The bell above the door chimed softly as the afternoon thinned.
Mr. Hallow closed the ledger with a precise tap of his finger.
"That will be all for today, Adrian. You may go."
Adrian wiped his hands on a cloth, then straightened.
"Before I leave, sir," he began, careful to keep his tone respectful, "I should mention that for the next few afternoons, I may need to step away for a brief time. There are… personal matters that require my attention."
Mr. Hallow arched a brow, pen poised over the ledger.
"Personal matters?"
"Yes, sir," Adrian replied, glancing toward the door. "It will not interfere with the work at hand. All deliveries and records will be accounted for before I depart each day."
Mr. Hallow studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
"Very well. Ensure your duties are in order. I trust you will not let routine lapse."
"Of course, sir," Adrian said, inclining his head. "I will manage it carefully."
He completed one final delivery log, set the pen carefully back into its holder, and reached for his coat. The shop felt quieter now, the steady rhythm of work easing into stillness.
Outside, the light had shifted. Afternoon leaned toward evening.
Adrian stepped into the street, umbrella tucked beneath his arm. The city no longer rushed but waited.
He had nearly reached the corner when he spotted Wellington's brothers by the apothecary window, bickering with each other. From the look of it, Thomas had the upper hand, which was rare.
"You both seem rather intimate," Adrian said mildly. "So much so that you failed to notice me at all."
Both turned at once, expressions less than welcoming.
----
Thomas turned first, eyes narrowing before recognition sparked at the voice.
"Well," Thomas said, bowing slightly, "if it isn't Turner Gate's resident poet-philosopher. Come to bless us with another verbal masterpiece?"
Matthew groaned softly.
Adrian smiled politely. "I greeted you both. I assumed intimacy required acknowledgement."
Thomas scoffed. "Listen to that. "Even his rebukes are poetic."
Matthew finally exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Don't start, Thomas."
"Oh, I intend to," Thomas replied cheerfully. Thomas replied cheerfully. "You've been walking around like a man who misplaced his spine. Care to explain?"
Adrian glanced between them. "Is something the matter?"
Thomas grinned. "He danced."
Adrian blinked. "That doesn't sound troubling."
"With feeling," Thomas added.
Matthew shot him a glare. "You're enjoying this too much."
"I am," Thomas agreed. "A wise man once told me this, 'A well-timed dance has rescued more evenings than diplomacy ever could', but in your case it did the opposite." He mimicked Matthew, spreading his hands in exaggerated imitation, adopting the same solemn posture Matthew used when praising himself.
Adrian tried and failed not to smile.
Matthew rubbed his temples. "You're unbearable."
"And yet," Thomas said smugly, "entirely accurate."
Adrian tilted his head. "Did something happen at the Verin estate?"
Matthew stiffened.
Before he could answer, Adrian spoke again, too quickly.
"Well, whatever it was, I won't be joining you. I'll be occupied for a few days. I've adjusted my schedule."
Thomas's brows rose. "Occupied?"
"Yes," Adrian said, nodding. "I mentioned it to Mr. Hallow. I'll still manage my duties, of course. It's just… she—"
He stopped.
Too late.
Thomas's smile spread slowly, dangerously.
"She?" he repeated.
Matthew turned sharply. "She?"
Adrian realized what he'd said and cleared his throat. "A—an acquaintance," he corrected, ears warming. "Her name is Selene."
Thomas folded his arms, delighted.
"Mark this day, Matthew. Adrian has discovered love and scheduled it."
"I do not have her," Adrian protested.
"Yet," Thomas added cheerfully.
Matthew studied Adrian, incredulous. "You? Scheduling afternoons?"
Adrian defended himself. "It is efficient." He sighed. "I did not intend for this to become a topic."
"No," Thomas said lightly. "But it is deeply amusing. Of course it is romance, but organized."
Matthew sighed. "I cannot believe this."
Thomas clapped an arm around both of them. "Look at us. One haunted by a wink, one soon to be undone by a pronoun."
He grinned.
"And me? Perfectly entertained."