#anywhere

"Pull over and give me your location. Are you at Carthage? Oh god you're already there... I took too long"

"Just got there, yeah... pulling over."

"I think his magic wore off.'

The patrol car follows them to the shoulder and the figure - looks like a lady, but TALL... strides confidently up to tap at the driver's window.

"License and Registration, please." Casual, almost bored in the tone that officers get after a few years on duty. A badge shows Village of Carthage PD, and the nametag reads Off. Marshall.

The phone goes quiet, though it doees not end the call

Adam gives her their location.

As the troll officer glances through the car, kenning.

While he gets his stuff. He rolls down the window and smiles. "Good evening." He offers his papers.

A flashlight (because we forgot it was nighttime now) shines into the backseat, checking for passengers. She glances over the paperwork almost seeming bored. "We don't often get visitors, especially past curfew during stay at home. Where are you headed?" And her attention focuses on the backseat. "You there... hey, look up so I can see you." Polite, but firm.

"Carthage." Adam answers honestly. "Ma'am."

"And your business here?" Connor hesitates, but it's a troll, and he knows they can be trusted. He pulls off his hood, exhaling in relief to get some freedom from the stench he soaked it in. His ears spring free, one up and one down.

"Uh. I'm on a mission."

"I'm here to see Lord Aiden." Connor pipes up.

The troll raises a brow at the pooka, and gives the mortal in the front seat scarcely any more attention. She hands back the license and registration.

"Who are you, and what business have you with Silverwolf?" A flicker at Adam again. "Have your retainer tell us if you need to."

And the pooka lies trip his tongue. "I'm.. Buddy, most of the time, but I'm supposed to be a boy, and have a boy's name, and it's Lowell, at least when someone is looking at the tail of it?"

Adam looks utterly perplexed and just takes his ID back silently.

The officer steps back. "Wait here." She has a quick conversation on her radio, just out of earshot. And then, "We'll go to the main house. Follow me."

Getting into the patrol car, she pulls ahead, waiting for the car to follow before going down the road.

Adam pulls out carefully to follow the cop car. "Connor what the ffff..... hell is going on???"

He is stripping out of the hoodie - still cautious, they are still in a Mortal town, but it's dark, and the hoodie is SMELLY. "We're going to visit my father." He says, with a grin. "You will like it! You like sidhe too."

The phone says "Adam, be careful. This isn't a friendly court"

"You don't know him." Connor insists. "This will be okay." A pause. "I'm sure of it."

They drive through 'downtown', if the village can be called that. Even lit by streetlights, it looks quaint and quiet, every corner a postcard.

Turning off the main thoroughfare, they drive away from the center of town, leaving the filigreed stretlamps behind for a twisting country road, and around a corner, what could best be described as a mansion, or perhaps a manor house. Sprawling across land with no direct neighbors, windows cheerily lit.

"Connor... I... I'll make sure you'll right" And then the phone hangs up.

The patrol car flashes it's lights as it passes a guard patrolling and is waved on, pulling up before the main entryway. Officer Marshall steps back over to stand next to Adam's car, waiting for them to exit.

As the dynamic duo exits the car, the troll stands stalwart to ensure that there is no funny business, escorting them to the door which is opened by a shortish woman in no-nonsense, practical clothing, but with an accent of black and silver to reflect the house's livery.

"Danica, what ARE you doing here at such an hour? And what IS that smell?" A hand on her hips as she gives the boys a look rather like she's examining a spot of mess on her clean counter.

"Visitors, Steward. They're here for the Baron." She says shortly. "Can I leave them in your care?"

But the steward is already leading them into the house - and stops, staring at Connor. "Well, if he isn't just the spittin' image of her..." A glance to the officer, and she gestures, shoo shoo. "Off with you, back to work. And you bring your sister by after your shift, you know I need you to taste test some of these midsummer recipes."

The troll doesn't break her stalwart look, but gives the steward a nod. "Wouldn't miss it, Miss Marigold." And returned to her patrol, as the boggan ushers the boys in.

Adam walks protectively with Connor.

Connor reaches over to take Adam's hand, if it's not pulled away - he seems shy, but excited, his ears pricked attentively and his tail gives a cautious wag.

Inside, the manor house - or mansion, is opulently furnished. They pass antique furnishings, filigreed mirrors. Tables display figurines or vases - here a hawk cunningly wrought in silver, wings spread, there a carved horse rearing. The walls show artwork - various styles, but most showcasing a similar theme... focusing on a lovely woman, fair of skin and with long dark hair, and deep, expressive eyes - and in some of the more realistically styled paintings, it becomes evident how much she resembles Connor... or rather, he resembles her, for all that she is, at least as depicted, mortal. And, absent of any furry ears.

A tug on the hand, and he whispers up to Adam, "That's someone's Mama." Quiet, reverently. "Isn't she the prettiest you've ever seen?"

"Yeah, kid." Adam agrees, and gives h8s hand a squeeze. "She is."

They are ushered first to an elegant bath suite and strongly encouraged to use the facilities to bath and freshen up. As they do so, Connor (and Adam's, if he takes a bath or shower) previous clothes are spirited away, and left are fresh things of the approximate right size, though perhaps showing fresh stitchwork from a clever-handed boggan. If Adam does not choose to bathe, a fresh outfit is still provided, should he choose to wear it.

Connor certainly NEEDS, and for once, does not complain, about the shower he takes, washing away the vestiges of his fuddle and trickery. "See, I knew if I was stinky enough, no one would look too closely." An irascible grin - he does not see at all chastened.

A smart retainer's suit for Adam - slacks, socks, a black silk button up shirt with silver buttons - real silver! And a similar outfit for Connor, though the shirt has some frills, and his belt has a filigreed buckle with a horse on it - though his treasure, the leather collar is cleaned, the tag polished, and returned to him as well.

"I apologize, young sir, that we didn't have appropriate attire ready. We were not aware that you would be joining us in advance of the Midsummer festival... or indeed, at all." Perhaps a hint of reproval in that, but it's brushed away. "I was able to tailor some of Perschal's leftovers to fit you, though it's not rightly fitting - he won't be back for them, certainly." She comments, chatting as she smooths his collar, and reaching up, giving a tug to encourage Adam to lean down where she can straighten his similarly. "There, now you and your retainer both look dashing. Come now, let's settle for a spot of tea. Did you drive straight from New Jersey, lamb?"

Adam does indeed clean up and dress fresh. Silently, for the most part.

Connor chatters through his bath. "He has horses, and dogs, and birds, and he's VERY noble, so much that he's busy ALL the time. But he invited me to Midsummer, and me, I'm so busy with my work as an Ember I couldn't go, but it would be terrible terrible RUDE to say I can't come after he sent a messenger all the way to invite me. So I had to come and explain, in person, so he wouldn't be mad. I don't ever want anyone to be mad at me. Adam... I'm sorry I tricked you. Are you mad at me? ...can we still be friends?"

"Yeah, kiddo. Let's talk about it at home, ok?"

"You promise?" He gazes up at Adam and solemnly offers a pinky. "I know it wasn't nice... but I didn't know what else to do. He would have hated me..." His chin wobbles a touch.

"I promise we'll talk, yeah. I don't hate you, Connor."

He nods, not quite reassured... but he'll take it.

They are guided by the boggan Steward to a small, comfortable chamber where tea, hot chocolate, and a small variety of freshly baked teacakes, biscuits and scones are presented. A sidhe lady rises as they enter, and nods to steward Marigold. "I'll take it from here, Marigold." She says briskly, her voile showing the blazon of Ailil, opposite a hawk crest, and a sword hanging by her side. She has long, dark hair, brilliant eyes that are almost opalescent - first seeming to have a hint of blue, then purple, depending on how the light hits her... and as sidhe tend to be, devastatingly lovely. "Well, what do we have here?" She asks, a hand on her hip - not ON her sword, but definitely resting near.

The steward tuts for a moment, but then leaves them when another pointed glance comes her way.

"Um." Says Connor, his eyes wide on the sidhe lady... no, knight?

A troll stands at her side and a step behind. It's the same as the earlier officer? No - almost identical, but they have different hair styles, and this woman isn't wearing a police uniform, just normal guard-style voile.

"Uh." Adam almost-grunts, mesmerized by her magical eyes.

"Uhhhh...."

She waits, looking first amused, then somewhat annoyed... Connor blinks and then suddenly bows to her, realizing. He gives Adam's hand a tug to do so as well!

Adam folds over.

He sneaks a look, though, then down.

A barely perceptible nod - ah, she was waiting for that. The troll, on guard, relaxes a fraction as they appropriately show deference.

"I am Dame Calanthe Falkoner ap Ailil." Stepping forward and regarding Connor.

"I'm not sure what game you have afoot, small one, but I'm afraid we'll need to put an end to your jest here. The Baron is not in residence. Now..." Her piercing gaze flicks to Adam. "What mischief are you brewing, pooka? And don't think your name will protect you, if you came here under unjust pretenses."

"Not HERE? But I came all this way! We walked! Uphill, both ways!" Connor looks about ready to cry.

The mortal's eyes drift back to her visage.....

And then to Connor, and a frown.....

A glance flicked to the mortal, and she gestures for him to speak. Rather, she snaps her fingers. "Well, boy? Is that so?" Her eyes, liquid pools that Adam could drown in, now green, now blue... not a color he cannot describe, but may have been... or will be... in his dreams...

And, struck, he does so dream.

Or, at least, stares.

"Your vassal needs training." She says, dryly. Then looks back to Connor. "Well, you came, and he is not here. What do you now intend, child? The Baron is a busy man, and he is preparing for a grand fete in just a few days time. Surely you can't expect him to wait upon you. If he even wished to see you."

The troll leans forward and murmurs something in her ear. "...just a child..."

A frown back at her. "He is not a child, as evidenced by his presence here. He is a childling - do you come to claim your place as heir?"

Connor, dumbstruck, just gives her a baffled look. "What?"