Promised

Let Us Go On

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Clouds scuttled in from the west, smoky, brushing o'er mountain crags. Streamlined gales, heavy, smattering water droplets, wall shaking thunder.

Hervath tossed the sash back, hurling sherbet cans to the winds as they galloped past, tugging a bridle chain as it clattered the panes, "Mind the gutter's this time! Mrs. Ramstein'll tear your ears off if you break them again."

Whickering whinnies, pwca's tossing their heads, fighting for the last sherbet, hooves stamping tempo with hailstones.

"Heh, guess I'll get the hammer and nails ready."

A whistle, drawn and baleful, trains at this hour? Eleven thirty was awfully late, it must've been the nine, lost on the tracks in the rain.

Hope Mrs. Ramstein had enough bedding ready.

Uncovering the lamp, picking a hand-broom, always with the dust these colts, never flower petals. The magazines were all over the place, the fiction section totaled.

Twinkling, footsteps, sounds of shaking cloth, just a little peek here, ahhh taking the water out his coat, a polite one.

"Excuse me? Hello! Is there Anyone here? I saw the light in the window, figured it would be fine to come in. I won't take up much of your time. I'm just seeking shelter from the storm awhile."

Tacking the books back to order, spread horizontally atop each other, "I'll be there in a moment. Browse around if you wish. Storm came up so suddenly I hadn't had time to close the windows."

Glass clicked, racks rattled, going for a cloth selection then?

"I was sleeping so peacefully on the train, couldn't believe how bad it got. Y'all get storms like this often?"

Bending, collecting dust to the pan, eyeing the mud splattered pants, fancy dress shoes, briefcase...businessman? No, too much practicality in those clothes.

"Tons. Mountain weather is unpredictable."

A series of kipping chuckles, "I know it! I was telling mother before I left I'd need three pairs of goulashes for this trip. She called me crazy. But she's never lived in the middle of mountains before."

Rounding the clock assortment, scratching a cuckoo's wing, Hervath came face to tassel, his guest piling more clothes to his arms, "The train loose your luggage?"

Please say yes. One didn't amass this much selection from catalogues. No stock currently held, was old English farmhand. It'd pair well to the Welsh night gown. Some alterations to fit. Need to accentuate the curves for charm after all! T'was what sold merchandise.

"No, I've my things. I left them on the entryway, didn't want to clog your isles," Mounds of curls preceded a square face, eyes milky brown, and dimples deep enough to hold coins, "These are gifts for a dear one back home. I'm having such terrible time deciding. Can I ask for your help?"

Excellent. Time to shillllll~~ Pushing towards the counter, "I'd be delighted! I love thoughtful customers. They have the best stories."

Sock covered hand extended from the mass, "Where are my manners. Edward, Eddy if you would, Highstone."

Hopping to the counter, shifting through coats, socks, and blazers, "Pleased to treat you. Who're you looking for something for?"

Elbows pressed to the glass, head propping on folded hand, "His name is Augur. He's a old schoolmate of mine."

An eyebrow raise, reaching for the teapot, lavender and orange blend tonight, "This Augur partial to anything?"

"He's the type satisfied with everything. Always been that way ever since I've known him."