Friends of Yours?

This is a large commercial property. The ceiling is open wood beams, the floor is covered with an intricate pattern in antique oak parquet and the other surfaces are papered with powder blue marbled wallpaper on which is a gold stencil of a beautiful fleur de lys. Hanging on the north wall is a blackboard below which stands a deluxe shop counter. Around the deluxe shop counter are two large black wardrobes. Squatting against the east wall is a carved camphor mahogany chest opposite which imposes a rich old sofa. Near the first carved camphor mahogany chest is another carved camphor mahogany chest. Hiding in the southeast corner is a glass-topped oak desk around which are a massive ebony bookcase and a black wicker chair. Behind you the south door leads to Filigree Street between two shops.
There is one obvious exit: backward.
Daimon is sitting at the glass-topped oak desk.

Delia waltzes in to the shop and removes her coat near the door, carefully shaking off the wet onto the mat. She spent too much time on shift yesterday mopping up the floor after customers to make that kind of mess herself! She looks up to see who’s working today and and sees a striking fellow she hasn’t met before. “Oh! Hello!” she greets him brightly.

Daimon looks up from his book. “Ello.”

Delia flounces over to the employees only room and hangs up her coat on an empty hook and then peeks in her cubby to see if there are any messages or notes for her. She slides a torn-out sheet of paper out, reads it and giggles before tucking it in to her pocket. “I haven’t met you before! Seeing as you’re sitting at the desk, you’re either a really forward customer or you work here.”

Daimon holds up his coffee mug. “I’m the guy as writes scrolls at night, yeah.”

Delia beams at you, “Oh! I guess I didn’t realize. Makes sense as Lady d’Ackerley has such a busy life that she wouldn’t do it herself.” She bounces over lightly on her toes and holds out a hand good-naturedly, “I’m Delia!”

Daimon offers a strong, chilly handshake. “Daimon. Don’t think Her Pozness does scrolls at all, she’s got folks for that.”

Delia says innocently, “Goodness but your hand is cold! Need a refresh on that coffee to warm you up?”

Daimon looks at his mug. “Sure?”

Mistress Charite Mistblade opens the south door. She browses through the inventory.
Mistress Charite Mistblade peers at Daimon.

Delia takes the mug and bounces over to refresh the contents from the steaming coffee pot then puts the kettle on to warm up water for her own tea. “There you go!” she says as she hands the mug back to Daimon.

Mistress Charite Mistblade asks Daimon with an Ephebian accent: You are the vampire from the Drum, right?
Daimon accepts it. “Thanks, chick. Can’t get too hot or too strong, that stuff.”

Daimon blinks. “Vampire from the Drum sounds like I work there.”

Delia blinks at the word “Vampire” that the customer has used and blushes a little realizing that must be why his hand was so cold. She hopes she didn’t make a faux pas by mentioning it.

Mistress Charite Mistblade chuckles.

Daimon says to Mistress Charite Mistblade with an Uberwaldean accent: Oh yeah. You were with the gang that danced on tables and showed boobs for beer, I remember now.

Mistress Charite Mistblade scoffs. “I certainly was not showing my boobs.”

Daimon goodnaturedly says with an Uberwaldean accent: I wouldn’t know, I never pay attention to that sort of thing.

Delia wonders at another man who doesn’t pay attention to boobs and wonders if his interests swing the other way. “I used to hang out in the Drum when I first got here. I found a back room people weren’t in all the time and would sit and read.”

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Don’t much care for the place. They got a scene and no one to perform on it. Gone there some four or five times, three times people were having sex in the room. Not my kind of place.

Delia blinks “Sex in public? Wow…um..thank goodness I never saw that! Zale and I found a coffee shop that I liked better anyway and I haven’t been back since. Much *cleaner* and one can actually use the facilities there without fear of catching something fatal.”

Daimon nods. “Probably safer, too.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade says with an Ephebian accent: Oh my! I have not seen that kind of thing there, but some of the regulars…well I can’t say it surprised me too much.

Daimon asks with an Uberwaldean accent: Used to be private rooms up top. I used to go there back then because the couples would go up there, you know?

Mistress Charite Mistblade turns to Delia, “Where is the coffee shop, if you do not mind sharing? I have been looking for a nice place to sit and relax.”

Delia suddenly realizes the kettle has been whistling for awhile and goes over to pour it into the teapot and adds in some lavender chamomile leaves. She takes a moment to appreciate Lady d’Ackerley’s tea assortment she provides for the employees before calling over her shoulder, “Starbanks, it’s up on the east side of God’s Collar. Jack’s a nice sort and while he doesn’t have any pastries, he doesn’t mind if you bring in your own.”

Daimon sips his mug. “Fat Sally’s is all right too.”

Delia asks Mistress Charite Mistblade: May I offer you some tea or coffee?
Delia asks Daimon: Where is Fat Sally’s?

Mistress Charite Mistblade says to you with an Ephebian accent: Oh, why yes, I would love some tea.

Daimon says to you with an Uberwaldean accent: Just across the river north, on Squeezebelly Alley.

Mistress Charite Mistblade remembers why she came in here in the first place and begins to browse the inventory.

Delia bustles about getting down a tray and setting two cups and their saucers on it. She grabs a plate and some biscuits from the tin and adds it along with the teapot before carrying the whole thing over to the sofa. “Oh? I’ll have to wander in there and check it out.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade looks at the knife sheaths and says to herself, “I need something to hold that new knife…”

Mistress Charite Mistblade asks you with an Ephebian accent: How much is this leather thigh sheath?

With her head low, Lady Aell von Glitz enters the store and heads straight for the counter. Her skin looks darker than usual; still pale, but less-so than normal. It’s probably a testament to how long she’s been out of the business that Lady Aell von Glitz doesn’t immediately noticed Daimon but, after she’s made a few menial purchases, she turns to exit and spots him at the desk.

Delia pours the tea through the strainer into the teacups. “I don’t recall. Daimon?” She notes the newcomer but since she seems of the sort who prefers to not be hassled, decides to let Daimon greet her.

Daimon looks over his shoulder at Delia. “No idea. I copy scrolls. I know all about scrolls.”

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Should be a price tag though.

Lady Aell von Glitz’s eyes flicker between him and the other women and her mouth can’t help but twitch, as if threatening to form into a smile.

Lady Aell von Glitz says to Daimon with an Uberwaldean accent: Some things never change. I thought you’d have got bored of scribing after all these years.

Daimon quietly says to Lady Aell von Glitz with an Uberwaldean accent: Gotta make the rent somehow.

Delia rolls her eyes and walks over to the counter to open the door and check the price tag. “Fifty dollars looks like. If you’re looking for something more discreet, I would highly recommend this!” She pulls out a lacy black garter from the case to offer for inspection.

Lady Aell von Glitz’s mouth actually does manage a smile this time, and she looks between the two women there again. “Friends of yours?”

Daimon keeps his lavender gaze on the paper on the desk in front of him. “A co-worker and a customer.”

Lady Aell von Glitz offers both of the women a smile, as she isn’t sure which one Daimon meant to be the co-worker. “A pleasure,” she says simply, giving both of the women a once-over with her eyes.

Mistress Charite Mistblade smirks as she inspects the garter. “Very Lady Dangerous. It is just a knife for cutting up apples, of course.”

Delia looks up to the other customer, “Hello! I’m not officially on shift but Daimon there seems to be a bit lazy at the moment,” here she pauses to stick her tongue out at him, “so let me know if I can show you anything! I’m Delia.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade smiles warmly at the other customer, and gives her a respectful curtsey. “Wotcher.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade hands the the garter back to Delia. “Maybe some other time.”

Daimon warily asks Lady Aell von Glitz with an Uberwaldean accent: Why are you here?

“Lady Aell von Glitz”, and she inclines her head slightly to the one who introduced herself as Delia. “I didn’t even know that you worked here,” she now says in response to Daimon. “I can go, if you’d like.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade exchanges an “oh, history here” glance with Delia.

Delia nods and replaces the garter back in the case. “Tea is ready by the way!” she says to the lady in front of her before turning to the one by the desk, “Lady Glitz, may I interest you in a cup of chamomile lavender tea or perhaps some of that coffee Daimon is injecting?”

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Her Pozness hates blood on the carpet, that’s all.

Lady Aell von Glitz looks almost amused at that. She assumes, from the way that the co-worker addressed her, that the woman knows who she is. Still, she looks at Daimon before she accepts any offer. “Unless someone is paying me, I don’t intend to spill any blood. Tea, on the other hand..” She looks again to Delia with a smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Daimon hitches a shoulder lightly. “Well, that’s an improvement. Last we… taked… you were going to kill us all.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade raises an eyebrow and begins to think it is time to go.

Lady Aell von Glitz says to Daimon with an Uberwaldean accent: Which is why I’ve been away for a while. Finding my zen. Inner peace, and all that.

Delia can’t help but raise her eyebrows at that revelation as she turns to retrieve an additional cup and saucer. She has no idea who this Lady Glitz is but sounds like one she might want to keep an eye on.

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: If that means you’re not going to draw a weapon and throw yourself at me, good for us both.

Lady Aell von Glitz slips away any weapons she had concealed about her hands before holding them both up. “Nothing.”

Lady Aell von Glitz sits at the deluxe shop counter.

Daimon asks Lady Aell von Glitz with an Uberwaldean accent: Good. So how’s home?

Delia walks back to the sofa and pours tea into the new cup before picking up one of the already filled ones. She bounces over (softly, so as to not spill the tea) to hand one to each woman before plopping enthusiastically onto the sofa and taking her own cup. “Biscuits too, if you’d like!”

Lady Aell von Glitz makes herself comfortable before adding, “Besides, Miss Darcy would probably not like that very much.” She lifts a shoulder slightly at Daimon’s question. “Not a clue. I told you, I went away to relax. A holiday.” She then accepts the cup from Delia with a thankful smile.

Mistress Charite Mistblade sighs at not finding anything in the shop that meets both requirements of something she wants and something she can afford. She is about to turn to leave when she is handed the cup of tea she had forgotten she’d agreed to. “Thank you.”

Daimon upends his coffee mug. “No more vampire hunting business, then?”

Mistress Charite Mistblade turns to tea-bringer, and smiles. “I love your hair.”

Lady Aell von Glitz shakes her head from side to side, sending her shoulder-length hair dancing for a brief moment. “No. I guess some things _can_ change.”

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Pity.

Delia pretends to not pay attention to the conversation between the two while grabbing a biscuit off the tray and nibbling lightly, all the while tucking away every piece of information. She beams at the stranger, “Thank you!”

Lady Aell von Glitz cocks an eyebrow. “Something I should know?” She takes a sip of her tea before turning again to Delia. “This is wonderful, thank you.”

Daimon shrugs. “Vampiress beat up my girlfriend.”

Delia winces slightly at that revelation. Assassin with schooled expressions she is not! She takes a long sip of her tea, “You’re welcome! It’s a particular favourite of mine for late nights.”

Daimon sips an ounce of Klatchian coffee from the mug of Klatchian coffee.

Lady Aell von Glitz had, until now, been radiating calmness and was not her usual, tightly-wound self. She tenses at Daimon’s statement, however — her smile turning instantly to a frown. “Anyone you know? It’s not…” She trails off, leaving the suggestion lingering in the air.

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Name’s Dabria. She’s got a cohort of pretty boys, the works.

Mistress Charite Mistblade shifts uncomfortably on her feet and sips her tea. “This is delicious!” she says to colourful-haired girl.

Lady Aell von Glitz nods slowly. She’d been thinking of that other vampire – Diadamia or whatever her name had been – who had been a whole heap of nasty. “Dabria. From back home?”

Daimon simply says with an Uberwaldean accent: Like always.

Lady Aell von Glitz coldly says with an Uberwaldean accent: You know how to pick them.

Lady Aell von Glitz takes another sip of her tea, her once relaxed brow now tight in thought.

Delia lifts the plate off the tray to distract the customer from the slightly uncomfortable conversation. “Biscuit? They’re a sweet honey graham, so lovely at this time of night.”

Daimon begins to roll a cheap cigarette. “I’m a shop clerk. I mind my own business. Unfortunately, other people’s business seems to mind me.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade politely ignores the other two, and takes a biscuit from the tray. “Thank you. My name is Charite. What is yours?”

Lady Aell von Glitz is not so self-absorbed to not notice that this is making the other two women somewhat uncomfortable, so she tries to relax a bit. She even manages a slight laugh at Daimon’s comment, regardless of how hollow it sounds. “He was always good at playing innocent.”

Daimon shrugs at that and lights his cigarette with a spark that springs magically from his thumb.

Delia sighs with a mock pout, “Alas, I don’t play at it. I’m still learning all the time about how things work in this city!”

Lady Aell von Glitz’s thoughts are still with the vampire but, she has been trying to relax for so long, so she decides to pursue the new conversation instead. “You’re new here? How long ago did you leave Genua?”

Lady Aell von Glitz guiltily says to you with an Uberwaldean accent: I noticed the accent.

Daimon picks up his pen and begins to write again, well aware that he’s a dampener on the mood.

Lady Aell von Glitz keeps her artificial smile plastered on her face while she talks to Daimon’s co-worker, though her eyes do flicker to him every so often.

Delia replies, “Oh..I arrived just as the leaves were about to turn, so…a few months? I spent the first many weeks pretty intensively in Temple at my studies though and have only just now started getting out and about.” She refills her teacup upon finding it empty and adds, the Genuan drawl in her voice coming through a bit strongly, “Back home, there..ah..isn’t as much subtletly unless you run in the royal circles.”

Delia holds up the teapot to Charite, “Lovely to meet you! I’m Delia, fancy a refill?”

Mistress Charite Mistblade says to you with an Ephebian accent: Thank you, I have enough for now.

Lady Aell von Glitz can’t help but smile at the girl’s peculiar way of speaking. “I quite like Genua. Lots of shops. Everything is very…” She waves a hand around, trying to think of the right word. “Quaint. You’re a priestess, then, as well as a shop assistant?”

Her eyes turn a brighter sparkly blue, the gold flecks shining through at talk of home. “Oh the shopping there is so lovely! The men, too!” she admits with a giggle. “Yes. Turns out the god-bothering business doesn’t pay the rent although we do get nice gifts from the fishermen at time to time so we eat pretty well.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade asks you with an Ephebian accent: Who are you a priestess of?

Lady Aell von Glitz says with an Uberwaldean accent: I was a follower of Gufnork, once, but it seems I’m Hattian now. I think it fits better, anyway. I tend to turn up at unexpected times.

Daimon fills his coffee mug from the pot.
Daimon mutters something about ain’t that the truth under his breath.

Lady Aell von Glitz doesn’t hear the words but the sentiment is obvious all the same. She smirks at the vampire.

Delia realizes Charite asked her a question, “FISH!! Kind of the family thing. My dad’s side is a long line of fishermen.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade says with an Ephebian accent: Hat is quite an amusing god. I know witches are supposed to renounce gods and all that, but honestly I find them quite interesting.

Daimon finishes copying a scroll and folds it neatly into a small packet.

Mistress Charite Mistblade asks you with an Ephebian accent: Oh! I have a friend who is a Fish priest! You can breathe underwater then?

Lady Aell von Glitz says to Mistress Charite Mistblade with an Uberwaldean accent: You don’t look like any of the witches I’ve ever met befo

Delia could breathe underwater before she became a priest but keeps that oddity a secret. “Oh yes! And sprout fins! Although then I can’t wear all my lovely shoes. Speaking of, that is a darling pair you have there.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade chuckles at the other customer. “I know. I just cannot get into their drab attire. Granny is always cross with me about not wearing a hat.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade says to you with an Ephebian accent: Thank you! I got them in my hometown of Ephebe.

Daimon murmurs to the paper on the desk, “Witches oughta wear hats. At least that way a guy can see them coming.”

Lady Aell von Glitz manages a small smile. “I was always under the impression that 90% of being a witch was making sure people knew you were a witch. Sort of like being Ankhian, really.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade smiles. “Well, you are quite right there. It is all rather new to me, I admit. I am quite new to the area myself.”

Delia replaces her empty tea cup on the tray and curls her legs up on the couch, spreading her silver skirt over them to retain modesty and a bit of warmth. The tea has done its job of calming her down a bit. She’s always rather keyed up after evening vespers.

Lady Aell von Glitz folds one leg over the other as she reclines slightly and turns to Daimon. “If she should wear a hat then maybe you should wear a ribbon. That way people will know you’re coming.” She’s teasing, of course, to get a reaction.

Daimon quietly says with an Uberwaldean accent: I’m not a member of the League and you know it.

Delia inquires of Charite, “Oh! When did you arrive?”

Lady Aell von Glitz lifts her shoulders in a shrug, turning her attention back to her tea. Despite all her calming exercise, nothing _really_ puts her in a good mood like winding up a vampire… even one she doesn’t hate.

Mistress Charite Mistblade sips her tea and responds to Delia, “Only about a month and a half ago. It was a horrible shock, coming to Ankh-Morpork from Ephebe. It is so cold and dirty here. And that thing they call a river…”

Lady Aell von Glitz says to Mistress Charite Mistblade with an Uberwaldean accent: Your Morporkian is rather good for an Ephebian who’s only been here two months.

Daimon writes neatly on a packet, no doubt listing the scrolls contained within. His handwriting is gothic and detailed.

Delia peers at Daimon curiously, not having picked up on the fact it’s a touchy subject, “What’s the League?”

Daimon quietly says with an Uberwaldean accent: League of Temperance. An Uberwaldean vampire’s organisation. They wear black ribbons.

Delia says to Daimon: Oh! That’s what those little ribbons mean that I’ve seen from time to time.

Lady Aell von Glitz says to you with an Uberwaldean accent: They’re the bloodsuckers that promise not to drink blood. Daimon isn’t fond.

Delia asks, “I’m sorry, I really know extremely little about vampires. I’m much more familiar with zombies. Don’t you need blood to survive?”

Mistress Charite Mistblade says to Lady Aell von Glitz with an Ephebian accent: Thank you. I have worked very hard at it, standing around listening to people talk in the Drum or Plaza.

Lady Aell von Glitz mumbles something about the vampire doth protest too much under her breath.

Daimon seems intent on not taking the bait. He simply keeps working on copying scrolls, slowly and fastidiously.

Lady Aell von Glitz says to you with an Uberwaldean accent: It’s not a necessity. More like an addiction. They can live without it.

Mistress Charite Mistblade says with an Ephebian accent: “Interesting. I have never seen a vampire in Ephebe.”

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: There’s a few.
Delia says: I’ve never been to Ephebe but would like to some day. I hear their water is so very pretty.

“Mostly the sun just snaps them up like that.” Lady Aell von Glitz clicks her fingers on the last word.

Mistress Charite Mistblade says to you with an Ephebian accent: I have not been back in a while. I was thinking it would be lovely to go and soak up the sun and sit by the sea for awhile. All this cold, dark weather is starting to get to me.

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Not a place for Aell, then.

Her eyes glitter brightly again, like they do whenever she’s excited by something. “Oh! That’s a LOVELY idea, that is!” Delia says to Charite. “I rather feel as though I’m shriveling up, like a fish on the bottom of the boat, without any proper swimming. I mean, I *walked* on the Ankh the other day before I realized I had reached the end of the path.”

Lady Aell von Glitz’s lips curl slightly. “I just got back from Klatch, actually. They have something there called “Yoga” that’s quite relaxing.” She holds up her slightly-tanned (for her) arms, as if to prove her point.

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: If you say so.

Mistress Charite Mistblade shudders at the idea of walking on the Ankh.

Delia giggles, “Yo-Guh? Is that some kind of cultured milk drink?”

Lady Aell von Glitz smirks at Daimon again before looking back to Delia. “No, it’s… breathing and stretching, to relax yourself.”

Lady Aell von Glitz leans forward, placing her empty cup down with the rest of them. She cranes her neck slightly, so she can spy on whatever it is that Daimon’s writing. “Miss Darcy is well, I assume, apart from the assault?”

Lady Aell von Glitz thinks for a moment. “Or is it Mrs Vlozy now?”

Daimon appears to be copying a magical scroll in neat, gothic letters. “She’s okay. So’s the kid. For now, anyway.”

Daimon says to Lady Aell von Glitz with an Uberwaldean accent: We’re not married.

Delia suddenly recalls something that happened yesterday. “Oh! Daimon, since you write the scrolls then, I feel I should apologise to you. The stock was low and I went to move a packet and *poof* little minnows were darting about in the air for a bit.” She giggles as she remembers trying to catch one or two in her confusion.

Daimon looks momentarily surprised. “I don’t write -all- the scrolls. Never seen one turn into minnows, either.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade sips the last of her tea and sets her cup down on the tray. “Thank you for the tea,” she says to Delia.

Delias says to Charite: Any time! In the mid-mornings, I usually drink this amazing lavender coconut rooibis if you ever pop in then.

Mistress Charite Mistblade says to you with an Ephebian accent: Ooo…that sounds lovely. I suppose I should be off, important witch business, you know. Maybe I will run into you at the coffee shop sometime. We can talk about absconding to someplace warm and sunny.

Delia says to Mistress Charite Mistblade: Sounds nice! Hope to meet you again.

Mistress Charite Mistblade turns to the other female customer. “I am sorry, I did not get your name. Mine is Charite.”

Lady Aell von Glitz looks away from her distraction. “Aell von Glitz,” she says, managing a brief smile.

Mistress Charite Mistblade smiles. “Nice to meet you.” She turns to Daimon and smiles as well. “Nice to run into you again.”

Daimon raises a raven eyebrow. “I’d say the same but I try not to lie.”

Mistress Charite Mistblade leaves the shop.

Lady Aell von Glitz rolls her eyes at the vampire. “Do you always have to be so solemn? We get it, you’re undead, but you don’t have to kill the mood too.”

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Coming from the chick who usually looks me up to try to stake me, that’s pretty rich.

Lady Aell von Glitz asks Daimon with an Uberwaldean accent: That’s an exaggeration. When was the last time I tried to dust you?

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Last time we met.

Lady Aell von Glitz frowns. “I think I only threatened to.”

Daimon says to Lady Aell von Glitz with an Uberwaldean accent: No. You just have shitty aim.

Lady Aell von Glitz lifts her shoulders in a shrug and looks completely unabashed. “I was going through some stuff.”

Delia blinks sleepily and uncurls from the couch before leaning down to pick up the tea tray. She wanders off to wash up the dishes in the back room.

Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Good for you. I tend to be in a good enough mood around people who aren’t looking for an excuse to kill me.

Lady Aell von Glitz spreads her hands again, to show that they’re empty. “I’m not trying to kill you now, am I?”
Daimon asks Lady Aell von Glitz with an Uberwaldean accent: Do you want a prize for not breaking the law, then?

Lady Aell von Glitz hesitates slightly on the word “kill”, as if she was going to say something else instead.

Lady Aell von Glitz slowly says with an Uberwaldean accent: No… but you could stop acting as if that’s what I’m here for.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Sure. Convince me that it isn’t.

Daimon pauses long enough in his display of antiquated penmanship to light a cigarette with a spark from his thumb.

Delia carefully dries and puts away the teacups and saucers before replacing the uneaten biscuits back in the tin. She nabs her coat from the hook and walks back slowly as she shrugs in to it. She covers a yawn before saying, “Mmm..I ought to be getting home. I just didn’t want to go into the flat and possibly wake up Zale while I was still so hyper.”

Lady Aell von Glitz sighs and sits up straight. She takes her right hand and places it on her heart, and holds the other up right, parallel to her body. “I, Aell von Glitz, Duchess of Glitz and Member of the Conlegium Sicariourm, swear on my honour both as the ward of Glitz and an Assassin that I have no intentions to alter your form in any way, be it dust or no.” She lowers her hand and smirks. “Is that good enough?”

“Thank you for the tea,” Lady Aell von Glitz adds to Delia, after her speech. (Aell)

Daimon says to you with an Uberwaldean accent: You don’t need to leave. I will be leaving shortly.

Daimon says in Morporkian: I’d rather not.

Delia taps at the face of her watch, “I have an early morning Djelian lesson.” She stifles another yawn before replying to Lady Glitz, “You’re welcome! Nice to meet you!” She pauses at the door, “See you around, Daimon. Maybe one of these days you can teach me how to handle your scrolls a little more properly so I don’t waste your work.” Delia exits out into the sleet.

Lady Aell von Glitz rolls her eyes and stands too. She looks marginally more annoyed than before. “If you wanted me to leave you could have just said.” She turns to the door, trying her best not to storm towards it. “Good evening.”

About Delia

Hailing from a small fishing village just on the edge of Genua, Delia is following the Leclair family tradition of going to Ankh-Morpork for study at the Temple of Fish. Like most nineteen year olds, she is an amusing mix of worldliness and naïveté.
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