All things considered, today was a good day.  Gulls still shrieked overhead, the air was still tangy with the smell of saltwater and fish guts, and Inspector Munro was running the force ragged dealing with the rash of bicycle thefts. Bert seemed to spend his days crisscrossing Whitby calming anxious baker boys who had lost their modes of transport or weeping widows who wailed that they were the victims of crime.  The increase in women marching up and down the seafront waving posters demanding equality also disturbed him. He was a fair sort, if they broke the law, he would arrest them just like anyone else. See? Equality for all.

Indeed, he had worn his tunic and helmet so much of late, it felt odd to be in clothes other than uniform. He had begged - no pleaded with Neil to switch with him, an afternoon off for weary Bert. Surely the browbeaten Neil would appreciate a few hours of adult company more than shrieking minions. Bert had only one desire this afternoon, to spend it with Delilah.  They had not seen much of eachother of late, duty to their respective employers keeping them apart. They had not shared a walk, a sweet treat in a long while. Yet, the golden-haired Irish temptress was usually the last thing on his mind after crashing into his cot, passionate imaginings between them filling his dark nights.

She had been busy with helping prepare for the wedding of her employer and his bride, things seemed to be in full swing in that household. However, she had been given the chance to have some time off considering how hard she worked for the family. She had been able to afford some new frocks in the last several months, deciding to spend some of her free time sewing it herself with the fine fabric she had been gifted by the new missus of the household. The dress suited her well, too, being a darker red color with subtle, yellow embroidery. Her golden hair was piled on top of her head and a hat was perched jauntily upon her crown, strands of her hair having been curled with rags the night before as she had been taught. It wasn't the fanciest dress ever, but it was lovely on her.

Upon seeing the man who she was starting to adore with each passing day, a soft smile formed on her lips and she approached him. "Bert," she seemed to breathe when near him, wishing he would reach out and touch her. He had been courting her for a time now and it was her hope that they would settle down soon, as she was champing at the bit to simply exist with him in a home, curled up next to him intimately with or without having done anything else.

In her carmine dress with caramel accents she was certainly arresting to look at, giving pause to his heartbeat and putting criminal thoughts in his head. The picture of a refined lady, at a glance of higher class than actually true; one worthy to hang upon his arm at the policeman's fund ball. She did not strike him as kinsfolk to those loud, obnoxious, women parading on the bandstand for a cause political.

"Delilah." He was passed the formality of Mrs O'Connor, but they were still in public and reputation was important. "Sorry I've been away, I've been busy." then he remembered "This is fer ye." Bert produced a single red rose. The florist had said it had special meaning. "I see it matches yer new dress."

She smiled softly his way as he passed the rose to her. She took it and pulled the blossom to her face, gazing at him as she inhaled the floral scent. "Thank ye kindly," she wanted badly to call him her love, but she knew his reputation was important to him and therefore did not make that move. She had forced herself to be patient, but she wanted very much for him to propose someday. She loved her Bertie... In fact, he didn't know that she regarded him as such a name yet, for it wasn't one she would share with the rest of the world. She hadn't told him of her feelings as of yet, not wanting to be the one to say it first because of his particulars.

"Aye, me mistress had plenty o' fine fabric and gifted it ta me." She smiled, "She's a kindly woman. I tried not ta make it look too fancy, I ain't a lady in that regard and know me place in the world, but I did think ye'd like ta see me dress."

Bert shook his head "Nowt a lady, ye could have fooled me. Yer finery does ye great credit." If she had been an actual lass with a higher standing, their coupling would be a problem, cause for scandal, but she was not. She was a widow, so not much thought was given to the situation faced by her kind. It was all in Bert's hands now, he just had to ask Inspector Munro for permission to marry, stop into a shop for a keepsake to cement the union, and then apprehend her and say those grave words --

"Are ye hungry, Delilah?"

His compliment caused her cheeks to pinken. She smiled a little wider and then nodded. "Aye, famished." Her eyes sparkled with interest and warmth. She tucked the flower then into the basket she'd been carrying in her other hand. She wanted to hug him but refrained. He probably had no idea just how much he had been occupying her thoughts as of late.

They walked on as a couple, a picture of propriety. Bert lapsed into silence contemplating their relationship. There were no parents to gain approval of, he had not had eyes for another woman, yet they were not so young and foolish to elope like that couple he had read about in the paper. Rash kids. No, for Bert when the time came it would all be done proper like; bands of marriage read aloud, a church wedding, then maybe a few days rest in Scarborough. And all of this was dependant on whether the police would allow him the time off. Bert's stomach growled at him to focus his attention on another love: pastries.

The familiar scent of pastry filled the air, though her eyes were soft yet firmly affixed upon her Bertie. She did not mind sharing him with a chocolate or fruit tart. One day soon, she would present a pie of her own to him. Perhaps he would like some sweet buns even. Oh the possibilities. And yes, dear readers, she was thinking naughtily, puns intended. Because she was a merry widow, she knew what sweet temptations she would be able to sample when the time finally came to consummate their highly proper courtship with each other. If only he would forget about propriety for one night, she mused as she watched him size up the sweets. She wished he would look at her the way he looked at those cherry tarts. Why, it was almost indecent the way he gazed, and she sort of looked toward the pastries herself, imagining other acts involving food. She wondered if he would find the treats sweeter served upon parts of herself. No wonder his moustache twitched. If she had one, hers would too.

The sweet scent of treats tickled his whiskers or was that soaped aroma of the woman his smitten with? "That look's a hot 'un." he pointed. "Smells delicious." His moustache covered the flash of a smirk at the wanted posters his little constable was circulating. 

Christ man, just take her into custody already! She's a bad girl.  

Never!  There was proper judicial process.

She inhaled the scent of the delectable looking chocolate number, her mouth watered. She then pointed to it, "I'll be havin' chocolate today iffin ye don't mind..." she said decidedly, her eyes moving to settle on him again. She could eat him up too. The fact that they kept eyeballing each other like a couple of teenagers said a lot about how their relationship was progressing. She wanted to kindly remind him she was no innocent and that nobody needed to know how he used his... truncheon. But she knew he was particular.

She caught sight of the way his lips and mustache twitched and bit the inside of her cheek.