Quote Originally Posted by Anarion View Post
As the heat dies down and the angel recedes, the door also flies open. Peter is standing there, drawn up to his full height and filling the whole doorframe, with Arthur smirking just behind him.

"I'm not deaf, y'know!" He shouts. "You think because you offered to help me, that you can just barge into my castle and do whatever you want?! You've defaced my whole wall, and..."
His eyes suddenly gleam as he sees the blade. "And made quite a fine work, there. Don't you think," his tone is suddenly much more pleasant, "that it would be fair to render some payment for the use of the premises? And perhaps for my aid regaining the Glamour you must have spent in the process?"
This was... This could go bad. Charlotte has seen this before? The anger in the door like building storm, the eyes like lanterns dancing with laughter behind. The worm tongued goading the majestic and forceful. He planned this.

Charlotte curtsies, as well as one can in a fancilly buckled shirt. The Locked door, the nightlife harvest, Peter was probably nocturnal. "Pardon for waking you, sir. Marchande, this is Peter, the lord of the manor and pro... Prop... Ugh. Owner of the business.

"Excuse, sir, but entrance we took as payment for our efforts with your curse, and help as well. Entry for hospitality from a cold, thorn'd world would be of use, Oui? If I have overstepped, I apologize. I hope this work of art" at which Charlotte is very clear, very deliberate in her gesturing to the painting on the wall, "would be sufficient for damages, non?"

Her breathing is heavy, slow. Deliberate. Behind the mask of weariness is now a hint of fear. Marchande may rescue her again; how would one tell a man who's eye are lit by greed to dowse them? Would he care the sword was cursed?