Adam glanced at Lucie briefly and almost chuckled.  Almost. He was still a walking pile of pain and had so much more to do. He couldn't afford to relax yet.  

He did smile briefly as he answered. About as lighthearted as he could be under the circumstances.  

“Not exactly. No. Though maybe it should be. I can certainly see the appeal of a pretty woman dressed in just a short coat.  All legs and leaving one wanting to unwrap her.   Maybe I'll see if I can figure out how to start a fashion trend. You know...in all that free time I have.”  The sarcasm dropping off his last comment could drown a horse.  

“Really I just didn't want to have to fight again whilst naked.  It's like peeing in the woods...you do it when necessary but it's still a vaguely uncomfortable feeling.”  

Lucie blinked, then chuckled, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked. “That sounds almost as an admission. But that’s not important right now. What do you think will be at manor?”

“I don't know what we will find when we get to Isabeau’s house.  I hope you are prepared for...well...anything.”

Lucie nodded slowly, any mirth vanishing at Adam’s words. She placed one hand on the hilt of her sword. “I’ve seen my fair share of things, even young as I am, so I am well prepared. But,” she said, now looking pointed at Adam. “I’m not a dagger to be pointed at a target. I will defend us if anything happens, but if you have any intentions of silencing whatever staff is in her manor. That blood will be on your hands. I just want to remind you of that.” 

Adam fought back a snarl.  His pain made him short tempered and Lucie’s defensiveness and her assumptions about him didn't help.  He clenched his teeth and kept walking in silence for rather longer than he needed.  

“I asked you to accompany me.  I did not mean that you were required to.  If you are uncomfortable with what might or might not be there you need not accompany me.  I could use the help but my job is to defend the Society as needed; I neither expect nor ask anyone else to do my job.  I protect what I care about.” 

“My concern was of a more psychical nature.  Isabeau was a brilliant scientist that apparently learned to animate dead flesh. I don't know what other alchemical secrets she may have learned or how she chose to protect them.”

The tone with which Adam spoke was not lost to her, and she did not pretend to not have heard it. Nevertheless, it was far from the worst she had ever experienced. It was nothing compared to the flat side of a sword for backtalk. “I came because you looked like you needed the help. But the situation just so happens to be, that I don’t know exactly what you intend, even if I can make educated guesses.” She let both her hands drop to simply hang along her sides, staring straight ahead as she spoke. “My impression of you is that you are not cold hearted, nor cruel. But you are deeply analytical and pragmatic... I once met a man like you who ordered the death of his late brother’s son, because he legitimately, honestly, believed that he could do better than the kid, and help more people in the long run with their business.” She fell into a thoughtful silence then, lips pressed thin. “‘His last words were, ‘it was for the greater good’.” 

Adam shrugged and wished absently that he dared take milk of poppy.  But that was far too risky.  Instead he focused his mind on every possible option they might encounter as the brought this nights work to a close.  He was getting tired already and this conversation was not helping.  

“It's true I find logic is eminently more useful than passion and it's true people consider me to be a cold heartless cad, or worse, because of it.  I’m used to it, it does get somewhat wearing though. And I am so very tired.”

“There are, I believe, precisely two people left alive in this world who know me well enough to what to expect from me.  I don't even know most days; I solve problems.  The “how” often has a few twists that I don't see until I connect the pattern. So believe what you wish about me; but perhaps you would consider reserving final judgement until the facts have been acquired, that is all I would ask.” 

Contrary to the accusations thrown her way, Lucie actually smiled. “For one who advises having all the facts before making a judgement, you sure do have a tendency to make baseless assumptions. Even going so far as to contradict the evidence, to support your own narrative.” She chuckled, and randomly stuck her hand out to break off two branches, fiddling with them as she continued. 

“I believe that I said that I do [i]not[/i] consider your cold hearted or cruel. I have not seen you act that way.” She broke both branches, stuck one half of each in her belt, and then pressed the broken-off ends of the other two together. “Yet you claim that I made those accusations, and for that reason—” she took out the other two branch-halves, pressing their ends together, as if trying to make them fit “—you accuse me of doing what [i]you[/i] have just done.” She then threw the branches over towards Adam, though being careful not to hit him. “Why is that hypocrisy, I wonder?” She mused with a hint of a smile. 

Adam was silent for a long time running over thoughts in his mind.  He hated to admit it but Lucie had a point.  He hated assumptions.  Absolutely hated them.  But he had allowed himself to fall into that trap.  He wished he could blame his pain and exhaustion but he knew the truth.  He was just being waspish for no reason.  

“You are correct” he said finally into the quiet “I apologize.”

For awhile it seemed that was all he was going to say but he continued several minutes later.  

“I am extraordinarily tired.   It is not an excuse.  Merely a reason. I dislike assumptions and still allowed myself to be seduced by them.  Again I apologize.” 

Lucie offered him a charming smile, the young girl that she was breaking through the tough exterior. “Apology accepted.” She said nothing further for a while after that, content to walk in silence. She kept looking about however, seemingly staying aware of their surroundings and any potential threats. 

It was several minutes later before she spoke up again, pointing with a gloved hand over the treetops, to where the tiled roof of a mansion had just come into clarity. “I assume that is our destination?” She asked. “Miss. Isabeau’s residence and house of horrors.”

“It's actually rather nice, if a bit outdated” said Adam absently.  

Adam led them to the servants entrance and they walked in without knocking.  

No one was about, not surprising since the better part of the night was gone.  It made Adam breathe a little easier.  If they were quiet they may not run into anyone.  He hadn't brought any money with him for bribes so being unnoticed would be easier.  

He adjusted his steps so he could move quietly and gestured for Lucie to do the same, though he found that she was already mirroring him.  He called the layout of the house, from what he remembered, into his mind.  They could automatically rule out any public areas and the servant quarters...she wouldn't keep anything important there.  

“Let's try the bedrooms first.   She has locked up one of the rooms; the bedchamber she and her husband used to share.  I remember that from when I visited her right after the explosion.  The servants were all atwitter about it.  Locked up and boarded up the room.  Doesn't mean there isn't a way in...if she had secrets that would be a good place for them.” 

Lucie nodded and opened the door to the bedroom. It was an ordinary affair, as mansions went, and as such did very little to astonish her. She had, after all, lived nearly as ostentatiously when she were younger. She took off one hand and let her naked palm run along the rough wood, slowly following it around. She stepped aside the large cupboard, stopping only briefly to open the drawers to look inside. She found only underwear. Expensive, well made underwear, but nothing of interesting… Although maybe she should commission something with laces like those. 

She clicked her tongue and closed the drawer again, continuing on her way. She pressed her hand against the wall once more, this time deciding that ordinary methods were too slow. She wanted to get back to the House, get a bath, and see what gossip she could get out of the servants. So she sent a pulse through the wall, and from it into the adjacent walls, requesting information of only a single thing: Doors. 

Two things stood out to her. One she didn’t need to turn around to see, because she knew that was the door they had entered from. The other was different. It was in the opposite end of the room, near the single bookshelf. In fact, right beside it. “Over here,” she said and stepped over to it. Keen eyes roved across the wood that comprised the wall, squinting to discern whatever tiny difference there may be, to give it away. She found no keyhole or handle, which left her with only one option. 

Adam watched her work while at the same time scanning the room with his own Talent.  This room was far too perfect.  Even skilled servants couldn't keep a used room this perfect.  By the time Lucie had found the door Adam had knew Isabeau didn't live here and there would be a door to another room, but having Lucie along was faster and gave him other eyes.  He was busy stealing a pair of Isabeau’s boots to replace the rags on his bare feet when Lucie spoke up. 

“How cliché,” she muttered, and started randomly pulling out books from the shelves. She was careful not to simply throw them, but either handed them to Adam or let them drop cover- or back first. “I expected more of Isabeau. She appeared an intelligent individual, however depraved and insane, but I truly, honestly, believed her more inventive than to hide proverbial door knob, as a book on her shelf. Ah, here.” She pulled further on a small tome, the name Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu written in golden filigree, across the black leather spine. Something clicked, and the wall beside the shelf opened into a not-so-secret room. 

The inside was… disturbing, in a way. It held a single, worn bed, the covers haphazardly made by the hand of someone obviously unused to doing so herself. A single window would light up the room during the day, and aside from half a dozen candles—some in candleholders, some not—there seemed to be no other possible sources of light. She grabbed a small whetstone from one of her many pockets, went to a candleholder with two, nearly intact, candlesticks. With a deft motion, she drew a dagger from her belt, struck the whetstone across the edge, and lighting the wicks with a few attempts. Now with light in hand, she could see the thing that worried her the most. 

Something that looked more like a shrine to the occult than anything else. More half-melted wax candles along the edges of a chest-height dresser, accompanied by dozens upon dozens of pictures of Lady Isabeau and an unknown man—presumably her husband, the late Mr. Isabeau—plastered to the wall, many overlapping and a few burnt at the corners from the multitude of candles. Atop it the dresser lay bundles of paper and notes, an empty ink well and a dried pen. 

“Is this what you were looking for?” Lucie asked, holding aloft the candle holder, shedding light on the shrine itself. She didn’t hide the disgust at what she saw. 

Adam entered the room after Lucie, already guessing what they would find.  The scope of Isabeau’s obsession caught him unawares though.  Clearly she had been living in a hellish world, trapped in time.  He could almost feel sorry for her.  Almost.  

“Not exactly what I was looking for” said Adam absently.  “But important nonetheless.”  
 
A glance outside told Adam they dared not linger long.  The sun, and the servants, would be up soon.  He wanted to be away by then.  

“I wonder what kind of a force the two would have become had he lived” Adam muttered absently.  He was trying not to focus too much on the obvious signs of Isabeau’s madness.  He would think on it later, in private, because madness was of special interest to him.  

He quickly glanced through the notes and writings on the table, his Talent enabling him to quickly separate the important from the fluff.  The pile of fluff was quite small.  He bundled the important papers in a pillowslip he quickly stripped from the bed and turned to Lucie. 

“Her lab” he said, “quickly.  We haven't much time left to remain unnoticed.” He didn't mention his suspicion that at least one of the servants already knew they were there; servants were rarely as clueless as their employers wished. They were, however, remaining hidden which suited Adam well.  

Lucie nodded and knelt down, pressing her bare hand to the floor. [i]Beakers, Chemicals, Bunsen Burner,[/i] she demanded, her own Talent giving her the impression of several such items in proximity of each other. There was just one problem. “Far side of the mansion, top floor,” she said, rising. “It’s tucked in a corner of the building.” She then grabbed the cloth covering the blades of her daggers, handing it to Adam. “Tie this around your face, in case servants do find us. Cover one eye with your hair if possible. They won’t know who I am, but they’ll know you.” 

She didn’t wait to see if Adam did as ordered, instead stepping quietly over to the door leading to the hallway. She crouched low and peeked out, but she saw nothing. Neither could she hear anything. 

Adam nodded and did as Lucie suggested. On their way out of the room he grabbed one of Isabeau’s summer cloaks as well, it had a hood he used to cover his pale hair and muffle his form.  He followed Lucie down the hall, as quiet as she was.

The lab was everything a well stocked lab should be; and very neat and clean.  Adam and Lucie were able to make short work of their search.  Much of what he found disturbed Adam, more so because he had almost been part of her experiment. 

Adam destroyed what they couldn't carry; it was convenient that Isabeau stocked a variety of acids.  The rest they bundled up to take back to the House.  His keen ears caught the sounds of servants moving hastily about the house as he worked; but the sounds were far enough away that he guessed they were safe for now.  It seemed the servants didn't care much about more beyond their own welfare.  A pragmatic approach he approved of.  Getting out of the house unnoticed was now his only real concern.  

“I'm guessing most of the servants are gone now?” He asked Lucie softly.  

“Last one left a few minutes ago,” she confirmed, hefting her own small bag of notes and equipment. “We’re all alone now. I take it we go back to the House? The others should have arrived by now.” She walked out the door, then, heading for the back entrance they had used to get in. “I do hope Aleksandra remembered to retrieve my pistol.” 

“Good” said Adam “their flight will be obvious; with any luck if Isabeau’s disappearance is investigated at all everyone will be consumed with finding the servants.  I’m going to lock up.  Make it look less tempting.  I'll meet you in the stables; I think we should help ourselves to one of Isabeau’s horses, hope you won't mind sharing.”

It didn't take Adam long to lock up and join Lucie at the stables, she had saddled one of the horses and was holding it by the reins when he arrived.  “Let's go home,” Adam said, relief evident in his voice. He was more than done with this adventure.

“Let us,” she said, swinging herself up in the saddle, and reached a hand down to help Adam up so he could sit in front of her. “I think I want a bath when we get back. The sewers have left a less than pleasant smell.”