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[center][b][color=DC143C]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s
[color=DC143C]“It’s our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”[/color] 
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	Fyror and Dr. Graham slowly moved Mrs. Wyndham through the crowds towards the corridor. For reasons not fully known to them, Almack’s was not nearly as crowded with people as it once was. Fyror glanced over at Emma as she spoke up in a shaky voice. What she said did not put him even the least bit at ease. He had a sinking feeling that Lord Rutherford’s version of [i]protection[/i] was nowhere close to his understanding of the word. To protect someone was to keep them safe from harm or injury. However, the Earl seemed to be the type of person to take advantage of one’s weakness for his own ends. The man would call his sudden interest in the Wyndham family’s affairs as [i]concern[/i] when truthfully it was simply [i] self-serving manipulation[/i]. Fyror detested dishonorable men like him, men who cared about no one but themselves and would destroy everyone in their path to get their own so-called happiness.

	Fyror and Dr. Graham soon reached the carriage that would be used to take the injured Mrs. Wyndham to Westminster Hospital. A small half-hearted smile pulled at the corners of his lips as Dr. Graham told Emma not to turn down a friend. At least the doctor understood Fyror’s good intentions. He helped to gently place Mrs. Wyndham into the carriage before turning to the doctor as the man addressed him. [color=DC143C]“I wish I could have been there sooner to prevent such tragedies and devastation…”[/color] he began regretfully, before trailing off as his gaze looked sadly at the injured state of Mrs. Wyndham. He should have been there for them, more specifically for Millicent. Not that it would have done any good. 

	His gaze went back to Dr. Graham, and he nodded his head in agreement to the fact that he needed to go back to his family. His brows furrowed slightly at what the doctor said next, as the man leaned in towards him. Sure, Millicent would be glad to see him in the morning, but Mrs. Wyndham and Lord Rutherford, not so much. When the doctor requested that Fyror meet with him at his office tomorrow afternoon, Fyror was left puzzled. He stared down at the card for a moment before absentmindedly watching the carriage slowly drive off. When the carriage eventually disappeared from view, he sullenly turned around and headed back inside to find his family.
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[center][b][color=556B2F]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s
[color=556B2F]“Maybe I’m not the person everyone thinks I am.”[/color] 
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	Thalken snorted contemptuously at hearing the Grand Duchess call her pet tiger a [i]“big softy.”[/i] It seemed like an ignorant statement to him. Sure, the creature was well-trained, but it was a predator nonetheless. Predatory instinct cannot simply be turned on and off, as they are deeply engrained in oneself. No amount of control can fully quell the darkness, violence, and bloodthirst inside. He would know, for he struggled often in vain to separate the good man he wanted to become from the monster he has been shaped to become. 

	As the tiger’s attention turned to him, he stiffened slightly and his hand instinctively tightened on the handle of his throwing knife. Of course, he was intimidated by the hungry look in the big cat’s eyes, after all he has seen firsthand what these creatures can do. One would be foolish to not have at least a healthy amount of fear of them. His gaze moved slightly to the side, still keeping the tiger in his peripheral vision as Elizaveta reprimanded her tiger and then addressed Thalken directly. His eyes narrowed at her, not fully buying that the tiger would only harm him if he attacked her. There was more than one way to provoke the wrath of a predator.

	It wasn’t until Elizaveta’s gaze left his did he take note of the newcomer Vladimir. In fact, there were several people in the Octagon Anti-Chamber. His gaze reluctantly left the tiger to take in all of these people. The majority of them he recalled briefly seeing when he arrived at Almack’s: the Grand Duchess, the apostolic woman, and the pale Ryne-like girl. His sister Thalcona caught his eye as she slowly moved around the edges of the room back over to him. He noted slight amusement in her gaze, causing him to glare at her in response. He did not find one second of all that has happened even the least bit amusing. 

	He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck as he sensed someone watching him. His harsh gaze swung to the side to find that Ryne girl was looking at him. His eyes narrowed on her. [i]What did she want?[/i] When he heard the Grand Duchess address the woman as [i]Lady Crypt[/i], the look in his eyes darkened further. Even as Virginia Crypt’s attention went elsewhere, Thalken’s harsh gaze remained on her. Who knew exactly what he was thinking, for all one could see is the cold darkness of his expression.