Aslan blanched. Ha ha ha oh fuck was he dead.

“You were happier with friends,” he pleaded in hushed tones. “Before they-- they moved.”

His Adam’s apple was damn near lodged in his brain. Was this the night it all ended? He was so, so close on that other case.

His eyes searched. A distraction. He needed a distraction for her. Something, anything- … no. Someone he didn’t mind risking distracting her with.

His gaze landed on Evelyn Murphy. Evelyn was a town busybody with a laudunum habit. It had gotten increasingly worse of late, to the point she had stolen enough of her ladyfriends’ tchotchkes that they had banded together to prove it. They had decided not to press charges, preferring instead a shame-based intervention.

She caught Aslan’s gaze on her as she was about to slip a silver buffet spoon down her bosom, and acted as though she were just itching her breast with it instead.

“Not everyone is as cultured as you, Nisa.”

Was he really entertaining this?

“What if you … took on pupils? Taught your ways?”

The words had his voice behind it, but they felt so far away.