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gin a body catch a body
comin thro' the rye,
gin a body catch a body,
need a body cry?


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The First Dilemma of Lady Alssyana Grey
Part I


𝓦alter lifted his wrist from his pocket and quickly glanced at his watch

or two
or three
or was it four?


𝓕innegan always has enjoyed Lady Alyssana’s willful nature...
𝓑ut I dare think at this exact moment, it is too much for me?


...Standing several measures away from Alyssana, Walter stared at her and studied her demeanor. She was unwavering and stiff in personality over the matter, and he felt a small flush of something forceful stroke over his forehead. Walter Lowered his wrist, and with his lips pursed together in some sort of contemplation, he shook his head lightly and gently nudged the brown curls of his hair with his fingers as if to recomb his hair. This gesture was done in all actuality on the accord that he needed some sort of touch against the racing thoughts of his mind, “I doubt that he will do anything of the sort, again, Alyssana.” He tried to assure her.

There was so much contradictory in her statement, and this statement was the least he could say to mediate the situation. Her dowse had been by accident, “It was by mistake,” Walter gently pushed the excuse from himself. It came as some sort of recited verse, like he had stared at himself in the mirror and rehearsed those four words over and over until he might as well have sounded like some mechanical doll the middle class could afford.

He recognized this in himself as the words were spoken to Lady Alyssana, but he still believed them to be true, and with a bit of gumption (not often seen in Walter unless defending his brother, such as in this exact scenario) he continued with his justification, “Finny is quite wonderful.” His let a small smile perk on his face, hoping for some sort of empathetic reaction from Alyssana, but her visage remained stern, “He is not perfect, and sometimes, I believe… He did very much enjoy Miss Ashton.“

His eyes averted Alyssana’s at this moment, “I am quite happy they are no longer together, though,” he paused, feeling that he must have crossed a line of bad etiquette. His eyes perked back to Alyssana’s impatience, again, “Finny is, as well,” his smile brightened feintly. There was no use mourning over spilt milk, and he thought that Alyssana was being too hard on his brother. Afterall, Finnegan was although a cunning man, quite confused when it came to his ordeals with women — uncertain of what his wants and needs were. His spoiled upbringing could be to blame, but Walter never held it against his brother (most likely out of sharing a similar struggle albeit displayed in an almost entirely different shop front).

I hope Finnegan comes back with the tea, soon.


𝓣ea would be lovely.

𝓦hy don't you go make some,

𝓦hile Walter tells me about his week?”


“As you wish,” Finnegan said after a small split pause, mentally asphyxiated on his loss. Slightly bothered, he went through the usual litany of asking what type of tea she would like, and Lady Alyssana remained faithful to her usual stance in taste, much like the fashion she so boldly assumed, even during ballroom dances (that will come eventually in later chapters). After such a quaint conversation, the man left the room but not before making a quick glance at Walter, who in all of his manhood was still standing a bit too boyish in his burgundy suspenders, button down shirt, and a hand tucked into his darkish slacks.

He followed Lady Alssyana into the laboratory, much like a puppy without his owner, “Oh…” His thoughts were still lingering on Christopher, and he decided not to prod. She would have addressed the question if it was meant to be said as opposed to being shuffled aside for her to...

...Seek revenge on Finnegan, “I beg your pardon?” Walter was in the middle of working his line of thankfulness while introducing the ins-and-outs of his week to her and found himself caught off guard, “I…” He looked around the laboratory, all the fragrances stirred momentarily, and his eyes marveled at all the things he was just beginning to learn. These things were merely just the beginnings of beginnings, which meant wholly nothing about what he was going to learn about his brother and most interestingly, he was finding out, his own self discovery.

Drawing in a deep breath, he mustered up a puff of an answer, “A lot has happened in the past week.” His eyes continued gazing the laboratory. The last woman he had just encountered was Madame Sophronia, and Lady Alyssana, while still just as sharp if not sharper had the scowl of a lifetime that could send the most mixed messages of frightening confusion, he knew he ought to be less airheaded with her. Her question about Madamoiselle Evelyn was certainly something he wanted to avoid, but as the woman had proved to Finnegan, there was no skirt-tailing details, “Honestly, I think I have spent most of my time in here. I like it. There’s a lot of wonderful things to see and do, and there are far less people who come and ask silly or stupid questions,” he chuckled a little at his own interpretation of Finnegan’s interactions with customers, “As for Miss Ashton,” he tilted his head and tried to feign some happiness, even if sarcastic in nature to hide the following plea:

“Must I say?”


. ❖ .
And so begins
___________________________________________________________________________________________
The First Dilemma of Lady Alssyana Grey

Mister owl was wrong. It did not take me three licks to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop.


Same, tbh. My count was ~100+ (w/no crunching involved).

However, considering this is a writer's guild, I am going to put on my witch's duck bill and slap some psuedo-metaphorical prescription on the actual meaning of the commercial. Each lick represents something. One for the money. Two for the show. Three to get ready, now go cat go... Catch 'em Church mice, little pussy cat in London? Okay, but really, the three licks transcends to the graves of the Rule of Three, and to make things even catchier, the commercial breaks the "omne trium perfectum" or "everything that comes in threes is perfect, or, every set of three is complete." (Gratias tibi, Wiki) Obviously, licking the lollipop three (3) times is not the correct amount to get to the center. In fact, it is absurd, but through the misleading device (number of licks), the audience erroneously believes that three (3) is the correct number allotted for enjoying the product being advertised (the Tootsie Pop) and thus is tempted to prove or disprove this comical statement. And... Boom! They have a sale, and through word-of-mouth (free advertising), Tootsie Pops is the topic of conversations -- such as this one!

Addendum: Technically, Mister Owl is not wrong. His words taken at face value make customers get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. It's a cheap trick, like crunching the pop after three (3) licks! How else is the world ever going to know, anyways?

Slightly Related Side Note: Briza thinks Mister Owl's glasses are cute.

Keep adventuring and stay not a grown up.
James Matthew Berry
Rejoindre le cirque!

𝒴ou’re always welcome.”


𝓛ady Alyssana heard from Finnegan as she stepped inside and prompted him to help her remove the light, brown coat that was altered for her wings. Meanwhile, Walter was feeling a little silly and awkward standing there, having tried to make himself the proper host when Finnegan, as per his usual boastful self, had set such a stage for Walter to enter, only to watch as the younger brother failed once again to make himself anything but a beaming face, another decoration for Finnegan to by chance enjoy and show guests...

The younger Lord Oaks thought to himself as he stepped aside, fumbling with all of his thoughts but this particular one, and still, he kept his chin upwards to keep in fashion that he was minding them:
Lady Alyssana’s generosity is something that ought to be noted.

“I wonder what has Christopher’s attention so much,” Finnegan asked after hanging the tailored brown coat upon a wooden coat rack behind the door. The coat rack looked more like a thin tree with chandeliers for branches, but enough about the chandelier because if it were not for the costly glance of eyes that locked between Finnegan and Walter, the chandelier may have taken the conversation a different direction.

“Yes!” Walter chimed, “Christopher is clever and creative. I could not resist wanting to know what he would be working on, as we speak. His inventions always amaze me, even when…” He paused and looked at Finnegan, feeling that same awkward lump fill his throat and press his lips together when he knew he was about to say something less than chery, “He is not proud of them?”

“Yes,” Finnegan agreed, “We all make mistakes. Brilliant Christopher included, and young Walter, as well, but we learn from our failures. For instance, I will never ask Madmoiselle Evelyn Ashton on a date, again,” his face sweetened when he looked to Lady Alyssana, not minding one bit that Walter was supposed to be the lead in this particular visit, and Walter more-or-less awaited patiently for another entrance into the conversation, “Would you like anything? A glass of water… or tea, even?”

Unfortunately, Walter was the type of man who when not directly being entertained could often drift into a deep trance of imagination as he pondered here and there and everything far inbetween. Many of the things he discovered have been left unspoken and undiscovered by the outside world. Finnegan knows of several of these plights and has shown some vague interest, but often time, he keeps his distance from such gazing, for he thinks it is the result of a desperate attempt for attention when he is not the spotlight. (The sickness might as well have been something to cover-up his selfishness, and therefore, Finnegan believed, Walter working in the Perfumery would do him good.)
Are you wearing the socks?
Rex Racer
Salve.
@shylarah, Briza already said it was okee dokee artichokee! (*^▽^)/
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