Fetch and Carry (open)

[Dante Grixis]

Dante smiled. It was nice to hear that someone though he was honorable. He listened to her question and answered directly. "You didn't do anything wrong to me, nor would I be getting paid to kill you." He said. "That and you're to pretty to kill," He added with a charming tone. "And since when does killing two assailants in the street not count as dangerous?" He asked with a small chuckle.

He popped the chair out from under the door knob and sat on the chair once again. He rested his arms on the table and looked across to Grace. He wondered if he should escort her home but he waited to ask until she wanted to leave. He had no pressing engagements elsewhere and he was actually enjoying the company. Grace was different than the other people he had met in Camelot, she wasn't a criminal or a mage and was no longer nobility. She didn't fit into any set category, and the fact she was talking to him was intriguing.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Eternally grateful that Dante was moving and had circled her before he could see her blush, Grace looked to the floor to recompose herself. She had been called pretty many times in court.... but that had seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, she flushed warmly at the compliment.... though she was starting to wonder if Dante was just toying with her.

"Well, yes, that was dangerous. But not dangerous to me." With no hesitation, Grace seated herself again. "Let me ask you this, Dante, and tell me true. And please don't laugh." She raised a finger and pointed to herself. "What in the world is there about me that makes people want to.... to aid me when all reason defies it?" This question had perplexed her a long time with Richard and now with Dante. Why should Richard put his life on hold to follow her about, protecting her, aiding her? And now this man, a perfect stranger before today, was doing the same thing.

Grace made a face. "Do I have a 'victim' look about me? Do I remind everyone of their little sister? Or a lost puppy?"

[Dante Grixis]

Dante considered this for a moment before answering. Why did he protect her? Because the world was cruel to her? Because she looked so helpless? Because she was like a little girl? He saw that it was a combination of the three.

"People help you because you need it. You might not be standing here today if it wasn't for the help of others, and nobody wants such an innocent girls blood on their hands." He replied and shrugged a little. It did seem to defy reason, but sometimes there was no reason for things, they just happened. This must be one of those things where it couldn't be explained but it was just the way it was. Perhaps whatever god watched over them saw that Grace needed to be saved, and everyone else was just a tool to his will.

[Grace de Beaumont]

"It is because of pity then," Grace whispered, her heart sinking. "As I suspected." Rising, Grace moved absently about the large kitchen, fingers searching for supplies but her mind far away. At one point, she caught sight of her reflection in a copper pan hanging on the wall and stopped. Her crown of golden hair glimmered in the candle-light, creamy pale skin, wide eyes, expressive mouth. A finger raised to touch a smudge of dirt on her cheek, trying to smooth it away. Is this all I am? A pretty package to appeal to the kindness of strangers? How long can I rely on their help -- for as long as this face remains young and pretty? A slip of cold dread crept up the girl's spine. What happens after that, after I grow old and am no longer beautiful?

After a time, Grace returned to Dante and with a nod of her head, held out a small bundle wrapped in cloth to the seated man. "It's not much, just some cheese, dried meat .... bread. It's fresh though. A way for me to say 'thank-you'." She would pay Hilda later.

Mustering a half-smile, Grace reached her hand forward, tracing the length of his scar with her finger. "Is that how you got this? Rescuing another damsel in distress?" Before he could answer, she turned away and went to the door. A listen, and Grace added, "Do you think it is safe to leave yet?"

[Dante Grixis]

Dante watched as Grace walked around the room. He felt bad for her. She seemed very depressed and he found himself wishing that he had lied to her to spare her feelings. He thanked her and opened the bundle and looked inside. It was a small amount of food but it would be enough for a meal or two and he was truly thankful.

He stared her in the eyes as she traced his scar. Physical human contact was not something he got much of and he enjoy the brief soft touch of her hand. He smiled as she walked away and shook his head. "No, nothing so noble." He replied quietly as he turned to face her.

He rose and put his ear to the door and was met with dead silence. The streets were quiet and most likely empty. He turned back to Grace. "I would say that is quite safe to leave. Would you like me to escort you home, Grace?" He asked as he pulled his cloak back on and flung the hood over his head.

[Grace de Beaumont]

When Dante had drawn on his cloak, Grace did the same and moved quickly to the door. "I would like that," she answered quietly. "If you would be so kind." She blew out the candle and the bakery kitchen was plunged into darkness.

Grace moved to the door and was on the point of stepping into the alley when a wave of terror clenched her stomach. Dante had voiced his opinion that the attack on her person had been no random thing. That meant she had been targeted.... and it also meant that because she was still alive, she wasn't out of danger. Anyone could still be lurking out there, waiting to do the job. Grace clutched the folds of her cloak, her knees beginning to shake as she stepped forward.

Gulping past a dry mouth, Grace unashamedly reached for the shadow that was Dante, clutching tightly on his arm. Glad he couldn't see her face in the darkness. "The White Dragon Inn," she whispered, giving the location of her quarters. She gripped him tighter, her eyes wide in near blindness searching the shadows. "Are y-you sure it's s-safe?"

[Dante Grixis]

Dante resisted the urge to pull back from Grace's tight grip. The night was cold and his breath escaped in plumes of white. She gently put a hand on Grace's shoulder. "I'm sure its safe." He said reassuringly. He led her down the dark, quiet streets, past the bloodstains from earlier, and down the street. His eyes were constantly scanning the side streets for people but continually saw none.

His eyes were trained to see in darkness and the soft moonlight helped. After a long silent walk they arrived at the White Dragon Inn. He led her inside where there were a few patrons drinking quietly at the bar portion of the inn. He turned to Grace. "You going to be alright?"

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace pushed the hood of her cloak back and cautiously glanced about the inn's great-room. She exhaled in relief; all were previously known to her. "Yes," she breathed, a smile appearing. "Yes. I shall be fine now."

Turning back to face Dante, Grace opened her mouth, then closed it again. What did one say to someone who had saved your life? "Dante, I.... words are failing me. I owe you so much." Impulsively, she took his hand, holding it between hers. Speaking formally, Grace used words tutored by her long-dead mother and her court ways, but her heart was in her eyes. "I thank you, Dante Grixis, for your act of bravery, your skill, and your gentlemanly manners to one who would have been lost. You can always count me as your friend."

Grace tried to give Dante her prettiest smile, but she was afraid that the night's fatigues and her ragamuffin state probably made her look foolish.

[Dante Grixis]

Dante smiled back at Grace. She looked tired and ready to go to bed. It had been a stressful night for her, for him just another day. He half bowed to her and gently kissed the hand that was holding his. "No thanks needed Miss Grace." He said with a charming tone.

He stood straight again and gently took his hand back from her. He smiled softly. "I hope that we will meet again, under more favorable circumstances." He put one foot behind the other and spun in an about-face motion and strode to the door. His hand on the handle he turned his head and said "Goodnight Grace."

Once out on the streets again he leaned against the wall next to the door for almost half an hour until he heard the owner lock the door. He waited another moment then slowly made his way home recalling the events of the evening.

[Grace de Beaumont]

"Goodnight, Dante." Grace finally forced herself to turn away, walking carefully across the inn lest she do something mortifying like trip on her skirts. The skin on her hand tingled where his lips had touched.

At the doorway to the stairs, Grace glanced once over her shoulder, hopeful, but Dante was gone. Sighing, she turned away to climb the three stories to her room, curious as to why she should feel so fluttery with excitement, and yet so very sad at the same time.