To the average onlooker, Aslan appeared calm. They didn’t know the minute tightening in the right corner of his mouth that yearned, desperately yearned for Nisa to be the wonderful young woman their father had been so sure of. The caring, doting sister that she presented herself to be. Someone who saw pain as something to be alleviated rather than used.

Hubert wiped wine from his mouth, gaping … but more ‘wine’ poured from it. Martha was sobbing beside him. Aslan was dutifully avoiding Martha’s gaze.

“Hubert, let’s- let’s just go!” She shot a frightened look Nisa’s way. “Before things get worse!”

Though Nisa was already doused, Aslan still drew his hand away from her and pressed, careful not to let his blood near her.

Crane. Cold shot through his veins. The last thing he needed was her paying more attention to Crane – or vice versa.

There was still a few open gawkers around them, gossiping loudly about what they’d just seen. Unfortunately for Aslan, someone else had already had the same idea as Nisa and went to get Constable Crane.

“Shall we report first, or take a moment to properly clean up?”

He didn’t want to be alone with her, but better him than getting Crane mixed up in this.