"Maeva taught me how to sew," he said conversationally as he pulled a fist-sized copper bell from his pocket, "I admit it is not the most masculine of pursuits but I spent much time with her. She was my caretaker as a child." He rung the bell a few times before tossing it aside. "She is also your washerwoman," his voice carried a pleasant tone. "She was so happy to see me, and I her. Truly. She gave me a pastry when I entered your house."
Desmond put one hand on Garston's forehead and pushed him down onto his back roughly. "I didn't think it would be so easy to pay you a visit," he added, tracing a line with the dagger's point across Garston's chest as he held him in place.
Desmond furrowed his brow as a thought occurred to him, "Where are my manners, I haven't told you why I am here. Would you like to know?"
Desmond put one hand on Garston's forehead and pushed him down onto his back roughly. "I didn't think it would be so easy to pay you a visit," he added, tracing a line with the dagger's point across Garston's chest as he held him in place.
Desmond furrowed his brow as a thought occurred to him, "Where are my manners, I haven't told you why I am here. Would you like to know?"
