to curl into his side. "Hey," Fallon greeted tiredly upon spotting him in the kitchen. "Is Kirke home?"