Griff smelled bacon. That in itself wasn’t strange. Bacon wasn’t exactly uncommon in London. But this wasn’t just bacon, this was bacon that someone made for him. Or too share with him. Now that was something rare. Definitely something worth getting out of bed for. His room, formerly Ada’s, was still spartan with little more than a bed and an ancient wardrobe that had probably been in the room since the building was constructed. Dressing quickly he strolled into the main room eyes searching for Cosette. There was a girl you could just… bask in.
Unfortunately she wasn’t about. Though the sour look Ada was giving him were a clear sign that she knew he’d been trying to take a gander of the fairest sister of them all. “Bacon?” Griff asked hoping to distract the stormy daughter of Jupiter before her irritation had a chance to properly swell into a rage.
“It’s in the kitchen. Fair warning, I burned it.” She said, going back to her knitting. He nodded maneuvering himself toward the kitchen.
“So,” he said in deliberately casual tone, “where’s your sister?”
“Church.” Her flat tone letting him know that she saw through his not subtle enough ruse.
“What, really?” That was interesting. Christianity and Scions… well, not much mixing.
“She likes to volunteer in the soup kitchen.” Ada grumbled.
“Oh. Why didn’t you go with her?”
She looked up at him with a surprised look on her face. Almost startled. “I look like the sort of girl who works in a soup kitchen?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking the other armchair, “you took me in after all.”
“Well, you see, it’s like…” She babbled for a second before getting real interested in her needlework. Actually now that he was paying attention to her, it was a whole production. On the floor was a basket full of small balls of yarn. One of her feet held a ball aloft, another kneaded the string up to her hands which nearly blurred as they raced about their task.
“You bloody mind?” She thundered not looking up at him, “I’m working here. Go gallivant around town or something.”
“I didn’t know you could knit.” He offered hoping she’d volley it into a conversation. He’d had plenty of days full of lonely gallivanting about towns. Far better to hang about and chat for a bit.
“Well I sodding can. Make socks and coats and such for a little extra money. I usually only do it on my days off. Probably why you haven’t seen me at it yet.”
“I mean it’s not like it’s my hobby or anything. I don’t really like it.”
“I do interesting things… like I can paint. Only it’s kind of expensive you know. The paints.”
“And I can play seven instruments. Violin, cello, flute, harpsicord, piano, bagpipes, and the organ. We had lots of music classes at the asylum. Of course I can’t afford any of them.”
“I sing sometimes, dance too, I mean, Cosette’s a better singer and dancer than I am, but I do both.”
“Actually I write music every now and again. Actually I just composed one the other day about a knight who keeps falling off a tower.”
“You know look at the time, I better let you get back to work. Plenty of gallivanting to do!”
“Wait, I haven’t told you about my sketchbook yet!”