Aslan shut the washroom door behind himself, as he usually did. Rather liked having no room to sneak in behind him, and there was no place to put his shaving razor that would make it any less a razor.

“How was your day?”

And by her day, he meant yesterday, for he had been out since lunch at least. On its own, that was hardly unusual. He had come home smelling like perfume and stale smoke on occasion. He still collected the newspapers on the various prostitute slayings.

Never came home smelling so strongly like a woman had been all over him, though.

Nisa looked at Aslan and smiled. "It was well, and yours?" Her eyes studied him though she kept a small fixed firmly upon her face before turning to head towards the kitchen.

"You've come home so late, I do hope your work was successful. Please do not stay out too late, I am concerned for your well being." She said quietly and went to pour them both some water and sat quietly. Her eyes returned to see what he would do. She almost wondered if he'd make a run for the door. He did it so often.

Allah Allah. That door was calling to him.

“It … was a day,” he non-answered.

It wasn’t an uncommon answer. It usually weighed in somewhere between ‘I could not possibly have expected that to go wrong’ and ‘I was kind of happy but don’t dare point you to where to shoot it down’.

He made a noncommittal noise at her hopes of his success. Felt it ripple against bruised skin.

“I apologize, Nisa,” he answered. “Work gets away from me, but I will try.”

She had probably heard that one before.

True to expectation, he whisked away behind a door – though for now, just to get dressed.

Nisa nodded slightly though he didn't look in her direction to see it. "I see. I do hope you will. I may start losing sleep if I must stay up half the night worrying over you." She hadn't, she knew he was out. But he left his sister home alone so much, what if something were to happen?

A small smile appeared on her face at the concept. To have someone so terrible come into her home, it would be too precious to end too soon. She wondered how long she could keep them alive and silent. She definitely had ideas. Nisa looked at the porridge on the stove as she stirred it slowly. The maid was a far better cook, but she had learned to manage the simple things.

"All I can do is ask for you to try." She said after he had disappeared from behind the door. Her eye twitched slightly. He walked away during their conversation, he didn't know how kind she had been. Had their father still been with them, she would consider if it was worth letting him break the rules so often. She gripped the spoon in her hand and watched the door, waiting for him to return.

Absence made the heart grow fonder. So far, that philosophy had kept him from her wrath.

Blissfully unaware of Nisa’s growing homicidal fantasies (fanned to greater life by the gust of his retreat at that), Aslan dressed hastily. His dressing-up tendencies had not occurred spontaneously. At first, he’d thought Nisa was just taking on sloppy lovers and had braced to be an uncle. The collection of miscellaneous clothing articles grew, and grew.

When their father was alive, Aslan would lightly tease Nisa about when the articles might ‘disappear’. He’d figured that at least one of these mysterious lovers would stick. (Was that when Adam had disappeared?) They never did, and instead ended up drifting into Aslan’s closet.

The idea that he was wearing murdered men’s clothing had been … off-putting, back when he still had the capacity to be mortified. Now, it was just another reminder of the life he had chosen.

There were only a handful of outfits that he’d actually bought fitted for himself, which made going out as himself far simpler.

“Sorry,” Aslan said when he saw Nisa there, watching expectantly.

He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but he assumed there was always something.

“Is there anything I can do to help before I go?”

Nisa watched him come out and looked him over as if seeking something to criticize. She folded her arms and looked towards the porridge that was ready to be put onto the table. "I asked you to stay for breakfast, so please sit down."

She moved to put the food into bowls for the two of them. "And you know brother, it was very rude to leave the room in mid conversation. I do not mind speaking through a door, but I prefer face to face."

Without waiting to even see if he'd agreed, she placed their food at their places and took her seat. "Also, some brothers might worry about their sisters being home alone with the maid all day. Even small towns like this may not be safe." Was that some attempt at garnering worry for her or a warning that people would not take a second glance at one of them going missing?

Could he wiggle out of breakfast and take his chance with the street vendors? No? Damn. Aslan smiled with his mouth and went where he was directed.

“I apologize, I meant after breakfast,” he lied.

And yet another tally against this mortal coil-er, his flustered propriety.

Aslan picked up the spoon for his porridge. He was 99% certain this was the bowl that would be the death of him. So, he swallowed it quickly.

“I am sorry, Nisa,” he said, yet again.

That one held a grain of truth. He wanted to be around her. Or, well, he wanted to want to be around her.

“I do not mean to neglect you. You are absolutely right – you should not be spending so many lonesome hours here. I saw a sign for an embroidery group outside the women’s teahouse. Would that be of interest to you?”

After his correction about breakfast, Nisa smiled more warmly, though it was never clear how much was a mask or genuine. She ate slowly though stared when he practically wolfed it down like someone who hadn't eaten in days. "Do you want another bowl?" She said curiously. "If you were that hungry, you really should tell me. I could make you something to take with you while you are out all night." Nisa wasn't a fool, she doubted he'd take it. If he did, it would probably be tossed to the first hungry person he saw or tossed into the garbage. The thought made her grip her spoon tightly. Was he always so cold to his sister's efforts.

She took a second to relax though no emotional change had been evident. At least his apology sounded sincere, somewhat. Her face turned to him at the suggestion. "Embroidery?" As she contemplated it, she nodded. "Sounds delightful. I could try and attend a meeting and see if I enjoy the company. Though it does not cure your constant absence. Is it all for work or have you found a hobby?" Nisa was more concerned it was a woman, or worse a man! Someone who would take her brother and force her to fend for herself. She refused to find herself in a situation where she'd be forced to marry some fool to make ends meet. She'd sooner burn Whitby to the ground... metaphorically, of course.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. He had zero intentions of even seeing the priest again, and yet he swore she could smell it all over him.

Maybe even literally. Did the wig still smell like flowers? Probably.

The pragmatic thing to do would be to put the cannibal and the opportunist in the same room. Let them sort each other out. He felt disloyal for even joking about it in his head.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m married to my-” homicidal sister “-work, no time for much but it. Praise Allah I didn’t end up in something with even more grueling hours.”

He had considered, more than once, if factory work might be an easier way to get away from Nisa for long hours. It would, but it would also do the job of killing him for her.

Nisa wanted to put her face in her hands as she watched him and sighed. "It is a pity ... that silly technicalities were unable to allow you to be a policeman. You would have done well, you work so very hard. But between the little money you make, your long hours, and how often you come home exhausted or injured. I wonder if this is the best line of work for you. Have you ever considered something else? I worry for your health, brother." She said softly and watched him as she continued to eat her food at a far more reasonable pace.

"I know you love it, and you are good at it. But then you should make a name for yourself and get a little more recognition and hopefully better pay. I do not wish to see you work yourself into an early grave." If her brother was going to simply push himself into an early grave, she wished he'd tell her. She'd simply help him along after getting insurance on him.