There was a lesson Thomas Skerrick had learned, one he had taken deeply to heart. Words were powerful, and every word had its meaning, that much was clear enough. Oftentimes, however, it wasn't so much what was said as who had said it. If anyone else had come to Temperance and given her money, promised her a gift, he might not have been as concerned, but Gael? There was a man whose gifts were not to be accepted, nor anticipated lightly without any due caution. So no, he hadn't been all that enthused to hear about the man's promise, or even his appearance in the greenhouse. Men like that were dangerous, moreso to others than themselves, because they showed a rather significant lack of empathy, and a tendancy towards cold, self-calcuated logic that defied reality. So yes, he had called in some favors here and there, found a few men that he could trust, and asked them in no uncertain terms to keep an eye out for Gael and his 'surprise'. And so far, all of that had come to... nothing.

There was a tinge of disappointment that came with admitting something like that. Effort, time, manpower, and so far, no one could tell him where Gael was, let alone what the man's intentions were towards Temperance. And it was that last part that kept Thom pushing, kept him poking around into the nooks and crannies of the city. Towards Temperance. Towards the woman that his life had no meaning without. Okay, that might have been the tiniest bit dramatic, but it didn't stop it from being any less true, when he turned his mind to it. And yes, he was still hesitating over the proper time to ask the right question, but for all that their relationship had been somewhat of a whirlwind, there were certain things you just didn't rush, not if you wanted to keep the family... and Melody... happy. And then there was Constance, who hadn't yet been introduced to him, and only part of the reason for that was her reputation.

So, put that all down, and what did Thom have? Well, a lot to think about as he worked, for one thing. Waking up next to Temperance every morning was a blessing he knew he would never tire of, still taking the opportunity to steal a quiet kiss before she could wake up herself, though he wasn't even heading into the office these days. There was the morning ritual of feeding Artos, a quick trip down the street to talk to a certain individual, and then back to the cottage on quiet feet to settle into the hurriedly modified spare room and get some of his work done. And that was before Melody even showed up. That in itself was always instantly recognizable, because it was the moment he lost his fluffy footwarmer as Artos dashed off in the hope of breakfast scraps. There was always that moment where he missed his walls of ledgers and notes, the large comfortable chair behind his desk at the office, but the moment that made all of this caution worth it was the moment that Temperance came through the door, and the happiness that settled deep in his bones was palpable on his face, the immediate smile that tugged at his lips.

"How fortunate, then, that you've come to distract me" he chuckled, leaning slightly to the side to so his head could rest against her for a moment, his eyes closing just to savor the sensation of those slender fingers running through his hair. "Though you know me well enough to realize that thisis not my excited expression." Blowing out a breath through his lips, reached up to take her free hand, curling his fingers through hers. "Just a few things on my mind, is all. Including you. But between you, a few daydreams about Sylthame, and Gael, I feel like even my mind is going to overflow far too soon."

"No, I suppose you don't look excited at all," she admitted, her smile faltering as he took her free hand and wrapped his fingers with hers. Twisting some, she moved to sit across his lap and look up at him. "Well if your mind overflows, I'll just scoop it all up and pour it back in." Silliness aside, she was a bit concerned now. No longer about Gael, though. Instead about Thomas.

He'd been cooped up in this tiny little room for days. His usual workspace was much larger, and with all that she was sure was on his mind, it probably wasn't helping. "Honestly, I feel a bit silly now, being so worried about Gael. He always disappears for half a season, makes a quick return to get his potions, and then disappears again. I'm sure whatever he was talking about that day was just...the ramblings of a sick man." She slipped her hand away from his hair and instead moved it to the side of his face, nails lightly scratching at the stubble on his chin. "You should go back to your office tomorrow. There's no need for you to be stuck at home all day in this tiny room. Surely if he was up to something, you would have found it by now. So that means there's nothing to worry over, right?"

The last thing she wanted was for Thomas to spend all of his time overthinking some silly thing an addict said when he had real work he could be focusing on. "Or," she continued, "perhaps you should take a break, if you can? Have you anything dire to work on? The mind needs to rest as much as the body does, you know, and your mind especially, because you never turn it off." The last part was more like scolding. He had been preoccupied lately, and she knew some of that was her fault. But she couldn't help but worry over him. "What can I do to help?"

His lips twisted slightly as she agreed with him, his frame settling back into the chair so she had the free space to perch in his lap. From there, it was second nature to let his free arm curl around her waist in turn, his eyes studying her face for a moment. Yes, she probably would put him all back together if he ever cracked, though that itself had been a bit of a joke. And besides, she was probably right about Gael, though that didn't exactly soothe his nerves over the matter. She knew all too well that he had his own reasons for having doubts about men who had fallen that deep into the grip of addiction. In that way, she could probably see the truth of the matter clearer than he could.

"Well, you know that we both worry about each other for various reasons." he chuckled, lifting his chin slightly as her nails gently scratched at the stubble that coated it as always. "And if there's one thing that keeps me from going back to the office, it's the thought of being able to just get up and walk into the greenhouse if I want to see you during the day." Which, of course, he always did, because she had that effect on him. "Besides, it's not just Gael. I spend more time thinking about us that I do about him. The future, and what it holds. Some of it, we know. That we're better together than we could ever be apart. That neither of us are really all that... normal, when it comes to our relationship. And that I really do want us to stand together on the black sand of the Obsidian Harbor."

That would be a break, of sorts, but this wasn't quite a proposal. Not yet. There were... preparations to make. Family to visit, permissions to ask, and... the matter of Constance Towers. "I suppose you could set up a time to meet your sister?" he postulated, quietly, shifting with just the slightest hint of awkwardness beneath her slight weight. "Of all your family, she's the one person I haven't spoken to yet regarding all of this." With a small sigh, he let his head fall, nestling it into the crook of her shoulder for a moment. "And that might be the best excuse for taking a break. Aside from simply having you nearby."

Her smile only grew when he mentioned that working from home had its perks, and it certainly did. She'd loved having Thomas around lately. He'd come into the greenhouse and sit with her, and they could talk about any and everything while she worked, and take breaks to snack or steal a kiss. Some of her customers had even gotten used to seeing him, and the older women especially loved him. Like Mrs. Shannon, who had adored him from the very beginning if for no other reason than he reminded her of Mr. Theo and he was a good storyteller. But she was never surprised. Thomas had been charismatic and charming since day one, it was in his nature, and even Mrs. Carmine had been easy enough to persuade into his favor. That had made life so much more peaceful. "Well, you're right, I can't complain about that. It's been nice having you home."

At first she hesitated to wrap her arms around his neck. Even still she had to remind herself that he was no longer injured. Their first season together had been a cautious one, every move careful not to aggravate what was already causing him pain. She hadn't wanted to add any weight or pressure to him, so things like sitting in his lap and pulling down on his neck had been a no-no. So while he was fully healed now, it was a habit she was still trying to break. Once they wrapped around him, though, she had forgotten all about it again. Especially when he mentioned marriage and her face reddened just a bit, even though it had certainly been on her mind as well. He was right, as usual, that they both knew where things were going. But to know he'd been thinking of it so much as well did make her blush.

"With my sister?" She repeated, a little bit of anxiety in his words. He had met everyone else, even Orion, but Constance was always working when he and Temperance visited her parents. By now Constance certainly knew of their relationship, and Temperance worried that she was intentionally avoiding meeting Thomas. The rest of the Towers children were single, and maybe that had made it easier for Constance because of the loss of her own love. But she had to meet him some time. "I'll send her a letter to schedule something. I am surprised she hasn't been by in a while. I wonder if she's found out you've been staying here? Though I'm not sure how she would." Constance could be...a bit harsh and while she knew Thomas could handle it, it would still weigh on her nerves until the meeting was done.

And then? What would come after that? Would he meet with her father again, this time to ask for her hand? She'd been worried about it happening too slowly, but now it suddenly felt as if it were moving quickly. "That's true," she smirked, moving one of her hands to rub his back as he leaned against her. "You'll probably need one after speaking with Constance. But then it'll be done." She sighed and kissed the side of his head. "Really, though, Thomas. Perhaps you should get some rest today. You seem a bit worn. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

It wasn't exactly a physical weariness that had troubled him for the last day or so. Far from it, as he felt more physically fit than he had been in a number of months, particularly after the daily walks to and from his office, or making sure that Artos got a sufficient amount of exercise. There was no denying, however, that there was a fair amount of mental exhaustion still trickling down from the events with Lord Mandrill. That had been a time of hurried planning, meetings, anger, frustration, and though it had been over for some time, the effects were still sneaking in from time to time. In truth, Thom didn't really know how to explain it. He had been a soldier once, like most citizens of Nevermere, and some vestiges of that training still poked through from time to time, but he had certainly never considered himself a violent individual, or even particularly vengeful.

And then, in a very short span of time, he had arranged for the surreptitious removal of minor nobility, met and fallen in love with a wonderful woman, been hired to investigate the disappearance of another... and much more besides. It seemed like when events decided to descend upon him, they did so en masse, and left him little opportunity to appropriately turn the entirety of his mind towards any of them, leaving his thoughts fractured and scattered in a way that admittedly disturbed his rational processes. And then there was the part of him that wanted to devote the entirety of his time to Temperance and ensuring that she was happy, safe, and cared for, which was where these worries about Gael had slipped into the fold.

"People find out things in a lot of different ways" he chuckled, sitting back slightly so his eyes could study her face. "I'm living proof of that, after all. If she did know, I would have expected her to raise a bit of a fuss, or at least approach you about it by now, though. And it's not that I'm worn, or even tired. I think I might just need a few more breaks from work in my day. There have been a lot of things on my mind for the last month or so, and I was so used to turning all of my attention towards one thing at a time that trying to juggle it all may just be a little bit more than I was prepared for, is all. But you should still send Constance that letter. For both our sakes."

Listening, Temperance tried not to frown. She pressed her palms against his chest, smoothing his shirt over a in places where it had wrinkled. "I'll write to Constance today and have Melody send it out. In the mean time, why don't you take a break now? Close your eyes, rest your mind. I'll take Artos out so you won't have to worry about him getting into anything." She leaned forward and gave him another short kiss and couldn't help but sigh happily and merely being able to do so. "And try not to worry about any of this. Everything we need to happen will happen when it must, no sooner or later. You eased my mind about the same thing not many days past, didn't you? Take your own advice."

Another kiss was planted on his forehead, along with a smile. "I'll have Melody come in and fix you some tea." She stood up from his lap and did a short spin, searching the area for a pile of black fur. It rested on the floor on the other side of the desk, and she walked over to lift the puppy up with a grunt. "Melody must be feeding him too much. Or perhaps Berengar. It feels like he's gained two stone since you brought him home." Though Artos didn't stretch quite as far as Edith, it felt no different than picking her up. She tossed the puppy over her shoulder, his paws flopping against her back as she carried him away. "We'll be outside if you need us," she said to Thomas as she exited.

"Melody, will you make Thomas some tea when you get a chance? I'm forcing him to take a break." Temperance said, peaking her head around the back of the house to find Melody pulling down the dried laundry.

"Fine, I'm going inside with these anyway," she grunted. Temperance chuckled at the older woman. Settling the puppy down in the greenhouse, he yawned and looked around. She knew his little brown eyes were searching for his best friend, Edith, and she flopped down from the desk as if on cue. "Edith, keep an eye on him, won't you?" She said, scratching the ears of both balls of fur with a grin before turning to her work. Retrieving her journal, she opened it to the most recent page and began to work on the potions she needed to make for the day.

It was rare that Artos barked at anyone. He would usually skip across the greenhouse and fall at the feet of total strangers, begging them for belly rubs. So when the little chirp-like barks pulled her from her work, she was immediately unsettled.

"Tempy," a familiar voice made sense of the barking and Temperance turned to find Gael standing in the doorway of the greenhouse. Edith had jumped back onto the desk and watched the puppy with curiosity as his dark hair stood up on his back.

"Artos, hush now," she said, walking over to pick him up and hold him in her arms. "Gael, I haven't made your potion yet. You don't usually come back for another half a season."

"I know, I know," he said, stepping closer toward her. The puppy growled continuously, and occasionally still barked. "I'm not here about that. I told you I had something planned, right? Well, this is it," he said, taking another step closer to her, which set Artos off into another barking fit.

"Artos, please," Temperance said, and Gael glared at the dog.

"Can't you make him stop? I'm trying -- I'm trying to say something here."

"He's just a puppy," Temperance explained. "What do you need, Gael?" She asked, rubbing Artos behind the ears to attempt to calm him.

"Well, I've been thinkin' a lot about everything, and now that I'm clean and I've got a reliable way to make money, I think I can take care of you."

Temperance's eyes narrowed and she took a small step back. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"Well, you know," he said with a lop-sided smile that almost looked shy in some way. "I wanna start courtin'. And then we can get married."

Thom grumbled, but his heart clearly wasn't in it, especially as she came back in for another short kiss, one that brought his lips quirking upward into that contented smile. "You're right" he admitted easily, with a small shrug of his shoulders as he conceded the point. "As always. I'll take a break, I'll have some tea, and maybe come out to take Artos on another walk if necessary. Then I can tell you to take a break in turn, and everything will be as it should be." His eyes glinted slightly as she bend to heft the puppy up in her arms, chuckling slightly at her complaint. Of course, it was only natural that a dog of that age would be growing, food or not, and Artos still had a fair ways to go before he reached the point where his paws no longer seemed oversized and clumsy.

For a moment, he watched her go, admiring her from behind, then he let out a quiet sigh, tucking his work away and rising from his chair to head for the kitchen, settling down into a chair just as Melody came in. Automatically, he started to reach towards the laundry as if to fold it, only to freeze at a sharp glare from the older woman, settling back down meekly in the chair as she bustled over to the stove to begin preparing the tea.

"We'll have none of that now, Mr. Skerrick. Temperance has you on a break, and that means you'll sit in that chair and drink this tea before you even think of busying yourself with some of my work." Tsking under her breath with a little shake of her head, she bent herself to the task again, leaving Thom settled into the chair. With the stove still warm, it was only the work of a few minutes for her to set a cup of tea in front of him, and he obediently lifted it to his lips under her watchful stare, ensuring that he was keeping to his word before turning her attention back to the laundry.

At first, calmed by the tea and the quiet bustle of Melody folding laundry with easy, long practiced movements, Thom's brain almost ignored the sudden burst of sharp little barks from outside. Then the thoughts started again. Artos did not bark. Not around the cottage, not even at the birds that perched in the trees to watch as Temperance went by, or noises along the street. An attentive look, perhaps, a cock of the head, but... he didn't bark. The barks stopped, then started again, then quieted, and Thom was on his feet, sending a look back in Melody's direction to hold her in place as he moved towards the door, leaning out slightly to glance towards the greenhouse. And a glance was all he needed. It was the work of a moment to slip into his soft boots, and then he was out the door, lifting finger and thumb to his lips to let out a warbling trill of a whistle, sharp and piercing, but still largely indistinguishable from the rest of the natural sounds of the nearby woods. It was answered a few seconds later from down the street, but by that time, Thom had already crossed most of the distance to the greenhouse with long, quiet strides, bent slightly to keep his shadow from extending past the man at the doorway until he could lean against the doorframe, maintaining his silence and shooting a quick, quizzical look at Temperance from behind Gael's back.

She was already defensive, which was not a promising sign. Whatever Gael had come to say, Thom doubted it had been a welcome surprise, but he wasn't about to interrupt without her say-so. Not yet. She had cautioned him about that last time. But that didn't mean he wasn't prepared. Just a few more seconds now... Or one unwelcome action, whichever came first, but he would prefer to wait.

It was in that moment that Gael had worn out the kindness that Temperance had been bestowing upon him. Her mind immediately returned to the conversation she'd had with Berengar not too long ago. He'd worried that she was too kind and that it would get her into trouble. There was always that chance, but this would be the end of Gael's charity. He chose to ignore what he had seen before him. She couldn't imagine that he hadn't known she was already courting someone, but even if he hadn't, how could he dare work up the nerve to come to her and say this before ever speaking to her, her father, or her mother about this?

Artos' barking had called Gael's appearance to attention, which was no surprise. The friendly puppy hardly ever barked, so it was very apparent when he did. Thomas came to stand at the door, quiet and aware, and though she saw him, she looked away from his eyes quickly because she didn't want to draw Gael's attention to him. In a moment like this, thickly tense, it would likely not go well. There were times when Temperance could tell that Gael would back down and flee, as he often had. But something was different now. He claimed to be clean, but she wasn't so sure of that. He might have been clean of the stuff he'd been on previously, but this new Gael was much more threatening, even in his positivity.

"Gael...I'm not sure what --" she started as she bent to set Artos back down on the ground beside her feet. "Stay, Artos. Stay." As she bent, her left hand, which was hidden by her bent body, slipped to the dagger on her belt and pulled it slowly from it's sheath. When she stood back up, she kept it hidden by her side, turning it slowly so that the blade sat against her palm.

"No, no, I know what you're goin' to say," he said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a pouch that clearly hung heavily. Holding it out, he stepped forward and offered it to her. "See?" She hesitantly held her right hand out and as he plopped the bag into her palm, it was so heavy she nearly dropped it. Her eyes shot back up toward him. "I'll give this to your father. To show him I can do it, ya know? And I've got more at home if he wants more."

"Gael, how did you get all of this coin?" Temperance asked, her voice as calm as it could be.

"You don't have to worry about that, Tempy," he said. "I'll be making plenty, so you won't even have to do all of this," he said, gesturing to the greenhouse. "No more taking care of all those old, poor people, definitely no more taking care of those men who come around just because yer so pretty."

She could hardly stand to hear another word of this. "That's enough, Gael." She stepped forward just enough to hand the heavy bag of coins back to him. "To imagine, after all I've done, that you would think so little of me. That you would dare come into my home and feel comfortable enough to make demands of my time and my work, to insist you will purchase me from my father, as if I were livestock. I will not have it, and I am not available to begin with."

Temperance slowly moved both hands behind her back, right hand gripping the hilt of the dagger, the blade still held against her left palm. "Tempy," he shoved the bag of coin back into his pocket. "Now I know this is sudden and all, but it's not like that."

"It's exactly like that, Gael. As I said, I am not available. You need to leave. Now. And I would prefer you don't come back."

It was odd, that after weeks of fearing this eventuality, that Thom Skerrick would feel something almost akin to relief as Gael grew more and more unhinged. It wasn't anything that he could explain, not per se. Maybe it was just a rush of self-righteous justification, that all of his caution and preparations had finally borne fruit that he could actually utilize. All the favors called in, the searches, the questions, and Gael had simply... turned up. Well, that was all well and good, but seeing Temperance back away from him was wiping that selfish moment of relief away and turning it inward, freezing it down until there was nothing left but the anger, cold and frigid, sharp enough to cut the air itself. Of course, it helped that his insurance policy had just swung athletically over the fence and crossed the garden in what felt like two large bounds.

"No." Well, that earned him a glance, as the woman skidded to a halt in the doorway beside him. Whereas Thom was tall, athletic, fit enough to get by, the woman that stood there now was like a coiled wire made flesh. Short, but lithe, each movement made like precision clockwork, and if the belt full of knives didn't make enough of a statement, the two slender blades hilted at her waist made her profession clear enough. And for all of that, all of that professional deadly certainty, there was a trace of doubt in her eyes as she glanced over at him, because it wasn't exactly a voice that anyone would recognize as Thomas Skerrick. It hadn't been delivered with any particular force, and his posture, still 'casually' slung against the doorframe, was not particularly threatening, but there was something else buried in his words.

Thom was not a man who practiced violence, so it didn't seem right for his voice to promise it, to drip that promise into every frozen, rage-fueled syllable. In that moment, his voice, often so polite or even warm, had descended down into the depths of his own fears, foibles, falsities, and feelings, and come back armed with the promise of every last possible injustice he would visit upon anyone who would even dare to threaten Temperance. It wasn't that Temperance couldn't defend herself, or that he felt some form of ownership over her, though they had both borne promises to each other. It was simply the thought of someone taking her out of his life, and when you mixed that fear with the catalyst of Artos barking, the sound of the plants crashing, the two soft whispers of razor-honed steel slipping out their sheaths on Mariana's waist, it led to a voice that promised to freeze the world itself with its anger.

Some men, when pushed to the brink of fury, ranted, raged, shouted their frustrations to the world. Thom's brain, honed and focused through years of his work, took all of those emotions, concentrated them, squeezed down, and compacted them into a fine point that could be compared to the apocryphal dagger's edge, held in restraint by the mass accumulation of every ounce of control he had. "You're leaving, Gael." It was not a question. And he would enforce it, if necessary, with every last iota of will he had. Not to mention the two bared blades in the hands of the mercenary beside him. "And you won't be back. Find some other place to take your twisted self, and disappear. Forget Temperance Towers. The only concern you should have is getting. out. of. my. sight. forever."

The reaction Gael had to her rejection was not exactly surprising. He'd acted dramatically before, many times before, actually. There was a patience and understanding that he had come to lack once his addiction had began. He hadn't always been like that. She could recall a time when he was young and few things truly angered him. She could recall the look on his face when he told her all of the things his father had done. Disappointment. Sadness. Fear. But rarely anger. Perhaps that was why Temperance had tried so hard to pull him back from his addiction. It had turned him into a completely different person. One she no longer recognized as the boy she once knew.

But his reactions before and his reaction now were different, too. Before, when he would come to her and beg her for the potion that he knew she would make him wait for, he would react with anger but it was never truly directed at her. It was directed inward and burst out, something he couldn't control, something he understood about himself but couldn't stop. When he knocked her things over or grabbed her, she always replied with kindness because she knew that deep down, he wasn't intending to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. He was just lost within himself. And it always worked. And he always understood.

Now, though, his anger was turned toward her. The potted plants that flew off the table landed against her bare feet, making both she and Artos jump backward. The jerking motion caused the knife in her hands to drag across her palm, creating a smooth slit where blood quickly bubbled up. Between barks, Artos whimpered. Gael didn't hesitate to lunge, but the icy words of the man behind them pulled his attention away from the small apothecary, whose dark eyes shot up once more. She saw Thomas, and the woman beside him that she did not recognize, and for a moment everything, even Artos, fell silent.

"No?" Gael repeated immediately, eyes narrowing into slits and hands rolling into fists, before he got a good look at the two by the door. Suddenly he didn't look so sure of himself, but his rage clearly remained. He opened his mouth to spit something vile but before he could, Thomas was demanding that he leave. Forever. Temperance was still, mumbling something under her breath and squeezing her palm. "Who's that, then?" Gael said, turning his attention back to Temperance, though his eyes moved back and forth quickly, never straying from Thomas or the woman for more than a second or two. "He's been here before, hasn't he? This the man that's in my way?"

Temperance didn't respond, she couldn't if she wanted to finish the summoning that she'd now begun. Gael picked up on this immediately, and he recognized his odds. They were pitiful at best with another man and the woman with blades involved, but if Temperance had the chance to summon something, he'd likely be ripped to shreds before he could run away.

So he made the move that a rage fueled addict would make. Not the smart move. Not throwing his hands up, promising never to return, and walking away. Instead, he lunged for Temperance and the knife she aimed at his belly didn't stop him. He reached out and grabbed it by the blade with one hand, his other hand gripping her wrist and jerking her forward. She lost her grip on the blade and he quickly took possession of it, pulling Temperance closer to him with her back against his chest. His free arm wrapped around her torso and the other lifted the blade to Temperance's throat. She froze, but Artos didn't. He continued to bark, nipping at Gael's legs. The man kicked one leg out in an attempt to hurt the dog, but the ball of black fur was fast enough to avoid the attacks.

"If I'm leavin'..." he huffed, screaming at Thomas and Mariana, loud enough in Temperance's ear to make her wince though it didn't break the chant she was mumbling under her breath. "She's goin' with me." Her eyes moved back to Thomas, unsure of what to do, unsure of how they could handle this without at least one persons death. Unsure if Thomas would even be willing to let Gael walk away with his life, now that he'd threatened hers.

For Thomas Skerrick, for a moment, the world froze. Perhaps it was shock, driving his brain into a state of momentary hyper-awareness. Perhaps it was focus, narrowing everything down on that single point in time where Gael made one last play to take Temperance. Whatever it was, it ended with a blade placed against her throat, and suddenly, it was unlikely that Thom has ever been more angry. But unlike Gael, unlike his brother, unlike addicts and desperate people everywhere, he still had that last measure of control, though the metaphorical lines that held him in check were certainly feeling the strain at this point. One deep breath, that was what he allowed himself, that was what could pull him back from the edge of rage and sanity, back into the world where cold, calculating logic could do its most good.

"That might just be the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Again, his voice was calm, cold and sharp as razor steel, but his hands were lifted, palms forward in as much of a gesture of peace as he could muster. After all, Thom was not a man of violence. Not even in extremis. Leave that to those who were more qualified to dispense it. "Say you manage to get out the door. What about the guard? Mrs. Carmine next door has a nose for trouble, and a fair number of doting, quick-footed children who could make it to the nearest posting inside of a few minutes. And even if she, with all her intuition, hasn't spotted anything, the first thing my associate here did was send a runner." Beside him, the woman inclined her head once, just a short, sharp nod. "So you get out the door. And you either turn your back on a mercenary with bared blades, or several guardsmen who have a tenuous grasp of the phrase 'reasonable force'. Either way, Gael, you've gone too far this time."

In the sudden stillness, he clicked his fingers with a little whistle, and Artos scooted away from trying to get his teeth into Gael's legs, circling around to take up a position at Thom's heels, though he was still growling, lips curled back and drool dribbling from his mouth. "But the biggest mistake you've made, Gael, is misinterpreting what it means to love someone. And that's the biggest difference between you and me. You merely want to live with her. I can't live without her. And we're treading on the knife's edge here. The thinnest line between everyone walking out of this place alive, and a lot of bloodshed. Put the knife down. Step away, before I run out of words, and the elegantly, effortlessly dangerous woman besides me runs out of patience."

The effect was small. Barely even a flinch that took that knife's edge away from Temperance's neck as Gael hesitated, or flinched from the pain of his own already lacerated palm. But it was the only opening that Mariana needed. Her arm was a blur as her wrist snapped out, and the small knife was slicing through the addict's wrist before Thom could react, cutting muscle and tendon before stopping dead in the bone. His fingers went limp, the knife dropping from digits that no longer had any control, and the second knife, thrown just as accurately, thudded into his forehead. But she hadn't aimed to kill, the rotation judged to perfection, and it was the heavy, weighted pommel that struck him, snapping his head back, his other hand releasing Temperance as he staggered back. And that was opportunity enough for Thom.

In two strides, he had closed the distance, hooking his ankle around Gaels and grabbing the addict's face with one large palm, shoving hard and forcing him off balance and down to the ground, blatantly ignoring the cry as Gael's head landed amidst the remnants of the pots he had smashed earlier. "Gael." His voice was oddly quiet, his knee braced on the other man's chest as he leaned his weight on top of him. "Think. For once, in this messy, fucked up existence called life, think. Not about yourself, not about that sordid addiction you have, had, or might find in the future. Think about someone else. What they want, what they really need. And when you're done, when you've figured that particular trick out, figure yourself out, dammit. But you're not going to manage any of that if you're hung up on the one person who offered to help you out of the sheer good inside her heart."

It was difficult to remain focused on a chant when someone was holding a knife to your throat, and had he pressed it into her skin any more then she would have been forced to stop. But Thomas's words distracted her captor just enough that he seemed to have forgotten that she was summoning anything at all. The last thing she wanted was to have to use whatever beast she was about to call forth, but if Gael continued to put them all in danger, it was better to have even more backup than to not have enough.

Although she could feel the way his muscles tensed, could feel how quickly his heart was beating, Temperance could tell that Gael knew he had made a mistake. He was outnumbered, and everything Thomas was saying was right. There was no way to make it past all of them and come out of it alive, meaning he'd be getting himself killed. The idea of living to fight another day etched itself in his brain, and gave Thomas's mercenary the room she needed just as Temperance finished her summoning.

A creature appeared, though it wouldn't be entirely visible to everyone from where they stood. It resembled a snake, but was as black as the night sky with large, silver eyes, and multiple frayed tails with talon-like edges. It was the size of a boa constrictor, and for the moment it remained hidden underneath Temperance's desk, awaiting the moment she ordered it to strike with a chaotic, frenzied excitement.

At the same time, two knives flew forward to temporarily incapacitate Gael. The first splattered blood from his hand all down her neck and dress, but at the very least he dropped his knife. Temperance reached around to grab the arm that he had been holding onto her with, only to gasp as the second knife flew and smacked him right in the head. She was sure the knife had been lodged inside, and pushed him away slightly as she stumbled back, hips bumping her desk. As Thomas strode forward, Temperance was catching her breath but she didn't let herself lose focus. The snake-creature slithered out from under the desk and coiled around her, moving up her arm to rest along her shoulders.

"Thomas..." she muttered, eyes finally finding Gael's head and seeing that the knife had not actually punctured him, but merely given Thomas the opportunity to take him down. Now they sat on the ground, Gael pinned by Thomas's knee. How had it all come to this? Temperance could barely hear what Thomas was saying to the downed man over the sound of her own blood pumping through her ears and the snake whispering things to her.

Taking a step forward, she hovered a foot or so away from Thomas and Gael, looking down at the man on the ground with disappointment and...anger. The man beneath Thomas suddenly looked pitiful, but Temperance knew the truth. He only looked that way because he knew he'd lost. If Thomas hadn't been there, what would he have done? Dragged Temperance out, kicking and screaming? "Tempy...Tempy, I'm real sorry," he begged. "I'll go...I'll go--"

"Yes, you will," she held her bleeding palm out and the snake slithered toward it, wrapping around her hand as she knelt down beside Thomas. Extending her hand, she let the horrifying thing slink onto Gael's chest and and coil itself around his neck.

"Temp--Temperance, what are you--come on, I'll leave! I'll go!"

"And?" She asked, her eyes as cold as Thomas's tone had been.

"I won't come back," he sputtered. "I won't."

"If you do," the snake tightened more, making the man choke. It's head hovered up in front of Gael's face, silver, barbed fangs bared. "One of us will kill you. We will not have our happiness stolen away when we've just found it."

Gael couldn't respond anymore. He only sputtered and spit as the fangs grew closer, but it was clear that he was pleading for his life. After a moment more, she reached her hand back out and, very hesitantly, the snake uncoiled and returned to it's place along her shoulders.

As he coughed to regain his breath, Temperance took a step back. "Thomas...let him go."

Fear was an easy emotion to read. And all too easy to instill in others, as well, though it was far from Thom's first choice when it came to manipulating people. But with Gael, fear and pain might just make enough of a difference when logic failed. Might... but even that wasn't anywhere near a guarantee. With his last few moves, though, there might yet be another option, beyond the dark, looming temptation of simply finishing the matter permanently with a harsh twist of his hand. He had noticed Temperance's summoning, but not the summoned creature himself, not until her muttered utterance of his name made him turn his head slightly to glance at her, the pressure his knee made on Gael's chest increasing, but his hand withdrew from over the man's face. To him, after all, though he would help Temperance in any way he could, this was a problem she wanted to solve on her own, and he leaned back slightly to give the snake-thing its place.

What happened next was... well, not unexpected, but it was certainly a side of Temperance that he had never wanted or hoped to see, for very obvious reasons. Every witch had a dark side. That was a given fact, a known quantity, and essentially a necessity when you were capable of dredging up creatures from the 'other', the 'elsewhere'. Temperance had found her balance in her life, with her potions and her life helping others, but it was almost the slightest bit of a relief that she wasn't completely perfect. Well, she was still perfect for him, and that was really all that mattered.

Gael sputtered, Temperance responded, and Thom watched as the last of that struggle faded from the addict's eyes, replaced with something quite close to abject terror. The snake unwound, but Thom didn't rise just yet, glancing back to where the mercenary had settled casually against the doorframe, one more knife idly twirling through her fingers. "Let him go?" he repeated, leaning more weight on his knee until Gael gasped in discomfort. "We're not officers of the law, Temperance, but we abide by it, don't we? Wouldn't it be best to turn him over to the guards, let them deal with a man who broke in, caused damage, tried to kidnap you?" There was a muffled exclamation from beneath him, until Thom turned his dark, angry eyes towards him. "So I can let him go, but only if he goes with Mariana to the nearest guard post. Or he waits here until the guards arrive. I'm not letting a man go who's already proven willing to resort to threats of death in order to get his hands on you."

Already, there was a faint sound in the distance, heavy boots jogging down the cobbled street outside, and Thom glanced up at her again, quietly, calmly, though half of his mind was screaming at him to find a towel and wipe the blood off of her neck. "That's my one concession." he said quietly. "He goes. But he goes to prison. Or a work camp somewhere, where he can learn a useful skill that keeps him away from society and his addiction."