#also please ignore any height inaccuracies it was 2 am

[awildtrashcan]

A mugshot? I don't even drink coffee

[thefandominator]

Thank You For Sharing

The first thing that should have tipped Andrew off that something was up with Neil was that he pulled his hand away from Andrew where their pinkies were linked.

Neil needing some space from him wasn’t alarming per se, but it was unusual. There could be any number of reasons he’d pulled away.

It could be for no reason at all.

Andrew didn’t dwell on it.

Or, the foxes get more than they bargained for when they decide to watch a children's movie with Neil. Andrew, ever the protector, guides them all through it.

AO3 version linked here if you’d prefer.

Pairings: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard | Andrew Minyard & Original Character(s) | The Foxes & The Foxes

Word count: 3139

Rating: General

Warnings: Neil Josten has Dissociative Identity Disorder

Notes: okay so for anyone who is miraculously in all the fandoms i write for and has been following along as i post these: (1) this is the last fandom i am doing this for lmao i swear i won't be jumping from fandom to fandom posting DID AUs once a week for the rest of time, meaning (2) next week will be an update on one of the DID universes i have already established, but (3) unlike the three ficlets i've posted so far which i wrote in three days straight a few weeks ago, i have not pre-written the next fic so wish me luck for that (also, u can send me prompts if you want to see something specific). anyway, enough of that, please enjoy my take on DID!neil.  constructive criticism is welcome (especially if you have DID/OSDD and notice some inaccuracies), and likes, comments and reblogs are encouraged!  no content warnings that i can think of, but let me know if there is anything you think i should warn for

The first thing that should have tipped Andrew off that something was up with Neil was that he pulled his hand away from Andrew where their pinkies were linked.

Neil needing some space from him wasn’t alarming per se, but it was unusual. There could be any number of reasons he’d pulled away. One of which could be the foxes that were around them in the girls’ dorm. Although, the only lighting in the room was coming from the animated movie playing in front of them so he doubted that anyone would be able to see them. So it probably wasn’t that.

It could be for no reason at all.

Andrew didn’t dwell on it.

The second thing that should have tipped Andrew off was when, a few minutes later, Neil climbed off of the couch altogether and sat on the floor, craning his neck forward as if trying to get as close to the action as possible.

That movement did give Andrew pause. Andrew narrowed his eyes at the top of Neil’s head, trying to see if Neil would give him any hints as to what was going on. The fact that Neil couldn’t feel Andrew staring at him and didn’t turn around was another significant clue.

He wondered if he was getting too dependent on Neil. With that thought, he elected to ignore Neil entirely.

Until the third and final sign. Which was less of a subtle sign and more of a blatant siren.

Olaf onscreen was rapidly changing shape as Kristoff shouted out the different objects he was turning into. Until–

“Ooh, Elsa!” Kristoff yelled.

The most delighted squeal of a giggle that Andrew could ever remember hearing pealed out from somewhere in the room.

It took Andrew a second to figure out the source of the sound. He finally stared down at Neil and he could tell he wasn’t the only one who did so, although the others likely had more shock on their faces than Andrew had.

Neil was oblivious to the stares for a few seconds. Then he abruptly became aware of them, and his head swiveled around the room, swiftly taking in all the foxes’ stares in the relative darkness.

“Neil, that was adorable!” Nicky exclaimed.

Neil’s shoulders pushed back as he tried to gain a few inches of height from his position on the floor.

Andrew waited for what was bound to be a scathing retort from Neil. But–

“Um. O– Okay,” Neil stammered.

Andrew could tell the foxes around him were frowning down at Neil and Andrew felt himself mirroring their sentiments.

Neil’s voice sounded off. It was slightly pitched up, and Andrew was certain he’d never heard Neil audibly sound that nervous in the entire time they’d known each other. It almost sounded like some anxious child was doing a Neil impression and failing miserably.

In fact. That was exactly what it sounded like. And that was probably exactly what was happening. Neil had mentioned to Andrew that he’d been front-stuck for a few days now, but it wasn’t like Andrew would forget that his DID existed entirely.

Andrew slid down from the couch and sat in front of Probably-Not-Neil. As soon as Andrew was situated, Probably-Not-Neil ducked their head to stare down at the bit of floor space between them.

Which, if this person were trying to convince everyone to calm down and believe that they were Neil, was the exact opposite thing to do.

“You’re not Neil,” Andrew declared.

Probably-Not-Neil shrunk in on themself and their eyes briefly met Andrew’s face as they peeked up.

“Am too,” Probably-Not-Neil murmured, again in that voice of a child trying to seem older than they were.

This was definitely not Neil then.

Andrew was quiet for a moment, deliberating how he should approach this situation. He heard the movie pause behind him. With how much time he spent one-on-one with Neil, he’d been the first point of external contact for plenty of Neil’s alters, but he’d never met someone as young and unaware as this person seemed.

Andrew was not a fan of meeting new people but, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, he knew that he would do whatever it took to help Neil navigate his DID.

Andrew decided that it was probably best if he started from the beginning.

“Do you know what DID is?”

Definitely-Not-Neil perked up in excitement. Their eagerness at being called on like they were the goody-two-shoes in class seemed to overshadow their insistence on playing the part as Neil.

“O’ course! It’s, um, Dissocive Identy Disorder.” They beamed.

Close enough. If they knew what it was called, they probably already knew something about what it was. “Right. Do you know that you have DID?” Andrew asked next.

“Um.” They shifted in their spot. “Yeah.”

“Good. Do you know who I am?” Perhaps it was presumptuous of Andrew to start with himself, but he was the one who interacted most with the alters, so it seemed like a logical opening.

They nodded nervously. “Andrew, right?”

“That’s right.” Andrew nodded back. If they knew who Andrew was, then maybe they knew to trust him too. “Now, listen carefully. Everyone in this room knows that you are not Neil.” Andrew was glad they spent most of their movie nights without the freshmen. “And that’s okay. You are safe here, with me and with these people. We will not hurt you for being yourself, alright?”

Definitely-Not-Neil finally looked up and made eye contact with Andrew. Naked hope and disbelief shone in their blue stare. Their eyes made a sweeping gaze around the room at the foxes around them and then settled on Andrew’s again.

“Really?” They were barely hiding the childish lilt to their voice anymore.

“Yes,” Andrew replied.

“Okay,” they said, wiggling a little in their spot.

“Okay.” Andrew paused. He wanted to ask them more questions, but he didn’t want to overwhelm them either. Maybe the best approach would be to leave it up to them. “Do you want to tell me about yourself?”

“Yeah, okay!” They beamed. “Um, I’m Johnny. I’m nine.” Nine? Andrew did not let himself hope that Johnny wasn’t a trauma holder. Hope would get him nowhere in a situation like this. “Um… My hair is blond. But not like your blond, like a different blond.” With every sentence Johnny said, they seemed to get more comfortable. “And, um, I’m smaller than this so these legs and arms are too long for me.” Johnny waved the aforementioned arms around as if in demonstration. “Um… Oh! I use he/him pronouns.” He said each syllable meticulously, like he was quoting someone who’d taught him to say it. “Um… I like planes and cats and chocolate.” He ended his incongruous list with another full body wiggle.

When it seemed that nothing more was forthcoming, Andrew nodded. “Thank you for sharing, Johnny.” Andrew searched for something else to ask or add and came up empty for now. “Do you want to keep watching the movie?”

“No,” Johnny replied, indignant. “It’s your turn now.” He blinked at Andrew.

“My… turn?” Andrew said.

“Yeah! Can you tell me about yourself, Andrew?” More blinking.

Andrew heard huffs and coughs around the room that he was aware were just the foxes trying not to laugh at him lest they get a knife to the stomach. With how focused he’d been on Johnny, he’d almost forgotten they were still here. At least they’d kept their mouths shut and their reactions to themselves so far during this interaction.

“Yes,” Andrew decided. It was only fair after all. Andrew wouldn’t be the one to teach a nine-year-old that life wasn’t fair. “I am Andrew. I am twenty. My hair is also blond but apparently a different blond to your blond. I am 5 feet tall. I use he/him pronouns. I like ice cream and cars and knives.” He added the last one to remind the foxes that he was armed and would not take being made fun of for playing along to a child’s wishes lying down.

“Thank you for sharing, Andrew,” Johnny replied sincerely.

Andrew tried to inject the same amount of sincerity into his voice as Johnny had. “You’re welcome.”

“Okay.” He did a full body turn and sat cross legged with his hands in his lap to face the opposite end of the couch. “Your turn,” he said to Kevin brightly.

Kevin’s eyes widened. “My turn?” he said, flabbergasted.

“Uh-huh. Can you tell me about yourself?” Apparently Johnny’s anxiety had worn off as soon as he’d realized he was allowed to be comfortable around them.

Panic swept through the room as the other foxes grasped what fate was likely coming their way.

“Uh, sure, Johnny. Uh, I’m, um, Kevin. I’m twenty-one. I’m 6 foot 2. I use he/him pronouns. I, uh… I like exy and history and, uh, apples.”

“Hair,” Andrew prompted.

Kevin turned to Andrew. “Hair?” He frowned. “My hair?”

Andrew stayed silent.

“Why would I– He can see what my hair looks like,” Kevin muttered.

“Hair, Kevin,” Andrew repeated, accompanying the statement with a glare this time.

Kevin huffed. “And my hair is dark brown,” he added reluctantly.

“Thank you for sharing, Kevin,” Johnny answered, just as sincerely as before.

Kevin nodded awkwardly.

Johnny turned to Nicky, who was seated on the chair next to Kevin. “Your turn,” he encouraged cheerily.

Nicky, as expected, responded with as much gusto as if he’d had days to prepare this bio, even going so far as to list five things he liked instead of three.

Johnny, as was now becoming expected, thanked him for the information, and then moved onto the next person in the circle, which was Dan.

And so around it went, with some people’s answers more animated than others (Aaron gave his bio with the same enthusiasm he would give pulling his own teeth out, but he did participate, which wasn’t an insignificant step), and with people chipping in to remind each other of the prompts or to argue over details like heights (Matt insisted he was 6 foot 4 and a half, but Dan maintained that it was maximum 6 foot 4 and a quarter) and likes (“Alli, just because you wear a lot of green doesn’t mean it’s actually your favorite color,” Nicky asserted).

But eventually, after they all had taken a much longer time than probably anyone expected, Johnny ended off with a sincere, “Thank you for sharing, Renee.”

“You’re welcome, Johnny.” Renee gave her most beatific smile.

“Can we get back to the movie now?” Aaron grumbled.

“Uh-huh!” Johnny turned back to the screen, seemingly unaffected by Aaron’s lack of excitement. “I haven’t seen this one.”

“Have you seen the first Frozen movie?” Dan asked.

“No! There’s another one like this?” Johnny was clearly ecstatic over this news.

“Yeah! There is.” Dan deliberated. “Do you want to see it first?”

Aaron groaned softly. Andrew guessed that it was quiet enough for Johnny not to have heard but he assumed Johnny wouldn’t work out what the huff was for anyway. The foxes had just watched the first Frozen movie a couple of weeks ago, so a repeated viewing so soon wouldn’t be ideal.

“No, um, I like this. It’s funny. We can keep watching.”

“Okay. We’ll do the first one another time then, huh?” Dan promised.

Johnny’s eyes widened and his mouth popped open.

It was perhaps a disproportionate reaction to the casual suggestion Dan had made. But Andrew supposed it was confirmation that they wanted him around. Confirmation that Andrew was telling the truth when he’d said that Johnny could be himself.

Johnny gathered himself after a few seconds and nodded vigorously, moving his entire upper body with the action, flashing a grin.

“That would be awesome!” he exclaimed.

As someone pressed play on the TV, Andrew rearranged himself so that he was sitting next to Johnny in front of the space he’d vacated on the couch. It was a facsimile of the positions he and Neil had been in before, but there was now some distance between their arms where previously their pinkies had interlinked.

Andrew was once again struck with the thought that perhaps he was too dependent on Neil. He tried to dismiss the thought as not worth considering but then some part of him that sounded eerily like Bee advised against it.

So maybe he was dependent on Neil. Was that actually a bad thing? He didn’t know how the situation with Johnny would have panned out without Andrew there, but it probably wouldn’t have ended up going as well as it did. So, he reasoned with himself, maybe Neil and his system were dependent on him. It couldn’t be a bad thing if they weren’t being unhealthy about it. If it was reciprocal.

He decided that he’d thought enough about this. It wasn’t a bad thing, and that was good enough for him.

He tuned back into the movie as Johnny snickered at Kristoff doing the Sven voice to appease Olaf.

That was far from the only reaction Johnny had during the next hour and a half. He laughed at the funny parts and sang at the singing parts and sniffled at the sad parts. Andrew was surprised that there wasn’t a lack of sadness in this children’s movie. Andrew himself didn’t shed a tear, but he could recognize that shedding a tear wasn’t an atypical reaction to the events happening onscreen, as evidenced by the amount of sniffing he could hear from around the room.

Eventually, the credits started rolling, and as the movie ended, Johnny’s near-monologue began. The foxes did their best to participate in what was becoming an almost scene-for-scene recap of the film as Johnny reviewed his favorite parts, but Johnny was barely letting them get a word in edgewise and he seemed content to keep going on his own.

After a few minutes of this, when it was clear Johnny wasn’t letting up any time soon, Aaron got up to leave without saying a word.

Johnny let out a “Goodnight, Aaron” in between two of his thoughts but didn’t leave any time for Aaron to respond or anyone else to echo the farewell before he kept going on about Olaf calling for a ‘Samantha’ who didn’t exist.

Kevin left shortly thereafter and was granted the same sendoff of “Goodnight, Kevin” from Johnny.

The remaining foxes gave Johnny their full attention for as long as they could, but it was clear that they didn’t have Johnny’s youthful energy, and also it was later in the night than any of them had prepared for, after the ‘Can you tell me about yourself’ discursion that they’d had.

Matt was seated on the floor between Dan’s legs, and it was on the third time that Matt shook himself awake after hitting his head on Dan’s knee that Johnny seemed to notice something was up.

He stopped himself mid-word, turned to Andrew and requested, “Can you take me to my bed now?”

Andrew imagined there was an inaudible sigh of unanimous relief in the room.

“Sure,” Andrew acquiesced.

They all staggered to their feet, exhaustion making their motions sluggish. Except for Johnny who bounced up like he was ready to run a marathon. They said their ‘goodnight’s to each other, and Nicky, Andrew and Johnny left the girls and Matt to the dorm, Johnny walking slightly like Bambi in an effort to get used to his aforementioned abnormally long limbs.

As they dropped off Nicky at his dorm on their way to the one Andrew and Neil shared with Kevin, Andrew noticed Johnny start to lose steam. By the time they made it through their door, Johnny was barely paying attention to where he was walking, instead fully focused on blinking repeatedly and rubbing his temples.

“Are you okay?” Andrew prodded.

Johnny glanced at Andrew for a second before going back to focusing on the middle distance. “Yeah. Just– someone’s here.”

“Okay. Do you know who it is?”

Johnny was silent as he presumably asked the alter for their name.

“Oh! It’s Neil,” he said.

“What is he saying?”

“He’s confused. He’s asking me what’s been going on. I’m tellin’ him about the movie.” Johnny grinned.

Andrew wasn’t sure that that was the recap Neil had been hoping for, but if Andrew had had to go through basically watching the movie twice with how thorough Johnny’s retelling was, then it was only fair for Neil to hear it.

Andrew went through his nighttime routine with Johnny as a silent shadow. Andrew wasn’t entirely sure if the silence was because he was so absorbed in the recitation of Frozen II’s best plot points to Neil or if it was because of dissociation, but Johnny was going through the motions nonetheless, which Andrew decided was the important thing.

When they were done, Andrew guided Johnny into Neil’s bunk and started the climb up into his own. As he was halfway there, Johnny whispered a “Goodnight, Andrew” keeping his voice down so as not wake Kevin who was snoring lightly in his bed.

“Goodnight, Johnny,” Andrew replied and completed his ascent.

He got himself under the covers and just breathed. He listened to Johnny’s breathing below him, waiting for it to even out. He didn’t want to fall asleep until he was sure Johnny and Neil were okay, because he knew Neil and his alters sometimes needed help grounding themselves when they felt particularly switch-y.

Andrew was not quite asleep and not quite awake a few minutes later when he heard Johnny get up out of the bottom bunk. Andrew turned his head, and even in the darkness he could see the attentiveness in Neil’s eyes.

“I think Johnny finally went to sleep,” Neil told Andrew quietly, in obvious relief. “Can I come up there?” he asked.

That was Neil, alright. Always asking, never assuming. Andrew could count on one hand the number of times he and Neil hadn’t shared a bed in the past few months and yet here was Neil, still making sure it was okay with Andrew.

“Yes,” Andrew answered, because what else would he have said.

Neil climbed the ladder, and he and Andrew shuffled until they were laying side by side under the sheets. It was a tight fit, made even more so by the bit of distance they left between each other, but they squeezed up against the railings on either side of the mattress to make it work.

Andrew breathed deeply, finally at ease, and felt his muscles relax as his eyes closed.

Just before he drifted off, he felt a light prod at his hand. It went away quickly. It was just a request. No insistence. No pressure.

Andrew linked pinkies with Neil, squeezed once and let sleep take him away.

Notes: this was a tough one for me to write because i don’t know how to write kids and i also don’t know how to write as andrew but i knew i wanted both to be done so here we are. also i know frozen wasn’t out when this would be set let alone frozen ii but l e t m e l i v e.  leave a like, comment or rb if u wanna! love you for reading! xx

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes. (1)

―; summary: Florence Abberline was a woman bound to get herself wrapped up in trouble. Trouble came with the name 'Jacob Frye'. 

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 3.4k

―; warnings: light swearing.

―; A/N: i just think Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate is pretty neat. this is, if all goes to plan, a multi-part fic because i am obsessed at the moment (oops)!

i thought that i’d dabble in original characters for this and so forth came my lovely Florence. i do hope you all like her because she is indeed baby and i treasure her and her journey (that’s already mostly written out in my plans!)

do enjoy and please ignore any segments of terrible characterisation or inaccuracy; my writing hands are rusty.

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

― ❊ ― 

“Freddy! Fredd-- shit!”

Florence Abberline was something of an abnormality when you consider the temperament of your average middle-class lady. She lacked the charm in her spoken word than some of her neighbours and tended to be far too intrigued in tasks that didn’t befit a lady of near-twenty. Though, it was hard to dislike the mousy-haired woman, what with that sweet smile of hers. She was often caught bumbling about the streets of London, doing sleuthing of her own.

She had a penchant for finding dark information about suspected criminals. Time and time again, Florence had helped her brother in making an arrest on someone unsuspecting. This was solely because she was unfathomably lucky in that field. It also helped that, despite her assumed airy-ness, she has a superb sense of one’s character.

The glint in her eyes of honey brown told that she had found something of good enough interest to share. That, and the letter that she was waving wildly in the direction of Frederick.

He, and the two others he was speaking with, turned to look at her as she stumbled over to them, wiping the dirt of Whitechapel off of the knees of her dress. “I have a--” she inhaled deeply and made a ‘hoo’ noise as she breathed out, “I have a letter here that might be of interest. It fell out of--”

“Florence!”

She paused, her face like a startled hare and her body still locked in its dress-patting position.

His mouth was drawn into a tight line. Then, he sighed and held out his hand. “It is as though,” He took the note from her and she rolled her eyes to the side, knowing that she was going to get a telling off, “you never give a few seconds to consider and filter your words.” When she finally looked back to her brother, he was pointing a finger at her, “You’ll never find a man to court you with a foul mouth like that.”

“I shall not marry a man who cannot bear to hear me curse when I desire to.”

Frederick sighed deeply, poking his tongue into his cheek for a moment, before glancing behind her. He gestured to his sister with the hand that held the letter. “I apologise for my sister; she can be so… brash.”

Finally, Florence turned to examine those behind her. A man and a woman of equal height-- give or take a small bit-- with the kind of likeness that only befitted siblings. A strange sense of fashion with regards to the lady, she thought, though perhaps she was envious of her trousers; she certainly wouldn’t have tripped earlier if she had dressed like that. Gaze flickering between them both, she observed they both had a very similar twist to their smile and the look in their eyes told of amusement.

“Well, she’s not the most peculiar character we’ve met in London so far, so you needn’t worry, Mister Abberline.” The woman mentioned, to which her companion nodded almost too enthusiastically.

Florence, having had her fill of trying to assume things about them both, held a hand out for either to shake. “I apologise for my interruption. I’m Florence Abberline-- the sergeant's sister. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance…”

As she trailed off, there came a shake of her hand and the introduction of “Evie Frye”. She couldn’t help but notice how firm Evie’s calloused grip was; it was all but too obvious that the woman wasn’t your usual ‘lady’. “This is my brother, Jacob.”

“A pleasure.” He said with the kind of sly grin that already gave her the impression that Jacob was the more lively of the pair.

They were both fighters, there was no doubt about that. Both grips were strong and, while shaking Jacob’s hand, her eyes had grazed over that strange gauntlet they both seemed to wear. Evie seemed more fluid-- gazelle-like-- even in the way she stood and balanced her weight from foot to foot. Jacob, however, was the opposite and appeared to be very content with making himself out to be a brick wall of a man. Ever intrigued, Florence began a bank of questions she would ask another time.

With introductions out of the way, Florence turned back to her brother, an eyebrow raised, gesturing toward the letter. He narrowed his eyes as he read along the last few scrawlings of ink. Clicking his tongue, he passed it back over to her and she gave him an altogether confused and offended look. “What is it?”

“It’s interesting, Florrie--”

A little hum came from behind her, alongside a “‘Florrie’: how sweet”. She heard Evie mutter something and the sound of a slap on an arm, to which Jacob chuckled out an ‘ow!’.

“-- but we can’t just make an arrest based on a scrap of paper and nothing else. We’d need to do a house investigation and we don’t have the men for that-- especially not with all these bloody Blighters.”

“Freddy! You can’t leave a man to do things like that; he’s a people-snatcher! And, he’s sweet on me.” Florence threw her hands up into the air, the curls in her hair wobbling. The woman was certainly animated; the twins had already come to that conclusion. “What happens if I’m next to be snatched? How would you explain that to mother and father, hm?”

Freddy stared over her shoulder into the distance, bottom jaw protruding in annoyance.

“‘Sergeant Stolen-Sister’-- does that have a nice ring to it, Freddy?”

While Evie stifled her laugh behind them, Jacob unashamedly chortled at Frederick’s vacant expression.

Florence huffed. “Don’t blank me when I’m asking you perfectly valid questions, Frederick Abberline!”

“You’re being ridiculous. I’m in the middle of business and you--”

“Oh, you are insufferably boring sometimes.” She folded her arms below her chest. There were a few moments of quiet in which they could all see cogs rotating in her head, her weight rested on one leg while the other bounced up and down. Chewing on her bottom lip, Florence pointed into the air as if to punctuate her next point. “If you won’t do anything about it, perhaps I will.” Honey eyes locked with her brother’s dark ones. There was a challenge somewhere in her gaze-- a blazing mischievousness that made his posture slump. Before he could say anything to object, she turned to the twins, who were highly entertained by the entire ordeal. “Meet me in the market at 2 o’clock, if either of you are so inclined to help a lady who worries for the well-being of her fellow people.”

With that, Florence was off, deciding to continue on her endeavour of wiping the dirt from the pale yellow of her dress as she went. The three of them stared after her, Frederick looking particularly defeated. Evie appeared appropriately confused and her gaze flickered between the alleyway and Freddy, who likely didn’t have the answers she would’ve liked. Jacob, however, seemed fairly amused; his lips had curled into the kind of smile that would’ve allowed a laugh had he not also been taken aback by the young woman’s nature.

He pointed in the direction that she had left and Evie gave him a side-eye. “I like her.” He grinned, earning him a deep sigh from his sister, though Evie’s own lips twitched upwards.

Florence Abberline could easily be described as a hurricane of personality.

As Freddy turned back to them, he was pinching the bridge of his nose and overall had the disposition of a man who had dealt with her for far too long. “Just…” He showed them his palm like he was warding away an incessant house cat, “... ignore my sister--”

“That’s what I tell most people too.”

Smack.

“Shut up, Jacob.”

“-- and do not indulge in her fantasies of adventure; she’ll only end up hurting herself.”

Jacob dipped his head to one side, clearly about to object, but Evie placed a firm grip on his arm and gave Frederick a reassuring smile, though her eyes screamed irritation at her brother. “Don’t worry, Mister Abberline. We--” a rather harsh glare was thrown at Jacob, “-- will not be seen at the market this afternoon. Besides, what with the work you’ve given us, among other things, we should be too busy. Isn’t that right, Jacob?”

A snide grin graced the younger’s expression. “Of course, dear sister.”

“Good.” Freddy said, nodding to himself somewhat.

Florence had been known to worry her brother to no end since moving to London. It wasn’t that she was a terrible sister, per se, it was just that she had such an overwhelming desire for her life to be… seen that it likely pained her not to be in the centre of some kind of attention or scheme. She would make a pleasant actress, he’d always thought, but Florence seemed insistent on real-life experience over anything in the theatre. Oh, how he rued.

“Well,” Jacob began, already taking a few steps away from their meeting place, “if we’re all done here I do believe I have one Homer Dalton to bring to you, Freddy--”

Frederick grimaced. “Sergeant--”

Jacob, unfazed his attempt at correction, was still walking away from the scene, a devilish smile playing at his features. “-- and, Evie, perhaps I’ll bring some fresh fruit from the market back to Greenie’s shop for us all to share later.”

If Evie could’ve rolled her eyes any harder, they would’ve popped out of their sockets. “Jacob, no--”

“I hear the pears are exquisitely tasty this time of year.” He was moving further still and had almost turned a corner.

“Jacob--”

“Don’t worry, Evie; I would never forget the red apples.” The rest of him disappeared, leaving them both with the terrible image of his grin.

They stood in silence for a few moments, both staring into the air like they wished they could evaporate into it.

Evie exhaled deeply. “I’m so sorry. My brother is such a--”

“I understand.” Freddy gave her a tired smile and brief raise of his eyebrows before toddling off down the alleyway, holding up the skirt of his dress.

Hoping that this had been a strange dream, Evie shook her head.

Much to her displeasure, nothing changed.

Perhaps she should’ve stayed in Crawley.

---

In the afternoon, the marketplace was quite the attraction. Most saw it as a place to not only collect the next few day’s groceries but also to have a good gossip. On a good day, Florence would accompany her household’s cook, a kindly older lady by the name of Lissie, to have a nice chat and treat herself to a gift or two. If Frederick was lucky, perhaps he would get a trinket when she returned home but it depended on if she deemed he had been a nice enough brother that day or not.

Today was not one of those days.

Having changed into a cooler, green dress for the afternoon-- free of marks of her clumsiness, Florence would’ve been quite content to stand near the woodworker’s stall for a good portion of the rest of the day. She’s always had an appreciation of the little wooden figurines he sold. They framed the mantlepiece in the lounge of her home and she was contemplating on filling a shelf in her bedroom with them too. The little bird sculpture she held was sweet enough. If she’d learnt anything from the nature encyclopaedias she read as a child, she believed it to be a sparrow: a bird that she found to be quite positively adorable.

A hand came to her shoulder and she tensed, juggling the figurine to keep it in her grasp. As she went to turn, a body slid in place beside hers at the stall and a familiar voice said: “It looks a bit like you.”

Her lips tugging upwards, she allowed her gaze to flicker towards Jacob, who was perusing through the other trinkets sold by the woodworker. Studying the profile of his face, she raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying I have a beak, Mister Frye?”

Though he wasn’t facing her, Florence could see that he was smiling. “Of course not, Miss Abberline.” His gaze finally met hers and he held his hand out. She placed the bird in his palm and he began to examine it. “I just think it has… pretty eyes.” Jacob had a certain glint in his eyes, as though he wanted to get some kind of rise out of her.

The young lady rolled her eyes and shook her head, though the exhale she gave sounded like a laugh, which satisfied Jacob enough. “While I am glad you trust me enough already to express your, perhaps intimate, liking for avian creatures, Mister Frye,” She began, to which he grimaced and she let out a pleased little laugh, “the man I-- we-- plan on arresting this afternoon is just over there and-- pass me back the bird--” He did so, “-- is glaring at our conversation.” Halfway through her speech, Florence had adopted a rather charming smile, looking through the stalls at a rather large man, though the way he carried himself told of a lack of confidence.

Jacob followed her gaze and, at the same time, Florence went back to looking over the trinkets on display. As soon as the man moved his sight from her and onto Jacob, he seemed a great deal more aggressive. It was an unfruitful effort to scare him away.

Jacob’s smile only seemed to infuriate him more and he went back to moving sacks of goods about to avoid the unwavering stare of the assassin. “What’s his name?” Jacob asked.

“Peter Fullmore.” She mentioned, placing the bird back down onto the stall. Jacob glanced at it, then her. “He’s the eldest son of the local butcher and his first wife recently passed—“

“— meaning he’s on the lookout for his next one.” He finished for her with enough intent in his voice that she knew that he was speaking of her.

Florence hummed uncomfortably. “Indeed. I’ve never truly been interested in him, what with his strange demeanour and grubby, grubby hands, but he appears enamoured with me.” They both stared at Peter for a few moments. During that time, the man managed to wipe his nose in a way that could make some ladies faint. Florence and Jacob shared an almost identical look of disgust, which she took as an opportunity to elaborate on her plan. “His liking for me might make it easy for me to… make my way to his home to hunt for evidence.”

Jacob pondered for not even a few seconds before he reeled back and gave her a look. “You plan on offering yourself to him?”

“Yes, Mister Frye, but I’m not going to… do anything!” Leaning closer to him, her voice lowered, “He’s a kidnapper! Do you really think I’m idiotic enough to fuck him?”

He raised his eyebrows and a smirk graced his expression. “I suppose not, Miss Abberline, what with your strong choice of words.”

“It’s commonplace for me; perhaps you should get used to it.”

“Implying that we’re going to spend more time together, are you?”

Florence grinned, the dimple making an appearance again. “If you’re lucky, Mister Frye. Now,” She gave him a tap on the shoulder, as to move him out of the way and walk around him, “I’ll whistle if I need your help inside the house. Try to keep a policeman nearby, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“So, I’m a bodyguard?” His brows knitted together, body shifting in her direction.

“Of sorts. You look like you climb,” she gestured to his hands, which he then looked at too. Jacob ran a thumb over his palm and fingers. He supposed, with a tilt of his head, that they were quite rough, “and I don’t intend for you to just waltz into his home with me; I don’t think dear Peter is that way inclined. So, you should stay to the rooftops with that lovely gun of yours,” Jacob narrowed his eyes, now realising that Florence was far more observant than she let on, “until something bad happens upon me. Oh, and don't worry; I’ll pay you for your troubles.”

“No need. I’ll do anything you ask to keep the law in check.”

Florence looked unconvinced. “I feel as though you are simply saying that to appear more saintly.”

He smiled. “Perhaps.”

“Well,” Her face twisted in disappointment, glancing away from him, “that's no fun, is it? To think, Mister Frye, that I was going to be getting up to no good with you.” When her eyes met his again, there was a mischievous light within them and her lips tightened to suppress a smile. He shook his head and gave a quiet laugh.

He was going to have fun with her.

“Right,” Florence gave a sigh and Jacob nodded, “I’m off to work whatever magic I may have. I’ll see you in a bit, Mister Frye.”

“Stay safe, Florrie.”

Over her shoulder, she gave him a look sharp enough to stab him but the little smile she fought away made him break out into that terribly satisfied grin of his.

As soon as Peter heard the determined little clicks of her shoes, he shot upwards and gave her a dopey smile. She returned the gesture, her fingers dancing along the wood of his father’s stall. “How’s the day been, my dear?” Her voice took a rather enchanting tone and the way that her posture straightened— no doubt drawing attention to her figure— made it clear why she was well suited to become an actress.

“Oh— uh— good, I suppose. Pa has been…”

His voice trailed into the background of her thoughts-- not that that was a difficult task; poor Peter’s tone had never been particularly invigorating. Rather, as she nodded along to the conversation, honey eyes raked along him for any signs of his criminality. It was a difficult task, what with him helping his father, the butcher, often and Florence failed in finding anything. Though, the way he frequently glanced over her shoulder as though he was looking out for something was suspicious and his tendency to wring his hands together only made him look--

“Miss Abberline?”

She jolted and the absent look in her eyes drained away. To recover, she smiled and huffed out a carefully practiced laugh. “Sorry, dear. My mind has been all over the place lately.”

Peter gave her a concerned gaze, to which her lips curled in a rather feline way. “Don’t worry, Miss Abberline. I was… I was only asking what your plans are for the rest of the afternoon?”

Ah. Splendid.

“I’m entirely free for the day, Mister Fullmore. Why? Did you perhaps want to,” Florence’s voice lowered and she leant over the stall, closer to him, gaze dancing between his lips and his eyes, “occupy my evening?”

Peter coughed, blinking rapidly.

Florence straightened herself again and gave a saddened sigh, “Though, I would understand if not. You’re always so busy--”

“No!” His voice cracked and he looked surprised. If one looked closely enough, they would’ve seen her jaw clench in an attempt to stop from laughing. Florence could almost feel Jacob’s amused gaze watching them. “No, Miss Abberline; nothing would make me happier. I just--” Peter swallowed and his eyes flitted away from her for a few moments. “Meet me at the entrance of the market. I just have to finish up here then we can… be on our way to my home, perhaps?”

A smile that could rival the Devil himself graced her lips and she nodded. “That sounds lovely, my dear.”

With that, Florence made for the main street, a flame of utter delight flickering within her eyes. Adrenaline had already made its mark on her body: her hands shaking and blood rushing in her ears. So many underestimated the might of a charming lady. How foolish of them.

As she passed the fruit stall, she locked eyes with Jacob, who was rolling a red apple in his palm. He gave her a knowing grin, a sense of approval hidden beneath his gaze. Florence had to stop from giggling like a madwoman.

Oh, how devious she felt. It was delightful.