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viola_dreamwalkI'd still love to hear from people on this post -- rec me an author, a fandom, community, journal, etc., you think I should be reading.
(And speaking of my slow reintroduction to fandom, etc., -- the LiveJournal ads appear to know where I had drinks last night, which is... creepy? Is this like a thing now?)
And, as promised here, fordelentyevox, a fun little Albus/June/Hayden ficlet from the Dreamwalk Blue universe.
(Previous fics in this same timeline are New Year's Eve, 1937 and Oxford, 1938)
August, 1938
For nearly eight months, June had successfully prevented Albus and Hayden from ever quite meeting, though she'd had a few close calls. She wasn't entirely sure just why it was so important to her that they not meet, but it was – rather desperately.
To date, it actually hadn't been that difficult to keep them apart. They hadn't known one another at school and had few social connections in common. With Albus in Oxford most of the year – memorizing the names of battlefields and kings or whatever one did there – it had been even easier than it might have been otherwise.
There was, however, one very dangerous element in the mix: Aberforth.
He and Hayden, of course, had been friendly at school. He and Albus, while not strictly speaking friendly, were bound together by accident of blood.
Ariadne had pulled out all the stops for Aberforth's 21st birthday, an entire weekend of festivities, culminating in a lavish lawn party on a rather lovely summer afternoon. So, June found herself, in the middle of a very good party, on what might very well be the nicest day of the summer, with both of the men in question watching her from opposite sides of the lawn.
She really needed a drink, or a cigarette, or a drink and cigarette. Possibly several.
She found herself wishing for a sudden and unseasonable rainstorm – better yet, hail – to bring the festivities to an immediate halt. She looked up – not a cloud in the sky.
Albus waved at her from where he stood with Aberforth and Ariadne, playing the gracious host. They'd hardly spoken all afternoon, which was probably for the best. He pointed in the direction of the house, though, indicating she should follow him.
“Your mother will have my head, if she thinks I'm distracting you from your guests,” June said, entering the parlor through the French doors to find him standing by the fireplace. “I'd hate to fall out of her good graces, too. Your father already blames me for you not taking that position with Gringotts.”
“Well, as you've no doubt noticed, my father isn't here – as usual.” He crossed the distance between them, his expression softening. “But I don't much care about that right now. I'm glad to see you.”
“It's good to see you, too, Albus,” she said, smiling herself. “I've missed you, you know, while you're off puttering about with dusty books like an old man.”
“There's a bit more to it than that,” he said. “I'm glad I did it, though. I'm glad you talked me into it.”
“I did nothing of the sort. You'd already made up your mind. I just encouraged you to stand up for what you really wanted.”
“And I'm thankful for that,” he said, taking another step toward her, standing closer than he normally would. “As a matter of fact, I don't know what I'd do without you.”
She resisted the sudden urge to take a step back. “Oh, you seem to be managing just fine without me at school,” she said, lightly.
“See here,” he said, appearing to come to some sort of decision. “I've been doing a lot of thinking at school – I mean, that's what one does there, isn't it?” He took a deep breath. She hadn't seen him this nervous since she'd helped him work up the nerve to tell his father he was going off to Oxford – with or without approval. “I've been thinking and- June...” He took her by the shoulders, gazing down at her with equal parts apprehension and determination in his expression. “We're not kids anymore, are we?”
Oh, dear. She really did need that drink.
“Albus-” she began, without a clue how to deal with this rather distressing turn of events. She looked into his eyes, very blue and earnest, and wasn't sure she'd be able to refuse him if he asked what she was afraid he was going to ask.
“Albus?” came a voice from beyond the French doors.
“That's your mother,” June said. They were still gazing at each other; he still had hold of her shoulders.
“It is.”
“I think you- I think you ought to go see what she wants.”
“It can wait.”
“Albus, there you are,” Ariadne said, throwing the French doors wide, then stopping and taking in the tableau in front of her. She raised an eyebrow, a gesture so like Albus that somehow it broke the spell for June.
“Well,” she said briskly, pulling away. “I am glad to see you, Albus.” Then, to Ariadne, “This is really a marvelous party. Aberforth must be thrilled. Thank you so much for hosting us all,” she said and fled.
She didn't see Albus again for another hour or so. It wasn't so much that she was actively avoiding him, she simply tried to stay away from anywhere on the lawn that he was likely to be at any given point. She was very successful. Avoiding Hayden, on the other hand, was a different story. He seemed to be everywhere at once – charming (both literally and figuratively) the spinster aunts by the fountain, enchanting (again) a cluster of Hogwarts-age girls by the cake table, reaching out and grabbing June by the hand as she walked by.
“Play a game with me?” he said. “How about croquet?”
“Hayden, not now.”
He released her. “Hmm, I suppose not. You seem to be playing a game of your own today. Do let me in on the rules when you have chance,” he said, and was off.
After successfully and rather ruthlessly defeating everyone at croquet, Hayden retired to an old stone bench with a gin martini and a ring of admirers. Seated in the midst of the girls, in their brightly-colored summer afternoon dresses, he rather gave the impression of a snake sunning itself in a garden of posies. He favored her with a heavy-lidded smile, and it only served to heighten the effect.
“There you are,” Albus said, close to her ear, and she actually jumped in surprise.
“Oh! Hello. I was wondering where you'd got to.” For a variety of reasons, but she didn't share that with him.
"You look lovely today," Albus said, handing her a glass of lemonade. “I didn't get a chance to tell you before.”
"I don't suppose there's any gin in this?" she said, watching, with what had to be rather impressive calm, as Hayden stood up, leaving a flock of disappointed girls in his wake, and headed straight for them.
"I'll fetch some for you," Albus said, and was gone again – just in time.
"You have yet," Hayden said, coming up to her and standing far too close, "to compliment me on my impressive victory on the croquet lawn."
"And you have yet," she said, turning to face him as Albus receded into the crowd, "to compliment me on my new dress."
"You look smashing, of course, darling." Then, "Who was that?"
"No one you'd be interested in meeting," she said.
"Wait a bit." He caught her by the arm. "Is that the dreaded childhood sweetheart? The one your mother not-at-all-subtly compares me to every time I come to collect you?"
She sighed. "Neither of you are my sweethearts."
He gave her his most shameless grin. "But you are rather sweet..." He waved a hand. “As to the other bit, that's only a matter of time.”
“For you, or for him?” she replied tartly.
“That I suppose, my darling, is entirely up to you.” He offered her his arm. “Come take a walk with me. We'll disappear for the better part of the afternoon and spark all sorts of scandalous rumors.”
“If you're going to soil my reputation, shouldn't I at least get something in return?”
He smiled again. “As I said, all a matter of time.”
“You are perfectly awful.”
“And you love me for it, admit it.”
It was true, he was one of the most interesting people she'd ever met. She wasn't a fool, though. She knew she had to keep him at a safe distance. He was a great friend, an even better partner in crime, and he certainly never let things get boring. What he wasn't was an ideal prospect for anything more, no matter how appealing he might occasionally be able to make it seem.
They rounded a corner of the house, Hayden still chattering on about croquet. Some of the younger Dumbledore cousins had smuggled a phonograph into the hedgerows and had set up an impromptu dance party, out of sight of the adults. Hayden looked positively thrilled.
"They're playing our song, darling," he said, taking her by the hand.
"We don't have a song!" she protested. He ignored her, though, pulling her into his arms and beginning a rather nice waltz. "Hayden, someone is going to see us. You'll cause a sensation..."
He looked delighted. "Oh, exactly what I wanted to do today!"
“Let me go,” she said, helplessly. "I don't want to waltz..."
"You'd rather the Continental, perhaps?"
“Hayden, stop it.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“Stop that.”
“Well,” said a familiar voice, “so this is where the real party is.” The birthday boy himself had arrived, with a rather fetching redhead on his arm. June recognized the girl from school but couldn't quite remember her name. “I think we got here just in time. Wouldn't you say, Evie?”
“Quite,” the girl said. “Though I would prefer something more fun to this boring old waltz.”
“Happy birthday, Aberforth,” June said, attempting to untangle herself from Hayden. “Many happy returns.”
“Hmm,” was all he said in reply, taking in the scene. He was, she had to admit, cleverer than he was often given credit for.
“Hayden,” Evie said, “come have a dance with me. It's been an absolute age since I saw you last.”
“My brother is looking for you,” Aberforth said pointedly to June, taking one of the younger cousins, giggling, by the hand and beginning to foxtrot.
June fled the scene, Hayden frowning at her over Evie's shoulder the whole way. Looking back at him, she nearly collided with a servant bearing a massive floral arrangement, then just barely avoided tripping over a pair of small children sprawled on the grass enjoying large lime ices. She turned her ankle, attempting not to step on them, and practically fell into Albus's arms.
“I seem to keep losing you today,” he said.
“Do you? I hadn't noticed?”
“We need to talk.” He took her hand in his, and started back toward the house. “Let's go find somewhere quiet, where we won't be interrupted for once.”
“Oh, Albus. Is now really the time?”
“Yes. We have to talk, and it has to be now...”
“Oh, no...” Hayden was headed toward them again, and it was becoming clear that he was doing it on purpose. “Not that way!” she said, feeling foolish, and pulled Albus into the rose garden.
“What?”
“Shush!” she said, holding her breath until she was sure Hayden had passed by.
"Why are we hiding in the rosebushes?"
“We- I- Oh, hell,” she said, and sat down on a nearby bench.
“June...” he said, and sat as well. “Is this about your infuriating friend? The one who keeps sending you post from Paris and Milan and southern Spain?”
“Albus...”
“I know it's not my business who writes to you, or who you see. I've no right, but – dash it all! Maybe I want that right,” he said, taking her hands in his.
“We've talked about this before,” she began, knowing it was hopeless. She recognized that determined look on his face.
“We have talked about it. We've talked and talked, and I'm tired of talking. I'm ready to do something about it.”
Oxford had changed him. He was more a man now than the boy he'd been when he left. He leaned in and, for one horrible moment, she thought he might kiss her.
“Say, June-” someone said from somewhere just beyond the rosebushes. It was Aberforth. “Say,” he said again, coming into view, “Mother is insisting that I have a lovely girl help me cut the cake – for the pictures, you know. And since you're the loveliest girl here, I thought I might impose...”
Albus gave him a very dark look. June, for her part, could have hugged him.
“Of course! I'm happy to help. Shall we go right now?” She jumped up and followed him out of the garden, afraid to look back at Albus. “Aberforth, I could kiss you,” she said, once they were out of earshot.
“You seem,” he said, dryly, “to have just about all you can handle in that department. So I doubt you'll mind if I pass?”
“Not a bit.”
They reached the table where the cake was displayed, and June looked up to see Albus make his way back into the crowd of birthday well-wishers. He was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Hayden, for his part, was front and center, with a fresh martini and a girl on each arm. He winked at her.
“You and Hayden seem quite friendly...” Aberforth observed, picking up a silver serving tray and checking his reflection in it.
“It isn't that way,” she said. “Frankly, I couldn't even imagine it. I adore him, of course, but he's a terrible scoundrel.”
“Not much like my brother, it's true.” He put the tray down.
Her hand shook a little as she picked up a very nice but obviously new silver cake knife. The Dumbledores were quite well-off, of course, but not old or established enough to have any family silver.
“Hayden's a bit of a bad lot,” he continued, “but he is my friend. And Albus... well, you know Albus.”
“I do, and that's the whole problem, isn't it?”
He took her hand in his, both of them holding the knife. “All right now, smile!” he said, and they cut the cake, to a sudden flurry of camera flashes.
“They're both terribly important to me, and I know they'll hate each other on sight.” She sighed, putting a slice of cake on a delicate china plate and passing it to Aberforth. It was lemon, she noticed, feeling suddenly hungry. She hadn't had an appetite all day until now. “I'd like to put that off as long as I possibly can.”
“You won't be able to stall forever, you know. My brother-”
“Is a perfect idiot sometimes.”
He chuckled, neatly slicing another piece of cake. “You won't get any argument from me there. But he loves you, you know, has since we were in short pants and you were in pigtails.”
“I love him, too, but-”
“I'm not saying you have to return the feelings. I'm not saying you have to do anything. Just that you ought to be careful, with both of them.”
She frowned, feeling more than a little miserable. His expression softened. “For now, though,” he said, pulling a chair out for her and handing her a plate, “stay here with me where it's safe. Have a piece of cake – it will do you good, you're pale as a sheet.” He left off slicing and serving the cake, and let the servants take over – but not before taking a very large slice for himself. He summoned his own chair and sat beside her. “Not to make a terrible pun,” he said, taking a bite of his cake, “but...”
“If you say that I'm trying to have my cake and eat it, too, I'll scream and slap you – and then tell the most terrible lies about your inappropriate advances.”
“I don't doubt it,” he said with a wry smile. “But all the slapping in the world won't stop it being true.”
(And speaking of my slow reintroduction to fandom, etc., -- the LiveJournal ads appear to know where I had drinks last night, which is... creepy? Is this like a thing now?)
And, as promised here, for
delentyevox, a fun little Albus/June/Hayden ficlet from the Dreamwalk Blue universe.(Previous fics in this same timeline are New Year's Eve, 1937 and Oxford, 1938)
August, 1938
For nearly eight months, June had successfully prevented Albus and Hayden from ever quite meeting, though she'd had a few close calls. She wasn't entirely sure just why it was so important to her that they not meet, but it was – rather desperately.
To date, it actually hadn't been that difficult to keep them apart. They hadn't known one another at school and had few social connections in common. With Albus in Oxford most of the year – memorizing the names of battlefields and kings or whatever one did there – it had been even easier than it might have been otherwise.
There was, however, one very dangerous element in the mix: Aberforth.
He and Hayden, of course, had been friendly at school. He and Albus, while not strictly speaking friendly, were bound together by accident of blood.
Ariadne had pulled out all the stops for Aberforth's 21st birthday, an entire weekend of festivities, culminating in a lavish lawn party on a rather lovely summer afternoon. So, June found herself, in the middle of a very good party, on what might very well be the nicest day of the summer, with both of the men in question watching her from opposite sides of the lawn.
She really needed a drink, or a cigarette, or a drink and cigarette. Possibly several.
She found herself wishing for a sudden and unseasonable rainstorm – better yet, hail – to bring the festivities to an immediate halt. She looked up – not a cloud in the sky.
Albus waved at her from where he stood with Aberforth and Ariadne, playing the gracious host. They'd hardly spoken all afternoon, which was probably for the best. He pointed in the direction of the house, though, indicating she should follow him.
“Your mother will have my head, if she thinks I'm distracting you from your guests,” June said, entering the parlor through the French doors to find him standing by the fireplace. “I'd hate to fall out of her good graces, too. Your father already blames me for you not taking that position with Gringotts.”
“Well, as you've no doubt noticed, my father isn't here – as usual.” He crossed the distance between them, his expression softening. “But I don't much care about that right now. I'm glad to see you.”
“It's good to see you, too, Albus,” she said, smiling herself. “I've missed you, you know, while you're off puttering about with dusty books like an old man.”
“There's a bit more to it than that,” he said. “I'm glad I did it, though. I'm glad you talked me into it.”
“I did nothing of the sort. You'd already made up your mind. I just encouraged you to stand up for what you really wanted.”
“And I'm thankful for that,” he said, taking another step toward her, standing closer than he normally would. “As a matter of fact, I don't know what I'd do without you.”
She resisted the sudden urge to take a step back. “Oh, you seem to be managing just fine without me at school,” she said, lightly.
“See here,” he said, appearing to come to some sort of decision. “I've been doing a lot of thinking at school – I mean, that's what one does there, isn't it?” He took a deep breath. She hadn't seen him this nervous since she'd helped him work up the nerve to tell his father he was going off to Oxford – with or without approval. “I've been thinking and- June...” He took her by the shoulders, gazing down at her with equal parts apprehension and determination in his expression. “We're not kids anymore, are we?”
Oh, dear. She really did need that drink.
“Albus-” she began, without a clue how to deal with this rather distressing turn of events. She looked into his eyes, very blue and earnest, and wasn't sure she'd be able to refuse him if he asked what she was afraid he was going to ask.
“Albus?” came a voice from beyond the French doors.
“That's your mother,” June said. They were still gazing at each other; he still had hold of her shoulders.
“It is.”
“I think you- I think you ought to go see what she wants.”
“It can wait.”
“Albus, there you are,” Ariadne said, throwing the French doors wide, then stopping and taking in the tableau in front of her. She raised an eyebrow, a gesture so like Albus that somehow it broke the spell for June.
“Well,” she said briskly, pulling away. “I am glad to see you, Albus.” Then, to Ariadne, “This is really a marvelous party. Aberforth must be thrilled. Thank you so much for hosting us all,” she said and fled.
She didn't see Albus again for another hour or so. It wasn't so much that she was actively avoiding him, she simply tried to stay away from anywhere on the lawn that he was likely to be at any given point. She was very successful. Avoiding Hayden, on the other hand, was a different story. He seemed to be everywhere at once – charming (both literally and figuratively) the spinster aunts by the fountain, enchanting (again) a cluster of Hogwarts-age girls by the cake table, reaching out and grabbing June by the hand as she walked by.
“Play a game with me?” he said. “How about croquet?”
“Hayden, not now.”
He released her. “Hmm, I suppose not. You seem to be playing a game of your own today. Do let me in on the rules when you have chance,” he said, and was off.
After successfully and rather ruthlessly defeating everyone at croquet, Hayden retired to an old stone bench with a gin martini and a ring of admirers. Seated in the midst of the girls, in their brightly-colored summer afternoon dresses, he rather gave the impression of a snake sunning itself in a garden of posies. He favored her with a heavy-lidded smile, and it only served to heighten the effect.
“There you are,” Albus said, close to her ear, and she actually jumped in surprise.
“Oh! Hello. I was wondering where you'd got to.” For a variety of reasons, but she didn't share that with him.
"You look lovely today," Albus said, handing her a glass of lemonade. “I didn't get a chance to tell you before.”
"I don't suppose there's any gin in this?" she said, watching, with what had to be rather impressive calm, as Hayden stood up, leaving a flock of disappointed girls in his wake, and headed straight for them.
"I'll fetch some for you," Albus said, and was gone again – just in time.
"You have yet," Hayden said, coming up to her and standing far too close, "to compliment me on my impressive victory on the croquet lawn."
"And you have yet," she said, turning to face him as Albus receded into the crowd, "to compliment me on my new dress."
"You look smashing, of course, darling." Then, "Who was that?"
"No one you'd be interested in meeting," she said.
"Wait a bit." He caught her by the arm. "Is that the dreaded childhood sweetheart? The one your mother not-at-all-subtly compares me to every time I come to collect you?"
She sighed. "Neither of you are my sweethearts."
He gave her his most shameless grin. "But you are rather sweet..." He waved a hand. “As to the other bit, that's only a matter of time.”
“For you, or for him?” she replied tartly.
“That I suppose, my darling, is entirely up to you.” He offered her his arm. “Come take a walk with me. We'll disappear for the better part of the afternoon and spark all sorts of scandalous rumors.”
“If you're going to soil my reputation, shouldn't I at least get something in return?”
He smiled again. “As I said, all a matter of time.”
“You are perfectly awful.”
“And you love me for it, admit it.”
It was true, he was one of the most interesting people she'd ever met. She wasn't a fool, though. She knew she had to keep him at a safe distance. He was a great friend, an even better partner in crime, and he certainly never let things get boring. What he wasn't was an ideal prospect for anything more, no matter how appealing he might occasionally be able to make it seem.
They rounded a corner of the house, Hayden still chattering on about croquet. Some of the younger Dumbledore cousins had smuggled a phonograph into the hedgerows and had set up an impromptu dance party, out of sight of the adults. Hayden looked positively thrilled.
"They're playing our song, darling," he said, taking her by the hand.
"We don't have a song!" she protested. He ignored her, though, pulling her into his arms and beginning a rather nice waltz. "Hayden, someone is going to see us. You'll cause a sensation..."
He looked delighted. "Oh, exactly what I wanted to do today!"
“Let me go,” she said, helplessly. "I don't want to waltz..."
"You'd rather the Continental, perhaps?"
“Hayden, stop it.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“Stop that.”
“Well,” said a familiar voice, “so this is where the real party is.” The birthday boy himself had arrived, with a rather fetching redhead on his arm. June recognized the girl from school but couldn't quite remember her name. “I think we got here just in time. Wouldn't you say, Evie?”
“Quite,” the girl said. “Though I would prefer something more fun to this boring old waltz.”
“Happy birthday, Aberforth,” June said, attempting to untangle herself from Hayden. “Many happy returns.”
“Hmm,” was all he said in reply, taking in the scene. He was, she had to admit, cleverer than he was often given credit for.
“Hayden,” Evie said, “come have a dance with me. It's been an absolute age since I saw you last.”
“My brother is looking for you,” Aberforth said pointedly to June, taking one of the younger cousins, giggling, by the hand and beginning to foxtrot.
June fled the scene, Hayden frowning at her over Evie's shoulder the whole way. Looking back at him, she nearly collided with a servant bearing a massive floral arrangement, then just barely avoided tripping over a pair of small children sprawled on the grass enjoying large lime ices. She turned her ankle, attempting not to step on them, and practically fell into Albus's arms.
“I seem to keep losing you today,” he said.
“Do you? I hadn't noticed?”
“We need to talk.” He took her hand in his, and started back toward the house. “Let's go find somewhere quiet, where we won't be interrupted for once.”
“Oh, Albus. Is now really the time?”
“Yes. We have to talk, and it has to be now...”
“Oh, no...” Hayden was headed toward them again, and it was becoming clear that he was doing it on purpose. “Not that way!” she said, feeling foolish, and pulled Albus into the rose garden.
“What?”
“Shush!” she said, holding her breath until she was sure Hayden had passed by.
"Why are we hiding in the rosebushes?"
“We- I- Oh, hell,” she said, and sat down on a nearby bench.
“June...” he said, and sat as well. “Is this about your infuriating friend? The one who keeps sending you post from Paris and Milan and southern Spain?”
“Albus...”
“I know it's not my business who writes to you, or who you see. I've no right, but – dash it all! Maybe I want that right,” he said, taking her hands in his.
“We've talked about this before,” she began, knowing it was hopeless. She recognized that determined look on his face.
“We have talked about it. We've talked and talked, and I'm tired of talking. I'm ready to do something about it.”
Oxford had changed him. He was more a man now than the boy he'd been when he left. He leaned in and, for one horrible moment, she thought he might kiss her.
“Say, June-” someone said from somewhere just beyond the rosebushes. It was Aberforth. “Say,” he said again, coming into view, “Mother is insisting that I have a lovely girl help me cut the cake – for the pictures, you know. And since you're the loveliest girl here, I thought I might impose...”
Albus gave him a very dark look. June, for her part, could have hugged him.
“Of course! I'm happy to help. Shall we go right now?” She jumped up and followed him out of the garden, afraid to look back at Albus. “Aberforth, I could kiss you,” she said, once they were out of earshot.
“You seem,” he said, dryly, “to have just about all you can handle in that department. So I doubt you'll mind if I pass?”
“Not a bit.”
They reached the table where the cake was displayed, and June looked up to see Albus make his way back into the crowd of birthday well-wishers. He was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Hayden, for his part, was front and center, with a fresh martini and a girl on each arm. He winked at her.
“You and Hayden seem quite friendly...” Aberforth observed, picking up a silver serving tray and checking his reflection in it.
“It isn't that way,” she said. “Frankly, I couldn't even imagine it. I adore him, of course, but he's a terrible scoundrel.”
“Not much like my brother, it's true.” He put the tray down.
Her hand shook a little as she picked up a very nice but obviously new silver cake knife. The Dumbledores were quite well-off, of course, but not old or established enough to have any family silver.
“Hayden's a bit of a bad lot,” he continued, “but he is my friend. And Albus... well, you know Albus.”
“I do, and that's the whole problem, isn't it?”
He took her hand in his, both of them holding the knife. “All right now, smile!” he said, and they cut the cake, to a sudden flurry of camera flashes.
“They're both terribly important to me, and I know they'll hate each other on sight.” She sighed, putting a slice of cake on a delicate china plate and passing it to Aberforth. It was lemon, she noticed, feeling suddenly hungry. She hadn't had an appetite all day until now. “I'd like to put that off as long as I possibly can.”
“You won't be able to stall forever, you know. My brother-”
“Is a perfect idiot sometimes.”
He chuckled, neatly slicing another piece of cake. “You won't get any argument from me there. But he loves you, you know, has since we were in short pants and you were in pigtails.”
“I love him, too, but-”
“I'm not saying you have to return the feelings. I'm not saying you have to do anything. Just that you ought to be careful, with both of them.”
She frowned, feeling more than a little miserable. His expression softened. “For now, though,” he said, pulling a chair out for her and handing her a plate, “stay here with me where it's safe. Have a piece of cake – it will do you good, you're pale as a sheet.” He left off slicing and serving the cake, and let the servants take over – but not before taking a very large slice for himself. He summoned his own chair and sat beside her. “Not to make a terrible pun,” he said, taking a bite of his cake, “but...”
“If you say that I'm trying to have my cake and eat it, too, I'll scream and slap you – and then tell the most terrible lies about your inappropriate advances.”
“I don't doubt it,” he said with a wry smile. “But all the slapping in the world won't stop it being true.”