Chapter Three

“Cordelia Jones…” Samantha reclines in a corner booth, twirling her drink in her hand and washing her face with an amused and knowing smile. 

“Yes,” Annette breathes out, scanning the rest of the tavern around them. 

“Every morning, you wake up to cook and clean and await the beck and call of Cordelia Jones,” she smirks, nodding for Annette to scoot closer to her in the booth seat. They’re tucked away in the corner of the bar at the Fleeting Faery, partially out of sight from the counter where Bill would be ready to scold them at any moment. “I can hardly imagine what that must be like.” 

“It’s… it’s interesting.” 

Cordelia had hardly spoken to Annette for the past few days, only offering blunt orders and occasional critique of her behavior. It was tense around 167th Mill Street, and Annette is eager to spend as much of her time off outside of the home as she possibly can to escape the powder box. It’s difficult to unsee the fearsome look in Cordelia’s eyes when her pride is threatened, and Annette is ashamed to have so sorely misjudged it. She feels foolish for letting herself grow comfortable with how she spoke to her owner.

“Baker and Jones,” Samantha giggles, “off solving every little crime in our city! Vagabonds and thieves, beware!” 

“I don’t help her with her cases,” Annette sighs, crossing her knees together and glaring at the floor. “She hates it when people interfere with her work.” 

“So she was lying, then?” 

“Yes.” 

“Pity,” Samantha sits back further, lifting an arm on the backrest of the couch, hovering just above Annette’s shoulders. “I found the idea of you being so clever to be quite an attractive look, dear.” 

“You could have helped me more,” Annette mutters, her displeasure slowly retreating as Samantha’s other hand drifts down to her knees. 

“I would have, if it had come to it,” she promises, though Annette is hardly sure she believes it. “I always strive to be the voice of reason in all things.” 

“Is that why you were so quiet when they plotted my assasination?” 

“It’s only an assasination if the target is of public prominence,” Samantha smirks. “For you it would simply be collateral damage.” 

“That makes me feel much better,” Annette rolls her eyes. 

“Come now,” Samantha pulls her closer, and Annette’s heart flutters as she’s caught up into her arms. “I would never allow such a delightful girl like you to come to any harm, dear. I have too many plans for you…” 

“Oh?” 

“I couldn’t bear it if none of them came to fruition.” 

Annette can hardly resist her attention. With each passing day she can feel her desperation build slowly, aching for the touch of a beautiful woman like Samantha. She knew it even as she carefully meandered her way over to the bar tonight that her defenses were in shambles. With each sip of beer she accepts the longing possibility of what the woman so constantly promised her. 

“And what might these plans be?” She asks, letting her body press even more into hers and encourage her attention. 

“They begin here…” Samantha’s hand on the couch drifts to the side of Annette’s head, softly brushing through her hair. “Where you are helpless to deny my desires…” 

“Indeed? I wasn’t aware you possessed such power over me.” 

“Don’t I?” 

The hand on her thigh creeps inwards, the warmth of her palm through Annette’s soft dress leaving her flustered and excited. Annette glances quickly at the bar counter, excited to see Bill was distracted and conversing with some other patron. Another quick look confirms its Mrs. Tellingham, easily chatty enough to keep him occupied for enough time to get away with plenty of mischief. 

Annette’s breaths speed up and she feels each one puff out of her nose hungrily, yearning to feel Samantha’s lips on hers. “Perhaps you do,” she concedes. “What then?” 

“Then… I watch as you give into my charms, swept away by your need for me,” she brings Annette even closer to her, sending a thrilling tremor through her chest. “You tell me you’ll do anything… anything… to please me, and I reply that I have high standards…”

Annette flushes, and the warmth spreads all across her body, jittery from nerves and excitement. She glances again at the bar counter, once again delighted to see Bill has yet to notice their advances. 

“Tell me you will…” Samantha coos softly. 

Annette gives in easily. “I’ll do anything to please you.” 

“Good girl…” Samantha mewls. “I have high standards…” 

“I will endeavor to meet them.” 

“Tell me you want me to kiss you.” 

Annette exhales excitedly. “I want you to kiss me.” 

Samantha’s hand lowers down to her cheek, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone and caressing her face softly. She leans forward, bridging the gap between them and kissing Annette gently. She slowly increases her pressure as Annette gives in easily, kissing her back with an eagerness she was almost embarrassed by. Her body comes alive at Samantha’s touch and it quickly becomes difficult to resist the urge to climb on top of Samantha and… 

Samantha breaks away quickly, removing her hands and reclining casually onto the couch, ensuring there’s a polite distance between the two. Annette is briefly disappointed, but the feeling is replaced by a flash of fear as she notices a police officer strolling into the bar, baton in hand. Annette scoots back from Samantha as well, occupying her hands with her drink and feeling grateful they were tucked away in the corner, far from the door. 

The officer strolls into the room, twirling his baton in circles across his palm, a clear and casual threat. He makes his way over to Bill at the bar counter, leaning across it and snapping for Bill to serve him while the room falls dangerously quiet. 

“Can I help you, Officer?” Bill mutters, filling a mug with some beer and placing it on the counter in front of him. 

“Just keeping the peace,” the officer gives him a vile grin. He grabs the mug, leaning his back into the counter and gazing out across the room. “Why’s it so quiet in here? There’s no need to stop the action on my account.” 

“It’s a quiet night tonight,” Bill answers, jaw squared and remaining close to the officer. It was in times like these that Annette was viciously grateful Bill ran the bar, able to keep his cool under pressure and protect them.

“Tell them to continue as they were,” the officer laughs to himself. 

“I imagine it will return to normal any minute now,” the bartender sighs. 

Annette tries to peel her eyes away from the situation, turning back to Samantha and feeling the hair stand on the back of her neck. Everyone else in the bar seems to attempt the same, though none of them can push away the awkwardness to return to their conversations. 

The officer takes a long drink from the mug, gulping it down loudly enough that he could be heard across the room. He lets out a grunt of satisfaction, slamming the drink back down onto the counter and taking another look around the room. After a few tense moments, he stands upright, gingerly strolling back towards the entrance without any hurry in his step.

 He turns at the door, calling out to the rest of the room, “We all know what goes on in here… One of these days, you’ll even let me enjoy the show!” He chuckles to himself once more, disappearing through the doors a few moments later. 

The room lets out a collective sigh of relief, thrilled no one had evoked his full ire. It was heartbreaking when someone was caught, and while it only happened rarely, Annette knew it was not something she’d want to witness again. 

Samantha however, seems remarkably unphased by the encounter. As soon as the officer leaves, her hands return to Annette’s body, pulling her close and sighing lavisciously. “Kiss me again,” she commands. 

She throws herself against Annette’s lips, hungrily pushing her tongue into her mouth and causing Annette to gasp in surprise. She melts easily into the kiss, letting Samantha’s wandering arms roll across her legs and waist and arms and find their way to her breasts. Annette sighs delightedly, feeling the tension in her body quickly give way to pleasure, unable to think of anything other than this feeling. 

“For Christ’s sake, girls!” Bill hollers, storming from behind the bar and breaking them up. “The second he leaves you’re back at it!? Do you want to be arrested?” 

“It’s fine, Bill,” Samantha growls. “It’s not like he’ll just stroll back in immediately.” 

Bill scowls, grabbing the drinks from their table and placing them back on the bar counter. When he returns, he holds his hands on his waist, sighing in frustration. “Out,” he declares. 

“Oh, Bill,” Samantha grumbles. 

“Please-,” Annette begins, only to be quickly interrupted. 

“You can come back tomorrow,” he cuts. “But for tonight, you're too much of a risk for me to let you stay.” He points a harsh finger at the door. “Out.” 

Samantha rises from the booth, taking Annette’s hand and pulling her up as well. “Are you going to disappoint me again tonight, dear?” She flutters her eyelashes and Annette knows immediately there’s no possibility that she would be willing to upset her. 

“No,” she breathes out, letting Samantha see the need in her eyes. She tightens her grip on Samantha’s hand, much to Bill’s chagrin, and allows the woman to lead her out of the bar and onto the street. 

Samantha drops her hand once they leave the relative safety of the Fleeting Faery, and while Annette wants to feel disappointed by it, she knows that it has to happen. So long as there was a promise that she’d get to feel Samantha’s touch again tonight, she’s sure she could withstand waiting a little longer. 

“So… your place?” Annette ventures, unsure of their next steps. 

“Are you kidding, dear?” Samantha scoffs. “Revier’s home for the season. He’ll likely have all of his drinking buddies over tonight. How much privacy does Miss Jones give you?” 

Annette shakes her head. While Cordelia had promised that Annette could have guests over, there’s not a chance she was willing to take that chance with things the way they were in the home. As far as she can tell, Annette is on profoundly thin ice with the detective, and she can’t bring herself to risk losing her contract so soon. 

“Do you know someplace else?” Annette taps her fingers together. 

“An alleyway?” 

“The cops are out in force tonight.” 

“Work with me, dear.” 

“I… I have an idea,” Annette thinks for a moment. “But it isn’t free.” 

To Annette’s relief, Samantha smiles and says, “You’re worth a significant cost tonight, my dear.” 

Annette feels her heart flutter once again. “Then follow me.” 

It’s a terrible idea, as far as Annette can tell, but at this point she’s run out of options and can’t bear the thought of returning home alone. There’s just enough of a buzz from her beer to carry her past the feeling of insecurity in her chest, so she allows it to carry the two of them through the streets, working their way past downtown and towards the edge of the railyard. There, they find a relatively well-kept inn that on the outside appears tame and respectable. Inside, Elenore’s Gallery is nothing of the sort. 

“You can’t be serious, Annette.” 

“Do you have a better idea?” 

Samantha ponders her options for a moment and sighs. “I suppose not. I can’t imagine they’ll just give us a room.” 

“They won’t,” Annette angrees. “Which is why you’ll pay someone for their services and then ask them to leave us be.” 

“Clever girl,” Samantha purrs. “Take my scarf, it’ll be easier if they don’t see your collar.” She hands the soft material over to Annette, who carefully wraps it around her neck, savoring the wafting scent of Samantha’s perfume rising from it. 

Samantha leads the way inside, directing Annette to follow closely behind. Inside, the Gallery is vibrant and exciting, full of colorful rugs and lights and even a variety of plants to decorate the entryway. Behind two front doors they arrive in a waiting area of sorts, where they are invited to recline on a faux luxurious couch, timidly awaiting the attention of one of the staff. 

“Have you ever been here before, Annette?” 

Annette blushes. “Once or twice.” 

“Scandalous,” Samantha hums, cautiously lowering a hand to Annette’s thigh. “I daresay I find that idea quite exciting.” 

“Only the idea?” 

“Well, I’ve yet to taste the reality, dear.” 

“Have you been here before?” 

Samantha lets out a puff of laughter. “You’ll never get an answer from a Lady on that question, my dear.” 

A few moments later, a young man in a tight suit approaches, kneeling down in front of the two of them and flashing a radiant smile. “How may we be of service to such beautiful women today?” 

“You flatter me,” Samantha giggles. “We require a room.” 

“Would you like to view the selection?” 

“You’ll do just nicely,” she grins. 

“And for your guest?” 

“She’ll be with me.” 

The man’s face flushes brightly and his eyes excitedly whip between the two of them. “I will have to charge double, if that’s the case.” 

“Would you wait outside the door for triple?” Annette asks. 

“I’m not sure I follow.” 

“We…” Samantha’s hand on Annette’s thigh tightens its grip, and Annette leans closer to her. “...I find it astoundingly attractive to know you’re just beyond the door while the two of us… well, a Lady never tells.” 

The man clears his throat and nods. “If you’ll follow me…” 

Annette’s heart pounds in her chest while he leads them to a room upstairs. Her face is bright pink as she hears the salacious whispers and scandalous noises arise from the various rooms they pass, and she grips Samantha’s leading hand tightly. The man brings them to their own room and opens the door, and Samantha folds a small check into the palm of his extended hand. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, leading Annette inside and closing the door behind them. 

Annette slowly strolls into the room, taking in the scene as a way to distract herself from the nerves slowly eating away at her. It’s a rather tame room, with only a cozy twin bed and a few cabinets. A large red rug dominates the floor space, and while it looks recently cleaned, she sorely doubts it could ever be fully sanitized. She walks forward and sits down on the bed, accepting the reality that she’d need to wash later. 

Samantha closes the door and turns around, lust dripping from every inch of her face. Annette would never understand Samantha’s affection for her - the woman could easily be confused for a princess in waiting, elegant and gorgeous, polished and suave in every motion and expression. She dresses down when she visits the Faery, but the one time Annette had seen her in her ballroom attire… she thinks about it often. 

Samantha has a narrow chin with a sharp jaw, which meets cheekbones that were high and characteristically Andlash, a country known especially for its beautiful women. It was common in folklore to believe Andlash women were descendants of the goddesses of old. Her eyes are icey blue and piercing, and in each moment it feels as though she can read every tiny expression and emotion on Annette’s form. She wears her golden hair in an intricate bun that Annette was sure some other collar had styled for her. 

“At last,” Samantha sighs, slowly making her way towards Annette. “I have you alone to myself.” 

Annette nods, suddenly finding her mouth dry and her words failing her. As Samantha walks, she teasingly lowers the sleeves of her dress from her shoulders, showing off more and more of her collarbone and upper chest. 

“It seems my power over you remains intact,” the noblewoman smirks.

“Indeed,” Annette coughs. 

Samantha leans over her, making Annette lay back into the bed as she climbs on top of her. Annette forces herself to breathe, hardly able to control her excitement as Samantha’s body hovers over her, her face slowly lowering to meet Annette’s once more. 

“You are beautiful, Annette,” she purrs, holding her lips just inches away. 

Annette feels her heart skip, unable to remove her eyes from Samantha’s lips. “I… kiss me.” 

Samantha obliges, leaning closer and kissing Annette sweetly. She sighs, closing her eyes and pulling Samantha’s body into her own, enraptured by the feeling of Samantha’s chest on her chest, her legs intertwining with Annette’s. She throws her hands around Samantha’s neck, pressing deeper and deeper into her embrace. 

Samantha’s tongue slides into Annette’s mouth, teasing its way around and causing Annette to shudder with delight. Her own tongue chases it back, moaning softly as they trade control of the kiss back and forth. Samantha’s touch is gentler than Annette had expected for all of her teasing and flirting, and with each light movement she slips deeper into her charms. Samantha’s hands begin exploring her once more, caressing her hips and waist and resting again onto her breasts, causing Annette to whimper and squirm happily. 

“Ohhh, it’s been too long…” Samantha purrs. “It just really isn’t the same with a husband, is it?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Annette mutters, gasping as Samantha’s kisses find their way onto her neck, working her way carefully around the collar. Annette wishes it could be removed and she could feel the full impact of Samantha’s mouth. 

“It doesn’t compare,” she sighs, lifting the sleeves of Annette’s dress down from her shoulders and hungrily turning her attention to Annette’s naked chest. “Your skin is so soft…”

Annette exhales loudly and blissfully, her mind racing through a thousand impossible songs of praise for the woman above her. She hooks a leg around Samantha’s waist, aching for her body to be ever closer. The smell of Samantha’s perfume, something unidentifiable to Annette but sweet and simple, fills her senses. Samantha slides a knee forward between Annette’s hips, using her weight to encourage Annette to slowly hump against it and causing her to moan softly. Samantha’s fingers dance around Annette’s breasts, circling around her areolas and pinching her nipples. 

“I seem to remember you’re twice-born, Annette,” Samantha whispers, peeling back from her focus on Annette’s chest and meeting her hungry eyes. 

“Yes, Miss,” Annette replies, her gaze darting away from Samantha’s eyes nervously. “Is.. is that alright?” 

“It’s more than alright, dear,” Samantha places a string of kisses between Annette’s breasts. “I was hoping I hadn’t misremembered. I have plans for you…” 

“What kind of… oh!” Annette is interrupted by the sudden feeling of Samantha’s hand slipping underneath her skirt and resting against her panties, causing her clit to siffen and twitch. 

Samantha giggles excitedly, “And there it is…” 

Annette closes her eyes and allows her head to roll back into the blankets as Samantha’s hand slowly rubs up and down her sensitive erection. It’s been far too long since Annette’s felt such an intimate touch from someone else, and she’s quickly restraining moans between shallow gasps of air. 

“You seem positively desperate, dear,” Samantha smirks. “Has it really been so long for you?” 

“Yes!” Annette squeaks. 

“You haven’t even found the affections of some young man to keep your needs at bay? Surely they must be chomping at the bit for you.” 

“I’m… not…” Annette forces herself to take a deep breath as Samantha’s hand increases its pressure. Her fingers slide along the sides of her shaft, occasionally stopping at the tip to circle around it for a few moments, making Annette’s hands grasp for the sheets. “Not interested,” she finally chokes out. 

“Oh, dear,” Samantha pities. “You should at least acquire a serviceable beard if you’re to keep up this lifestyle of yours.” 

“I need you,” Annette exhales, aching to feel inside Samantha. 

“Poor twice-born girl…” Samantha’s hand continues to stroke and her eyes lap up the straining pleasure splashed across Annette’s face. “If you had stayed once-born like the rest of us they’d let you play around with girls, you know.” 

“It’s not… not the same,” Annette pants. 

“Mmmm, you like how positively forbidden I am, don’t you, dear?” 

“Yes!” Annette throws her arms across Samantha’s back, trying to maintain her composure while her body quickly heats up. 

“I’d be forbidden either way,” Samantha whispers into her ears. “You’re defiling a Lady, Annette… how scandalous.” 

Annette’s head rocks back into the cushions as Samantha’s palm lowers from her clit to rub the area below, her fingers teasing her perineum skillfully. She shivers with delight, lifting her hips up to meet the hand and add more pressure to the sensitive touches. She wants more, and she suspects Samantha is deliberately withholding pressure to stroke her desperation. 

“Call out my name,” the noblewoman commands. 

“Samantha…” Annette breathes out. 

Samantha quickly kisses her again, relenting from the task of massaging Annette’s panties to throw her hands onto the girl’s face, hungrily flicking her tongue into her mouth. Annette’s hands grab at the straps of Samantha’s dress, pulling them down to bring her naked skin to meet her own. Their breasts press together, Samantha’s surprisingly smaller than Annette’s, but the feeling of the soft skin pushing against one another causes Annette’s mind to melt into bliss. 

The noblewoman pulls away, simply staring at Annette while she recovers her composure. Annette’s chest rises with quick puffs, hardly able to control herself around Samantha and aching for her lips to return. Her attempt to sit up and throw herself at the mercy of Samantha’s tongue is halted by the woman lowering a finger to her lips, teasingly pushing her back into the cushions. 

“Patience…” Samantha purrs. 

“Anything,” Annette nods, eager to obey and request. “Anything.” 

“You’re a very excitable kisser, dear.” 

“You’re quite exciting,” Annette blushes defensively. 

Samantha sits up, lowering her hips to straddle across Annette’s chest, grinning ravishingly as she stares down at the collared girl below her. There’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she gazes upon her. 

“What… what are you thinking?” Annette asks. 

Samantha draws a quiet, rumbling sound of satisfaction from her throat. “That I wish you were my collar. I could find plenty of uses for you, dear.” 

Annette smiles helplessly. As much as she hates the term ‘collar,’ it rolls out of Samantha’s mouth like a promise of divinity. Servitude isn’t how Annette pictured her life going… but in service to Samantha? The idea has its charms. 

“You’d like it too, wouldn’t you?” Samantha ribs. “I can see it in your eyes that you’re thinking about it.” 

“... I, it-,” 

“Shhh,” Samantha silences, lowering a finger to Annette’s lips once more. “Allow me to give you a taste.” 

Samantha lifts her thighs up, bringing them forward to rest on the sides of Annette’s head. Her skirt falls down around Annette’s chest and head like a privacy curtain, and Samantha’s panties slowly drop towards her mouth. The smell of Samantha’s excitement and natural scent fills Annette’s lungs and she’s more than a little proud to see a growing wetness spread over the surface of the fabric. She raises her lips to the woman’s warm undergarment and slides her tongue across it, closing her eyes to savor the delicious taste. 

Samantha sighs delightedly above her as Annette dedicates herself to the task, licking and sucking the juices through the soft cotton. “Every night,” Samantha exhales, “Every night I’d return home to you… mmph… and I’d bring you alone into my chambers…” 

Annette continues hungrily, slipping her tongue underneath her panties and tasting the wet lips beyond, letting Samantha slowly rock her hips against Annette’s face. Annette feels her own clit twitch desperately, wishing to be a part of the action. 

“You’d be my new chambermaid,” Samantha moans, dropping a hand down to the bedsheets to steady herself, slightly increasing her pressure. “You’d help me dress and undress… fuck… and I’d tell you all about whatever went on at that night’s festivities…” 

Her pressure increases again as Annette turns her attention to the small button above Samantha’s lips, sucking it into her mouth and loving the ways the feeling made Samantha’s legs tighten against the sides of her head. Little blonde hairs tickle her nose, ever so slightly damp with Samantha’s excitement. 

“I’d… I’d…” Samantha gasps, taking a moment to steady herself before continuing to speak through labored breaths. “I would have you massage me… ooooohh… tend to every aching muscle in my body. Heels are so wretched for dancing…” 

Annette speeds up, throwing her own hands underneath Samantha’s thighs to pull her down deeper. Her face grows hot and sweaty, trapped by the heat of Samantha’s skirt all around her, and Annette fights to breathe enough without losing any momentum.

“Ah!” Samantha lets out a low groan, “Just like that, dear…” 

Annette doesn’t relent, her devotion to the beautiful woman pushing her to dig into her own stamina and continue the task with an unceasing fervor. With every heavenly sigh or salacious moan that Samantha lets out, Annette feels a burst of pride and satisfaction. 

“You’d be at my bedside whenever I’d need… mmphh… and I have a great deal of… of need!” Samantha shrieks suddenly, hips tightly clenching Annette’s head. She leans backwards, arching the muscles in her back and raising her face towards the ceiling. “Don’t… don’t stop,” she commands. 

Annette continues happily, her tongue circling rapidly around Samantha’s clit like it would provide all of the oxygen she needs to breathe. Samantha’s ecstatic gasps cascade across the room, eventually culminating in one final loud moan that fills Annette’s ears with rapture. Her body tightens, gripping Annette as though she were a life raft, riding wave after wave of bliss as the feeling consumes her. 

When the feeling finally relents, Samantha falls to the side with a satisfied grin. She lays beside Annette, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of the redhead’s hair behind her ear and resting her palm on her chin. She pulls Annette to her, kissing her graciously. If the smell or taste of her juices over Annette’s mouth bothers her at all, she ignores it. 

“You… you are a spectacular gem that I have found, dear,” she swoons, pulling away from the kiss and laying back into the mattress. 

Annette can hardly reply, still enraptured by the display before her. The smell of sex fills her lungs, and the pink glow on Samantha’s face somehow makes the woman seem even more like a goddess. Part of Annette wonders if Samantha would let her return to the task once more, wishing to continue tasting her sweet nectar while hearing her cry out in pleasure. 

“I…’ Annette lets out a devoted sigh, “I’m restraining the urge to say ‘I love you.’”

“Not quite restraining it, are you?” Samantha laughs, her thumb brushing across Annette’s cheek. “You’re well on your way to earning my affections as well.” 

“On my way?” Annette raises an eyebrow.

“You should be so lucky to experience what it is like when I'm fully smitten.” 

Annette smiles, nodding and trying to imagine a look of love on Samantha’s face. Samantha’s hand lowers, slowly trailing across Annette’s shoulders, onto her arm, and down towards her waist. Her eyes glimmer as it finds its way to grip Annette’s bottom, squeezing it playfully. 

“I do believe it’s your turn, my dear,” Samantha steers, letting her hand wander further. “I can’t wait to hear what your noises sound like.” 

Annette gulps, her mouth falling dry. “I’ll endeavor to make it worthwhile.” 

“Oh, I am quite sure it will be.” 

 

– – – 

Annette is playfully scratching the feathers around Harold’s beak when the loud knock on the door startles her. Harold shakes his wings with a disgruntled chirp, immediately taking off from his perch on the stairs and soaring out the nearest open window. Annette grins as he leaves, slowly growing more fond of the bird as time draws on. She takes a short breath, striding down the main hallway towards the front door, gently gripping the handle and letting the heavy wood pull open. 

“Y-you have to help me!” The woman at the door sobs as soon as she sees Annette. She holds a plain handkerchief to her face, dabbing at the tears streaming down from her eyes. “He tried to warn them, he tried…” she mutters, disappearing behind the cloth once more. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Annette coos, throwing an arm around the woman and leading her inside. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

The woman is quickly inconsolable as the door closes behind her, loudly crying out into Annette’s shoulder as she's led inside. Annette sets her down onto one of the comfortable couches in the conversation room, sitting beside her and trying to help steady her. 

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” She says softly, taking the woman’s hands into her own and squeezing them gently. 

“They killed him! H-he warned them and they didn’t listen and they killed him and, and, and…” she disappears into another wailing sob, retreating from Annette’s embrace and pushing herself deeper into the couch. She’s spiraling, increasingly getting louder and louder as the feelings overcome her, and Annette’s heart breaks for her. 

“Shh, shh,” Annette scoots closer, trying to console her, “let’s slow down, Miss. Why… why don’t you tell me your name, okay?”

It takes a long moment for the woman to steady herself enough to speak again, and when she does, her voice is hoarse and dry. “Mary Rosen,” she croaks. 

“Hello, Mary,” Annette drops her voice low, speaking softly and quietly. “My name is Annette Baker. Can I bring you anything? Some water? Tea, perhaps?” 

“Tea,” Mary sniffles. 

Annette rises slowly, thankful that she had just set the kettle aside after making a cup for herself less than ten minutes prior. The water is still hot, steam rising into the air as she pours a little into a cup. “How do you like your tea, Mary?” 

“Anything will do.” 

Annette nods, adding just a splash of milk and a single sugarcube into the drink. She retrieves a porcelain saucer, plating the cup and carefully passing it into Mary’s lightly trembling hands. She sits down again, taking in the older woman while she sips at the hot drink. She’s middle aged, with strong wrinkles and kind eyes. She’s wearing a dress not much nicer than Annette’s, so she must be the wife of a working man, possibly something in industry. 

“Thank you,” Mary utters after a few steadying sips. 

“Of course, Miss,” Annette replies sweetly. “Are you ready to tell me what’s happened?” 

Mary nods slowly, taking another long sip before answering. “It’s my son, Henry.” 

“What’s happened to Henry?” 

“H-he works at the railyard. He’s a mechanic,” she explains, pushing away the quiver in her voice and the trembling tear in the corner of her eye. “There was an accident.” 

“Henry died,” Annette guesses. 

Mary shakes her head, not in refutation, but in disbelief. “I just saw him this morning,” her lip trembles. “He’s… I can’t believe it…” 

“Henry was in an accident…” Annette summarizes, “but you said someone ignored his warnings, that someone killed him.”

“They did!” 

Annette raises her hands defensively, letting empathy wash across her face. “I’m just trying to understand. Why don’t you tell me about the accident?” 

“I didn’t see it,” she confesses, “How could I?” 

“Then what do you know?” 

“Henry was always complaining about his bosses, saying they were never taking his concerns seriously. The way they run those machines ragged…” 

“The locomotives?” 

“And more,” she nods. “I don’t know half the things Henry worked on, but he said they were breaking constantly and no one ever let him do anything about it. He was taking extra shifts just to keep things functional.” 

“He sounds dedicated,” Annette agrees. 

“He is… he was…” Mary sighs, looking away for a long moment before continuing. “If Henry’s… if he’s gone because of an accident at the yard, it’s because Mister Bembrook never listened to him. It’s his fault!” 

Annette stifles a groan at the mention of Wilson Bembrook. He owns a significant amount of the railyards, and his reputation amongst his workers was… not pleasant. Annette had known plenty of folks that worked for him loose limbs and sometimes their lives, and more than a few had sold themselves into service to take the chance to work somewhere else. If Mary’s story is true, it’s hardly a unique one in Bellchester. 

“I believe you,” she nods. “It’s horrible.” 

“Henry didn’t deserve to die!” Mary exclaims, throwing a hand to her mouth and pushing away the sobs that want to escape her throat. “He was always such a good boy. Loyal, dependable, honest to a fault.” 

“So how can we help you, Miss Rosen?” Annette nudges. 

“Prove that Mister Bembrook caused it! He let my Henry die!” 

Annette is quiet for a moment. “That’s a tall order… Henry isn’t the only person to die in an accident at the railyards. I’m not sure we would be able to prove anything.” 

“You have to!” 

“I want to help,” she concedes, “but I’m not sure it’s enough to bring a case against him. Do you have anything else that might help us?” 

Mary thinks for a few breaths, sipping at her tea as she gathers her mind together. “Henry was a lead mechanic… he’d have to fill out paperwork sometimes. He always hated that. If… maybe he wrote down that the machines needed repairs, you could convince the governor that Mister Bembrook is ignoring safety requests. That’s breaking a law, isn’t it?” 

“I’m not sure, Miss Rosen,” Annette purses her lips. “I’ll talk to Miss Jones. I’ll try and convince her. Do you mind waiting here for me, just for a few minutes?” 

“Of course,” Mary sniffles. “Of course.” 

“I’ll just be a moment.” 

Annette rises from the couch, straightening her skirt and ascending the first flight of stairs with a dread in her step. Cordelia liked cases that were interesting and fresh, that might have some unexpected twist. Another railyard death from an incompetant boss wasn’t likely to excite her. She’s hardly spoken to Annette since the night of Lady Wilva’s arrest. 

She arrives at the heavy double doors that lead to Cordelia’s study and takes a long few breaths, trying to piece together some reason that this case would be worth her time. Annette doubts anything she says will help, and as she knocks lightly on the door a sense of defeat already trickles into her stomach. 

“What is it, Miss Baker?” Cordelia grumbles from behind the doors. 

“May I speak with you, Miss Jones? A client has come calling.” 

There’s a tense pause, followed a moment later by the sound of Cordelia’s desk chair scraping against the floor. One of the doors swings open, and Cordelia leans forward, laying against the wood frame. She’s scowling and faintly smells of whiskey, which is a bit early even for her. 

“I’m not taking on any new cases,” she mutters. 

“I think this one could be worth your while,” Annette begins, trying to keep her voice exciting, “It could have far-reaching impacts-,” 

“I’ve told you not to disturb me in my study, Annette.” 

“And normally I wouldn’t, but this case is-,” 

Cordelia holds up a hand and Annette silences herself. “Go away.” 

“Miss Jones, this case is-,” 

“You never listen,” Cordelia cuts. “I’ve never met a collar who disrespects an owner so fantastically and consistently.” 

Annette hangs her head, trying to think of any words that could salvage this moment and coming up short. She can feel her frozen frustrations thaw, trying to escape the icy prison she had locked them into.

“You’re smug,” Cordelia huffs, “and arrogant, and disobedient, and constantly testing my temperament, Annette. And now you’ve got the nerve to decide which cases I should and should not take upon myself?” 

“I’m not trying to-,” 

“Enough!” The detective steps forth, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “You are a constant disappointment.” 

“Disappointment?” There’s something else behind Cordelia’s words, though it's difficult to understand. 

“Collars are to be seen but not heard, Miss Baker. They are to respect their owners, obey orders immediately and without question, and to be grateful at all times. You successfully complete none of these tasks.” 

Annette looks at Cordelia’s green eyes, piercing through her skin and trying to break her spirit. She remembers the feeling of the detective’s grip forcing her to the ground, staring daggers at her and hoping to break her spirit. But she also remembers her amusement that Annette didn’t seem to fear her, and the emptiness in her eyes when she realized Annette could be frightened. 

“Then remove me,” Annette threatens, squaring her shoulders and staring Cordelia down. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I believe I misjudged you,” she continues, trying to muster as much fight as possible. “I had believed that while you were eccentric and strange, at least you were principled. Now, it seems you are simply petulant and hateful. If you are so exhausted by my manners, then remove me now and be done with me.” 

Cordelia is quiet, her brows lowering and her eyes narrowing. She frowns, letting her gaze drift up and down Annette’s form, surveying the servant as though confused she could possess the resolve to strike back. Her arms tighten across her chest, and she sways from foot to foot, shifting her weight as her words fail her. 

Annette decides to push her luck, concluding, “I would like to believe my skills of perception to be accurate, and that my initial judgment of you was not a falsehood. If you would wish to keep holding my contract, do so with the understanding that I will only respect you if you live up to these standards.” 

A tense moment befalls the two of them as Cordelia ponders her words. Her expression fills up with the same uncertain potential that had crossed it the night they quarreled last. She was, and is, capable of anything, and Annette hopes her gamble is worth the risk she’s undertaken. Cordelia could just as easily hold onto her contract for its entire duration and spend the next six years harshly punishing Annette. 

“Christ, Annette,” Cordelia grumbles. “What exactly is this case?” 

Annette holds her breath, releasing it slowly and feeling her hands shaking with nerves. She explains the details of the case, hoping to make it as enticing as possible, though Cordelia looks hardly impressed. 

“You staked your entire position here for a case of workplace neglect indistinguishable from any other possible death? There’s a thousand stories just like Henry.” 

“Then we should do something about it,” Annette pleads. “If anyone is able to put a stop to a miserable tycoon like Bembrook, it’s Cordelia Jones.” 

“You’re delusional.” 

“What is the point of being a detective if not to help people, Miss Jones? So help Mary and the rest of Henry’s family.” 

“This matters that much to you?” Cordelia looks incredulous, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. 

“Yes,” Annette concedes quietly. “Plenty of kids I knew growing up have been hurt by people like Bembrook.” 

Cordelia paces away down the hallway, walking back and forth a handful of times. Her face is stoic and neutral, though her eyes are constantly flicking around, trying to piece together her thoughts. Annette steps back, allowing her walk to continue uninterrupted, hoping she hadn’t just put herself on the line just to fail. 

“If you want me to take on an extra case,” Cordelia sighs, “then I’m folding it into your usual duties.” 

“You want me to help you?” 

“I’m requiring you to assist me.” 

“But you’ll take on the case?” 

Cordelia nods, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Yes.”