Red sat cautiously at the table with the others, taking care to keep Devin between herself and Jack. Listening to the man’s drunken rant made her cringe. When Snow slid the cloak to her she was confused. Were they so enamored of their pseudonym that they would give her a cloak to make it even more appropriate? She cringed again as Jack’s coarse tongue got him threatened with castration.

Picking up the cloak she examined it, partially out of curiosity, and partially to ignore the rest of the table. It was a half-cape and hood, made of some thick material, perhaps leather. The whole thing was dyed a dull red, or perhaps had merely faded to its current coloration. A gesture from Ellie encouraged her to try it on, so she swung it around her shoulders cautiously. It fit well enough, but seemed rather underwhelming considering the way she was being watched. Tying it in position she looked to Ellie for further instruction. Red stiffened as Ellie gestured at her neck.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached under the ruffles of her dress and undid the clasps on the collar. She had worn it for two years without fail. The only exception had been six months after she had arrived and had nearly ended in three deaths, one of them being hers. But here in the center of the Guild was probably the safest place imaginable. As it came away she felt a rush of energy.

 “Mon Dieu!” she gasped. Her mind registered Mme. Snow watching her with narrowed eyes and one hand on her hilt, but it didn’t matter. She felt great, alive. Red had forgotten how tired the collar had made her when she first donned it, and had no memory of the other time taking it off beyond undoing the clasps. Tossing the engraved silver collar onto the table she stood up and spun around, laughing like the teenage girl she was for the first time since her parents died. Stopping as she realized all the eyes on her, Red retook her seat. Eyes once more cast down and a rosy blush upon her cheeks, but still a smile upon her lips. “Merci,” she whispered. “Pardonnez-moi.”