The blood wasn’t his. Doctors were expensive. He humored her anyway.

“Perhaps that would be best,” he answered, eyes on his wrapped hand.

He was still holding the grisly, broken wine glass, and looked about for a place to put it. That couple was out, at least. He wasn’t worried about them – she had only seen them once, after all.

Little did he know.

He had second thoughts about getting a doctor involved, and so he wiped his hand as dry as the formerly stark-white handkerchief could get it.

“Ah, that was his,” he said simply.

No cut, and he suspected the swelling would go down with time. Once upon a time he might have smoked some opium for it, but he rather needed his senses about him.

As his sister tried to give him some comfort another figure came to them through the crowd.

"Ah, hello again.." Elijah said with some slight surprise. He looked at the scene, and swept his eyes around the area to see if the others were still there but they appeared to be long gone. "Well, I might as well take more testimony." He wasn't sure there would be any report if they had left. Aslan looked definitely a mess, but he didn't see any injury.

"So, could you explain to me what happened? Did you actually attack someone?" It wasn't meant to sound surprised or insulting. He thought of the man before him as brilliant and under appreciated. He took out his book to write things down and his head turned as it seemed like the man's sister was about to speak. Nisa opened her mouth but then seemed uncertain and looked towards her brother with large eyes, patiently waiting for him to speak first.

Rage. Horror. Grief. Regret. All of these, he tucked as small as they could get and locked them away. What remained was a carefully carved puppet, strings invisible against his sister’s backdrop.

Aslan made an uncomfortable sound at the back of his throat. That came naturally. It might have been the most honest syllable in his entire vocabulary these days.

“He jumped at me, and …” Aslan raised his broken glass with an exasperated look. “It got messy. I apologize.”

Technically true.

Elijah nodded and looked around as he wrote it down. He gave the man a very concerned but sympathetic look. "Do not apologize. You have every right to defend yourself and your sister.'He tried to give him a reassuring smile and took more notes of the scene and spoke briefly to a few witnesses. He wasn't particularly worried, if there was some questions to ask later, he knew where to find the man. He also trusted Aslan as an honest hard working detective.

After getting a few testimonies he walked back over. "Alright, I have some things and I'll try to locate the ones who fled. I might not be able to. You know how this goes, though I'm not worried about it too much. Just don't leave town or anything for a short while. If I need something I'll come and ask." He put the book away and patted his shoulder briefly.

"Are you both alright? Certain neither are injured?" He looked from him to Nisa who only shook her head then back to him.

In his ideal world, this was swept under the rug. Nisa’s temper cooled, the fellow’s wounds were superficial, and they all had the embarrassing realization that this whole thing was more trouble than it was worth.

“Who are they?”
“They look familiar...”

In an ideal world, his father was still alive. They still kept shop in York. He introduced a nice girl to his sister and father both. Maybe even a nice boy; his father wouldn’t have been thrilled, but he had griped about not enough men to do the heavy lifting. Most importantly: they didn’t disappear. They never disappeared.

That was not this world.

That was not this world, and that was why he brought his hand to his sore cheek with eyes and ears all around. Why he pressed it, let himself cringe, and then drew both hands to his stomach to carelessly prod. That drew an involuntary wretch. He cleared his throat before answering.

“Some tea should clear it up,” he said simply.

And if Nisa laced it? So be it.

Nisa seemed to be in agreement as she held his arm. Elijah was looking at his notepad to double check his writing. He looked up at Aslan and nodded. A considerate tone in his voice as he spoke, "Yeah, this has been quite a lot of excitement. You both go home and rest. I hope you recover, and I'll talk to you soon. Hopefully it is worse than it looks."

His eyes dropped slowly to the broken bottle but said nothing. The constable would deal with everything once in a while. "We'll get this cleaned up. I mean it though, take it easy. You work quite a lot." He knew that and was concerned for the man's health. Despite not being seriously injured, he was looking rather pale.

Aslan put his other hand on her shoulder, numb. Sometimes he bought the act; other times, he just accepted it. It was hard to stay angry at a storm for blowing things over. The storm had calmed, and that was all he dared silently ask.

“I’ll be right as rain before the next shower,” Aslan assured, apparently to Crane.

And if he was thundering inside? That, too, would pass.

He shook his head at Crane’s concern.

“It’s a pleasure.”

External betrayals were easier to deal with.

Since the constable was letting them go, she would not risk standing around in such a pathetic state. With a few small delicate tears dotting her cheeks, she pulled up her handkerchief to wipe her eyes but recoiled slightly to see it covered in shades of pink and red. Giving Aslan a shy look before glancing around, noticing others watching just as she'd expected.

"Let's go home, please. I don't wish to be seen like this a moment longer and you should wrap your hand. You hit him so hard." She offered and tried to guide him away.

It was only when she was certain they wouldn't be heard that she looked at her brother who had been wonderfully born to meet her eye level, "you have a busy day tomorrow, don't you ?" She looked innocent but the words unspoken were clear.

She wanted him out of the house in case that man did come for his money or more.

As expected, Aslan offered no resistance when Nisa turned him the direction she wished.

“Of course. You’ve been through so much tonight, Nisa.”

Once upon a time, he had meant similar words. This night, as they had so many nights since their father’s hanging … they rung hollow. Recitations from a man that used to walk the earth instead of just haunt it.

When Nisa caught his eye as easily as a mosquito to the face, Aslan yet again considered the merits of lifted shoes for men just to retain that merciful bit of distance they had once the shoes came off. His gaze lingered, then drifted far ahead of them. His arm dropped from her, hands clasped in front of himself with a bowed head.

“Quite. I’m sorry, Nisa, but I fear I won’t be home until after dinner.”

Yet another rehearsed line, for an incredibly familiar situation. If he grieved every impending victim, there would be rivers with his name on them.

Nisa looked down timidly as she walked from the ball, a figure of shyness and embarrassment by the scene caused by the other man most certainly in anyone's opinion! As soon as they stepped out of the home, she hugged his arm just slightly. "Thank you, Aslan. You will be missed but you are so very busy and important. I can not keep you all to myself."

As they walked down the pathway to get a cab home perhaps, she eyed his clothes and lightly flicked at a sleeve. "Make sure you change as soon as we get home. It is a gift we have such a talented maid. She'll get rid of these blood stains in no time." She smiled as she thought the woman definitely had enough practice.