"Tea, yes. That would be grand!" spoke the flustered Scholar as she took a deep breath to pull herself together. It appeared that it was really only half of the room who had noticed her entrance - the rest were too busy pouring over whatever was on the table - the reason that they were here. She opened the door and pulled her skirt out, took her glasses off and rubbed away the steam with the very corner of her skirt which had been kinked in the doorway. She took her time, she knew if she just took her time she wouldn't suffer a second faux pas. 

The gentle sound of the Frenchman's voice soothed her, he seemed to not have snickered at her, and instead his attempt to catch her up on what she had missed also helped to ground her in the present, and to help her focus; "the Congo?" she began as she made her way to the table. She had just gotten it together when she noticed in her foggy peripherals someone sauntering towards her - and before she knew it she had been embraced by her. 

She recognised immediately that is was Ellen, she could tell by the perfume - and the fact she had not regarded in the slightest, someone elses personal space. That said, it was nice to have someone here that she [i]knew[/i], at least on a surface level anyway. "Ahhh, Elle... You compliment me so again, it's nice to see you. It's been quite a while..." She followed Elle's lead to the table, and clapped her eyes on the skull in the centre of it. "Is that...?" she began, and looked around at the excited nods that followed. "But that's impossible..." and again the party around the table offered more nods of excitement. "But the Garden of Eden is but a legend, is this really real? I mean... The Congo really? I suppose if it would be anywhere that would be it - given the geographical implications of it I suppose it would be there but really the Garden of Eden? Well I never...."

She continued on, until it all became a bit of a monologue to herself than her asking anyone else any questions. She spoke so quickly to herself, drawing a finger over the tablet, glancing at the skull again as she punctuated her diatribe. "Fascinating really, isn't it?" she finished as she came back up for air - having studied both the skull and the tablet. A cup and saucer of tea had been placed beside her at some point. She took a sip and felt it warm her up inside. 

It felt that she hadn't been there for too long, when soon the meeting was wrapped up. She felt a little confused over where she would be staying, but she remembered a rather quaint Inn being placed just a ways down the road. She liked places like that, they always had such character - and already she was salivating at the thought of a fresh breakfast in the morning. 

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Morning came after a night of dreaming of adventure, the Congo, of lions and elephants and treasures and tombs! Florence woke in a good mood to the sound of the telephone in her room ringing. This must be the kitchen letting her know that her breakfast was ready - as she took the phone off the hook and sat up in the bed, she heard a different voice on the line. An accent, Australian? He sounded gruff, confident, and commanding. She recognised the voice from last night.

They wouldn't be going to the Manor this morning, they'd be heading straight to the Docks. Something was up. 

Florence wasted no time in getting ready, packing her things, and leaving. 

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Her heart fluttered away in her chest as they made their way in the cab to South Hampton. Another long drive - and they would be leaving at Noon. And she hadn't even gotten to have that delicious breakfast. Every time the cab rolled over any bumps in the road, Florence found herself jumping back in fright. Obviously something was happening, and she just didn't know quite what it was. It wasn't an exciting kind of anticipation - like childhood Christmas Eve, no, this was some kind of dread. 

Eventually her cab dropped her off, suitcase and all, in a snowy South Hampton. She was very early, far earlier than she thought she might be. She supposed it was because she may have rushed her cab driver - her anxiety and incessant talk might have been a factor in him hitting the peddle with gusto. She had barely gotten out of the cab and he had booked it back off again, leaving the Scholar alone in the snow and quiet. She bit her lower lip as she looked out over the docks, clapping eyes on the S.S. Demeter. She was still early, and she was hungry. It would be unsafe of her to embark without at least tea and toast in her stomach. There had to be somewhere here that would help her...

After a few moments of exploring, she found her way into a small Cafe, relatively empty save for a couple in the corner with their two babies, and a man whose face she couldn't make out because he was hiding it behind a broadsheet, reading away, a cup of coffee in front of the newspaper. He was wearing some rather tremendous footwear that was well suited for the snow. They looked almost like military boots. She smiled at them, befoe looking at her own slightly worn brogues. Not the best shoes for this weather. Boots would have been much better.

She sat with her breakfast and gazed out at the docks again, she could still see the ship - but nobody else was here yet. The serene quiet of the morning was pleasant, and she took her time people watching out of the windows as the docks gradually got busier. It seemed like she had taken her last sip and the space of those seconds, suddenly the scene outside was bustling - filled with people at last. It was drawing close to 10:45 - she would be allowed on the ship now. It was time to head that way. As she left the cafe, she felt a presence behind her. It sent a shiver up her spine, and she felt the space around her grow dark as the domineering shadow took over. "Do not move little girl..." came the sound of a distinctly German accent behind her, and then she could feel the sharp tip of a knife poke her just enough against the spine to let her know that he was armed. He pulled the knife back, but the threat was present still. "Look, I don't have any money, I'm sorry... please just let me on my way just [i]don't[/i] hurt me..." she whispered back, pleading. He sniggered at her. "I don't not vant your money Miss. You vill come with me right now or you vill come in pieces." His voice was a growl in her ear, and she was trapped with him, she nodded and he began to lead her in a direction away from the docks. She could hear his boots trekking through the slush on the footpath, her own shoes were not fairing as well. 

As they came to a small decline, Florence began to slip down it. Like some kind of incredibly unrefined ice skater, she couldn't stop herself and she felt the gap between herself and the German grow. Someone else grabbed her, another man - this time a sailor - she could see his face and he was smiling at her. She clutched onto his arm for her life; "Woah Miss! Be careful there awright, or you'll av a nasty fall on these stones." She thanked him and went to look once more for the German. She couldn't see him anywhere - he'd gone. He had been up to something but couldn't risk drawing attention to himself.

She looked down at her shoes and smiled, the adrenaline finally kicking in until she began shaking completely. Her stupid choice of footwear had saved her, at least for now. It was time to make a rush for the boat. She couldn't risk that happening again - she might not be so lucky again.