gather round || [MARY]

HIDE YOUR LOVE AWAY

[attr="class","next"] Helen had to admit that her surprise should have been unwarranted. She, after all, was in a similar position to Ms. Adams. She was a woman working in the man’s world — the guard hadn’t been designed for ladies, at least, not in Wonderland. She offered her the seat in front of her desk and immediately the lavish woman sat down. Her furs fell slightly from her shoulders as she scrutinized the woman behind the desk. She was beautiful — blonde, blue eyed, a woman who looked like she could be both delicate and stern at the same time. Helen wondered if they had given her her case on purpose.

"Nice to meet you, Mary." Just the same as she raised her eyebrows, the woman quickly grabbed a pen and paper and began jotting a few things down. She knew of the situation, obviously she had been briefed. Then the questions began firing. Helen moved the chair forward ever so slightly as she contemplated the answers to such questions.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to answer. She wanted her own answers, but she did not want the break-ins to stop. In fact, she had as of late, taken to leaving her windows unlatched in hopes that her little visitor would return. But that was simply wishful thinking, as she hadn’t seen him for a few weeks now. “I can remember quite a few things.” She mused, looking down at her fingernails as she held them up to the light. She was in desperate need of a manicure. Castle work could get so…tedious.

“I was coming home from the tavern the other night when out of the blue, there’s this man in my house. Tall, dark, handsome, leather-clad—” She feigned disinterest, keeping her story practically monotone as she spoke. “He tries to steal my furs, but of course, I apprehended him and he managed to sneak off with my locket. It was a gift, from..someone. Has his picture in it.” She tapped Mary’s paper as she made certain the woman noted that detail. “It happened again a few nights later. Same guy, this time in my living room. He accosted me.” Well, that part was a lie. From her memory, she drew up that night. The feeling of his breath against her lips — the almost kiss.

Her cheeks flushed, but she could always chalk that up to anger. “He came in my house, ate my food and drank my wine. He’s a menace, cadet. Spouting something about taking from the damn rich and giving to the poor like he was some vigilante or something. Where’s he get off?” That was very important, she reminded herself. "And those arrows! He's broken at least three lights in my house with those arrows!"

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HIDE YOUR LOVE AWAY

[attr="class","next"] Helen stopped mid-sentence to look at the woman who had stopped writing to question what she had just said. Had she said too much? Said too little? She raised her eyebrows, expecting Mary Adams to continue writing, but she did not. Instead, she was staring at Helen as if she had just struck some sort of chord in a manic drama. “Yes?” She pulled the fur stoles around her shoulders as she practically rolled her eyes. “Keep up, cadet. He said he steals from the rich and gives to the poor.” The repetition was growing tedious for Helen who rarely liked to discuss anything other than military strategy for any period at length.

“Do you know who he is?” Helen asked, raising her eyebrows as she looked across the desk at the woman. Something about this exchange seemed odd.

Mary asked for the arrows and Hel held up her hand to silence her momentarily. Reaching into the purse that she brought, she drew one of the arrows — the one that had smashed her bedroom lamp a few nights ago. Using one of her handkerchiefs to maneuver it, she placed it on the desk in front of the blonde woman. “There. There’s three more at my house if you’re interested.” They didn’t look like anything special to her — just as homemade arrows were supposed to look, but perhaps Mary could give her more insight. “Peace is all I’m really after. I can’t keep worrying that this idiot is going to break in and try to steal my furs again.” That was when she heard the woman muttering under her breath.

“Robin?” She raised her eyebrows immediately. “So you do know him.” Now she was curious. If the archer wasn’t going to give her his name, she could get it other places. This Mary seemed to know a bit about him, judging by the way that she continuously shifted in her chair every time she said another word about the situation. By the end of this, she would probably have dear old Robin’s full name and street address. Perhaps Helen would send him a post card from her mansion because that was as close as he would be getting to it.

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