Villainy and Flattery

Feeling a little dizzy, Harrow obediently leaned down anyways to let her kiss their cheek. They would have kissed her hand again had it been offered, but it seemed that bit of etiquette wasn’t needed now. The mage’s brows raised in a look of mild amusement and fondness at the ‘card trick’. A fancy card for a fancy lady. They had never been given one before, even at the more upscale parties they’d gone to in the past. They wondered when she would find the little gift - a small, wooden songbird they’d whittled - that Harrow had slipped into her pocket. It wasn’t quite as nice as the card, but it’d do.

Her offer earned another nod, a small grin at the idea of another night spent dancing with her - and her consideration about the fire was quietly appreciated though they made no mention of it. 

“Goodnight, Lasair,” Harrow smiled and watched her leave, shaking their head in wonderment as the lady shifted into some kind of magical disguise. What a lady. What a night. They watched until she was out of sight, then turned to head home. 

-

As Harrow made it to the top of the exterior stairs, they saw an owl perched on the railing as though it had been waiting for them. They sighed and fumbled with their keys. “Spare me the lecture.” 

The Owl clacked its beak unhappily, and spoke - its voice, neither particularly masculine nor feminine, sounded concerned. Aggrieved, even. “You were gone all night. What were you-“ 

“Weren’t you listening? You’re-“ Harrow had to put their shoulder to the door to get it unstuck, and stumbled a little as it swung open. “-you’re not my mother, birdbrain. No lectures.” 

“You’re drunk,” Owl said, hopping down to the floor to follow its mage inside, claws tapping on the wood planks. 

“Yeah. And you’re a bird. A fake bird.” 

“You need to be more careful-“ 

“I was plenty careful! And I had- I made a friend.” Harrow took off their coat, hanging it up by the door. The moths fluttered out, coming to rest on various items of dusty furniture. “I was with her the whole time. I swear. She had bodyguards. I was- I was perfectly safe.” That last bit was not true, and they knew it. It had been worth the risk though, getting to know Lasair despite the threats; she’d been lovely. The stolen treasure they’d stuffed in their pockets was also worth it: if they could sell it they wouldn’t have to worry about paying the rent for a few months, or have to scrape by with food. 

The Owl sighed, and relented. It was useless scolding them when they probably wouldn’t remember it. “Your.. friend. What’s her name?” It came over to perch on the nightstand while the mage sat heavily on the bed. 

“Lasair. She’s the.. the..” Harrow gestured vaguely, busy untying their boots. The boots were kicked off to the side - the Owl hopped down to set them upright and retrieve the socks, which then went into the laundry basket. “The noble lady, you know? With the murder.” They made a vain attempt to take off their clothes and get ready for bed before giving up and just laying down fully dressed. “She’s sweet though. She called me sweetheart.. And she kissed me.” Harrow smiled tiredly, squinting at the dawn light painting the ceiling shades of pink. Their eyes were so heavy, it was hard to keep them open.

There was a tell-tale clacking of claws on the wardrobe, and an almost-soundless little sigh in the darker part of the room. “Go to sleep, Harrow.” And they did.