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Watching grandfather fly off she felt a twinge of regret. She often forgot in haste to shed her immortal coil that her abhorred eccentricities included more then absurd outings and unruly follicles. That her ties to her unfavored traits were familial in nature. On second thought she may make it out to granddad's after all. What was one fried pudding one day of the year? She might not have to be entirely dead to survive Albert's HogsWatch dinners. And if that was the case then she supposed there was no more proper a place to go.

Susan brought her fingers up to her scalp, nursing the throbbing egg she attained during her mad dash from the auditors. It wasn't everyday she went cliff jumping on Hogback. She also made to fix her hair back into something she was comfortable with the Gaiters seeing. With all the fortune her inherited mop had brought her Gawain would take it as an example to never again brush his hair or allow it be cut. The bump was a great deal easier to probe under the lessened volume of her bun as well.

The governess too to removing her coat, exposing a sleeve and bringing to mind the earlier tear she'd suffered earlier. For a moment her thoughts jumped from the practical to impartial as she remembered the cause of the rip. The cloth giving way sending a man plummeting to his death. The brief damning events that led up to that. Having stolen her weapon, backing her into a room, and running her through with it; before it took a dive off the landing shortly prior to Mr. Te-a-ti-me. She'd have to go by the University that evening to retrieve the sword she noted rubbing her left shoulder.

After what had to have been the most eventful sunrise she had ever bothered with, Susan would have liked nothing better then to see herself to bed. But Hogswatch being what it was meant the children would be up twice as early, to make twice as much noise, and cause twice as much devastation; all in the holiday spirit of course. And hadn't that been what she'd just spent hours to ensure? So Susan would have to settle on, several, cups of strong tea. She figured it all might be worth it to watch Twyla and Gawain unwrap her grandfather's attempt at a HogsWatch.

Almost smiling at the thought she realized she hadn't taken the time to fully appreciate the image of grandfather dressed in red robes, false beard, with a pillow shoved up his coat. It was within this rare moment of humored silliness Susan missed the almost imperceptible blur of black, blond and steel stepping in through the window.

It had given him quite a start falling to his death from the landing in the Tooth Fairy's Castle. He had expected more snapping cartilage with breaking bones, and less landing face first into a ham. He recognized the Unseen University from the amount of wizards standing around when he awoke. Jonathan remembered being in the middle of a rather lucrative contract. The simple hit on the Hogfather had brought him approved

membership to The Assassins Guild, control of all the children residing on The Disc, and the opportunity to kill not one anthropomorphic personification, but three. Tooth Fairy, Hogfather, and Death respectively. Or was it four? Would Susan have counted?

As he stepped out into the street he noticed the sun coming up over the rooftops. All his work dashed. But he did have one keepsake from the night. He brought it up to his face turning the blade flat to frame his reflection.

It had been quite an elegant undertaking too. He had taken all variables into account, and all the variables had barely put up a struggle. Usually there was also more of a tissuey mess with a stain. But for some reason this time all his victims disappeared without a discernible trace. How courteous of them! Sir Gorge's dog had left QUITE the stain. Both the one on the ceiling where he'd been nailed, and the one he'd dripped down all over the carpet.

The Guild would certainly be pleased with the clean, corpse free operation. And there was no need to dwell on all that when his original plan to simply inhume The Tooth Fairy presented him with complete control over the beliefs of the Disc's children. It practically held over the reigns toThe Disc. What were contracts and chump change then? Of course there were those susceptible little kiddie winks. He'd always had an affinity for them, and they'd always taken a shine to him now hadn't they?

He hadn't accounted, sadly, for the incompetence of his friends. They weren't seeing things his way either. The wizard couldn't work magic, the locksmith couldn't work locks, the vandals couldn't do away with the intruders, and his Banjo wouldn't do as it was told. He hadn't been at all happy with his friend's progress when the third big surprise of the night arrived. The sneaky footsteps coming round the stairs. Far too silent for his friends. Death's own sword had fallen right into his lap.

He'd never met Death before, which was surprising given his chosen profession. Teatime had heard of his Granddaughter however. Death having offspring had always intrigued him. How had it been done? All accounts known to him of The Reaper dictated bare bones. Ms. Sto Helit was most definitely made of flesh. Soft, milky white flesh. He wondered what would happen when he cut into it. Would she bleed if he used one of his own daggers, or must he use the sword? Was Death vulnerable to his own weapon? Would Death himself be arriving soon? He was rather excited about the fun he would have coming into all those answers himself once the contract was complete.

It really had been Hogswatch. Jonathan hadn't received this many gifts since he was boy!

He moved his new guest back into the locked room. Mr. Sydney was even making progress with the door, which was excellent considering he'd already had to dispose of one locksmith.

How unfortunate that it was at that time everything had gone irrevocably awry.

Teatime realized the castle itself was misbehaving early on in the night, more then just moving around locks and stealing away corpses. He'd known the place was doing something wrong, and he would have corrected it sooner had he known how to inhume a place. Let alone elegantly. Luckily he figured out exactly what game The Tooth Fairy's Castle was playing as Medium Dave faded and bled though the floor. It was dealing with them.

Yes. That was why his Banjo wasn't working properly, and she was there.

"..Mad kid aren't you?…"

Everything seemed to start… undermining him at that point.

"..chucking a stone at a cat and setting it on fire…"

His brute wasn't of any use if it couldn't follow orders.

"..no one wanted to play with you, not the boy with no friends…"

No one would shut up when he told them to.

"..looks up dolls dresses…."

He'd never encountered a sword before that wouldn't slice. Or sever. Or even knick.

Then she went off with petty threats and insults. And she had slappedhim.

Now Teatime always had appreciated being corrected as the circumstance called for it. All for the betterment and progress of his efforts. Why just yesterday he had thanked Mr. Downey again as he finished removing his throat. Downey had even been kind enough to finish granting him full membership before his arm stopped moving.

"Susan".

Teatime gripped the hilt tightly. Grinning over gritted teeth. He swiped the blade though a lamppost, cutting through the iron like a hot knife though butter. Just imagine what it could do with-

Her hand had been on the kettle headed to the sink to fill. She hadn't heard footsteps or breathing, rather she had felt it on the back of her neck. Far to high to be Gawain or Twyla, and far to low to be Mr. or Mrs. Gaiter. Of course who the person behind her was needed no introduction when the cold length of the sword pressed to her spine.

"Teatime" she breathed. She'd not been concerned by the lack of a body at the bottom of the Castle's stairwell when as all those killed there fell straight away into The Unseen University.

"Walk" he suggested helpfully increasing the sword's pressure on her back and moving his right foot forward. Susan obeyed thoughtlessly, mind trying to figure her an exit she could make her way out of intact. If it was not for the sword she'd have no problem fading off to the side. If it was not for his extraordinary speed she'd have made a dash. If it was not-

He walked her to the counter along the opposite end of the kitchen. Her eyes darting out of the doorway to check that the stockings remained untouched, children out of the parlor.

Both his hands were on the hilt. Which was one advantage. Had the kettle only been filled with scalding hot, or even un boiled water she could have thrown it into his eyes. Susan would have to make due with swinging it at his head as hard as she could and making her way to some more formidable house ware.

She jerked forward and spun on him with as much force as possible. However he hadn't needed both of his hands to hold the sword's threat in place. The free set of digits sprung out to meet her's as quickly as he had stopped the right hook in the castle. Taking possession of the handle, he wrapped his fingers around the kettle along with Susan's, squeezing her fingers painfully into the metal. Teatime then pushed the two of them the rest of the way to the counter. Using his hips to slam her back into its edge. The sword now pressed menacingly against her left shoulder.

"There you go again," He tsk'd both pale blue and deep black boring into her. "You go off without knowing the rules of the game" The childish chide becoming a frustrated grit. "I bet no one likes to play with you". Teatime leaned forward, with an effortless knack for the most perverse invasion of personal space she'd ever encountered.

Susan craned her neck back as far as possible. Rock and Hard Place. She really did think she was done with her obligation to order for today. Obviously not having left the familial burden at the door as was hoped. The Tooth Fairy was gone and Hogfather restored, there was no reason for this mad man to be here. How had he found here? And what could he possibly want now?

Of course there was the sword. He'd managed to hold on to the proverbial death wish.

Not taking the risk of glancing at Granddad's sword. It was entirely unnecessary, already very aware of its presence from the cold weight caging her left side. She instead met his glower. Chin confident, but eyes swimming with the various ways in which this could spin out of control.

Teatime's glare remained fixed on her face. Susan holding it for several pensive moments before his brow rose back up. The edges of his mouth lifting the slightest bit forming a tight plastic grin. Voice dropping a few decibels. "That's all right Susan, I'd like to play with you".

"I've no desire to play with you Mr. Teatime" Humorless and succinct as ever. "Thought I made that quite clear before you made impact". So biting back a small smile of satisfaction and getting right on with it, "What do you want?"

"But you don't know what game I've in mind" he let her consider that before selling the activity to her with a bright smile. "Its so much fun" …the inflection telling a wholly different story. Memories still fresh of 'making impact' in his mind.

"What is it you want sir?" Tone even but frustration building. Sure that the only games he played were that of mind and all had the same forgone conclusion whether you could win or lose them.

"That wasn't very…altruistic…letting me fall" Jonathan enunciated the adjective, stressing the syllables, ignoring her last question.

"Well you tore my sleeve," not taking his attempt to appear slighted seriously. Fortitude returning as she remembered what it was like to reason with this man. "In any case if we have no business you can show yourself out".

His eyes widened a fraction. "Oh but we do" he disagreed simply. "I believe we were in the middle of some very pressing business"

"You mean trying to cut me in two?"

He let out a bark of laughter, the sound beginning too late and ending too early. "Things weren't working properly before" The sword's tip moved to hover over Susan's temple. "but, everything seems to be in order now".

"Well then," humoring him and taking control of the hand still holding kettle "If I could I offer you-"

He drew arm and kettle both down to the counter harshly. Fingers letting up on her own. "Thank you, but I'm not thirsty at the moment" the tone warm but the underlying order undeniable. When Susan's hand remained firmly on the handle he returned the former pressure, "Put it down," He tapped the blade to her temple, "Please".

Seeing no way out she released her hold of the kettle. Bitterly. Her hand slipping out from under Teatime's as he wrenched the kettle away sending it sliding down the counter. It hit the wall with a loud BANG and horrid CLATTER.

Susan winced inwardly. She mustn't have the children up and about with this particular Bogey Man here. Any earlier then she knew was eminent... Damn. There weren't very many options available to her. If she could kill him now…A man would leave much more evidence then a Bogey, and give way to such inconvenient questions.

Seeking to take back control of her domain Susan leveled him with a withering look. "I'll ask you to keep it down, its barely 4' in the morning", managing that in her best intolerant governess reprimand Susan brought her now free hand up to her chest and in reach of her left. The kettle left angry red marks on her fingers. Bringing her eyes down to the injured hand, she stole a glance at the sword from under her lashes. Teatime needed to be relieved of it as soon as possible. She'd feel more at ease with it in the hands of Billius, or even back with Banjo.

"My apologies Ms. Sto Helit" he pleaded with a shallow politeness. "I would not want to wake…are we alone here?".

Susan kept her eyes downcast. If Teatime wasn't aware of whose home he invaded she wasn't about to enlighten him. Even now she was running out of time to deal with this without the other members of the household becoming collateral damage.

She needed to lead his mind into probing else where. Which shouldn't take much when the boy had the attention span of one of the Gaiter's late goldfish. "I…". Bringing her gaze back to his face she found Teatime's attention was directed upward. Her eyes flew to his currently unengaged hand only to find it missing.

"Why Susan-" Jonathan traced her scalp's natural part, fingertips traveling over the singular black streak flowing up through her stark white hair. His hand moving to cup the significantlysmaller bun at the back of her skull. He didn't know if he liked the flat conventional coiffure. He remembered her hair being far more…striking last he saw it. A mess of over woven spider webs and fishing line.

"You really shouldn't have changed it" he admonished earnestly looking back down at her raised brows, "You could hardly hide anything in there now". His eyes drifted back in wonder seemingly contemplating what he could have fit up there earlier today, before lowering to her mouth.

Susan's lips parted as if to respond, but closed as she drew her eyebrows back down to give him a concerned (if not lost) expression. His own expression and words putting her at a loss.

Smiling at succeeding in knocking her off kilter he took in the 'new' Susan Sto Helit. He almost didn't recognize her through the window. Ms. Sto Helit was without the cloak and black corset. The corset hadn't covered as much skin. She was smiling, that may have been a trick of the light, but her demeanor was…less. He liked the corset. All hooks, clasps, and trapped breath.

If not for the two toned hair…He liked her hair before. She didn't resemble the woman who ruined his chance at world dominion. He enjoyed tangling his fingers in it. Normal. Harmless. Such a better grip.

The new outfit was very school teacher though.She'd pay for that. And how very careless not to arm herself. He could see her shape without the cloak. Then again disarming her in the castle hadn't been terribly difficult. School teachers had never been very nice to him. It must have been a fluke she'd succeeded in overtaking him last night. Susan wasn't very nice.

With the Castle, Banjo, and Sword on her side. They liked to correct, Susan liked to correct. But now there was no Castle, no Banjo, and he had the sword. None of his school teachers had looked quite like Susan. But still just as tightly wound. He wondered what the girl would, or could, do now. Very, very school teacher, with long skirt, and the tight vest.

If he should kill her, would Susan's Grandfather come to the rescue? Were there stockings under the skirt? Garter belt perhaps? He was very anxious for a chance to meet him. It would be quite the auspicious occasion! More hooks and things that bind. Teatime was sure Death would feel the same after Jonathan severed his head.

"I hadn't thought of that," she offered back in dry condescension, "Most people don't use their heads for more then taking up space on their shoulders, you don't seem to make use of it at all".

"Oh heads can be used for lots of things" Teatime explained, words dripping with a confident darker knowledge. This woman had a nasty habit of talking down to him. For nobility she was rather ill-mannered. He could correct that.

His hand palming the bun suddenly clenched the pinned hair, twisting it like a door knob with all intended force. Her head whipped off to the side from the sharp pain. Cheek meeting the cold broad side of the blade.

"That for instance," With her head turned he leaned right into her ear, still giggling with mirth and calculating immaturity.

Susan was not amused by school yard pranks, but unruly little boys who pulled girls hair and played with things they shouldn't was her calling.

Seeing as she was without paddle or poker she'd have to fight fire with fire. Her hands shot up to Teatime's clutch on her bun. Nails digging in like hooks as the heel of her boot found its way intohis foot.

His body twisted away from Susan's hazardous appendages just long enough for her to break away.

She made it to the doorway. Though not quite outside. Teatime catching her just as she broke the wall. One arm holding the sword's edge diagonal across her chest, the other wrapped around her waist. His nails in certain retribution dug firmly into her flesh. Not drawing blood if only for a thin layer of starched clothing.

Susan's hands clutched the door frame. She'd managed her way out of one unsavory position into another.

Jonathan was positively sure this was the same women he had come here to kill now.

Teatime's chin dropped to her shoulder. Trapping her face between the dividing wall and his curly blond skull. Glancing sideways she regarded the glossy black eye and the tight line of his mouth. Sure he was about to break into sunny threats with the highest level of decorum before the softest of sounds broke the tension.

The pitter patter of footsteps down the stairs.

"Children?" he breathed a terrible fascination overtaking him. Head turning to follow the pair.

Gawain and Twyla made their way to the fireplace collecting their stockings and shaking out the contents therein onto the floor. Fortunately too consumed by gleeful avarice to notice Ms. Sto Helit and Mr. Teatime's heads poking out from the kitchen.

Susan stared frozen at Teatime's face. His eyes lighting up like gaudy Hogswatch tress. She could almost make out the children reflected in his ebony false.

"There are children?" his voice still low but loud enough to be heard out in the parlor.

Susan panicked, mentally berating the children. She had not wanted to involve them. A small indiscernible choke escaped her throat bringing Teatime's attention back to her.

Jonathan could feel her pulse speed up, her neck pressed firmly to his cheek. So she had wanted to hide the curly haired tots? His eyes traveled back to her face. Head still facing out to the new arrivals. He was truly torn. Children made this a lot more interesting, but watching Susan hold her breath was just too tempting. At least for a little while…

Susan hardened, following his train of thought to its despicable destination. Narrowing her eyes and shaking her head, she whispered (with great care not to draw little ears over), but voice cracked with unnatural base "You wouldn't dare".

A grin spread over his face, releasing a shrill giggle (similar to that of nails on a chalk board). Wouldn't dare? Susan wanted to play that game with him?

He was about to ask just what she thought he wouldn't dare to do-

Fluting noises rose up in the parlor.

She hadn't remembered them asking for anything that made a noise, but silently thanked granddad. She could see the word "dare" had done nothing to dissuade Te-a-ti-me. While she had stopped him once today, she knew it would not be as easy outside of the Tooth fairy's realm. The sword would work here.

There was most certainly death here.

"Are they yours?" He asked suddenly. Did Death have more then one relative? They weren't named in Twerps Peerage. Did Susan have a husband upstairs as well?

Susan was taken aback by the question. The threat she intended to deliver going back down her throat as if she swallowed it the wrong way. There was the temporary shock at the thought of conceiving, and the lasting displeasure in Teatime's interest in the Gaiters. More of his apparent daft intentions of drawing out her Grandfather. She would not toleratethe kids mixed up in thatbusiness.

"These children are of no concern of yours you twisted git" she spat the words, practically hissing them into his ear.

Teatime didn't rise to the bait, instead he sought out retribution.

"Can you have children Susan?" his voice became thicker. Incensed. Hand dropping lower on her waist, nails trailing a downward path. "I wonder if a freak of nature...would have all the necessary… anatomy" .

She almost sputtered, too affronted to blush or erupt. "What do you think-?" she inhaled sharply. Her fury unable to concentrate on a target. His words or his hands.

"For someone whose only ever looked up doll's dresses it would be instructional" a smile crept into his voice. His head turned further into her neck. Mouth rising to the shell of her ear to whisper privately "educational even".

His palm found its destination. Stopping right bellow the last button of her vest. Fingers fanning down just above her skirt's last button. Just above her slip's seam. Just above her knickers waist. Just above-

With that came twin overwhelming emotions.

The first tangible. A combined assault of physical touch on her womanhood, and the sensation of heated breath down her neck was both jarring and motivating. The second intangible. Instead of arousal or hysterics over the insult to her feminine sensibilities was something very familiar. And very welcome.

Black. Calm. Calculated. Rage.

Catching herself before she could call attention to them. She used her hands on the door frame to push backward. Propelling herself. Her body taking Teatime's along for the ride. His sword arm falling away as he tried to regain balance. The offending hand moved back up to maintain a better hold on her upper torso as her added weight made it harder to catch himself.

Teatime did not topple however. He teetered backward about 5 steps before stopping.

He wasn't entirely out of commission, but Susan was victorious in moving them away from the entryway and back out of sight.

She listened to the children's screeching harmony, pleased when it did not stop. They weren't alerted to the commotion in the kitchen. If she was lucky they wouldn't hear her disembowel T time with the gravy ladle.

Jonathan blinked at the newly made distance put between him and the living room. Slowly registering how and why he was suddenly sent backward.

Seeing the assassin in shock, his dangerous right arm held up and out to his side to steady his person, she took advantage. The arm holding her body to his chest had gone slack, so it was easy enough to throw off. Intending to spin away and face him before creating a large gap between them.

Susan succeeded in her first objective, but not the second. Teatime followed her movement, remaining behind her, both arms crossing over her neck and collar bone. Choke hold returned.

But with both her arms now liberated (with a reaffirmed vow to never be pinned down ever again) Susan took hold of his forearms. Tugging them down as she ducked herself, successfully sending Teatime over her shoulders.

Of course he recuperated from this attempt much faster then the other. The moment body met floor he leapt back up in one fluid motion. Mind actively buzzing to anticipate the next move.

He hated to be argued with, but somehow this was quite entertaining. Though she was hardly the first to put up a fight, she just might have been the first to last this long.

Teatime lunged at Susan sword raised.

She in turn went off to the side. Circling back to his side of the room, but moving further back then he had previously been. On instinct putting the wall behind her to avoid being caught from behind once more.

That did create its own disadvantages though. Now she was back in her original predicament back at the counter. Rock and Hard place.

Teatime must have realized this as well because it put the smile back on his face. He hated to be argued with, but he was beginning to love watching Susan try to outsmart him.

So instead of moving in for the kill he decided to let her try to think her way out of this.

With the sword held out in front of him he began swinging it side to side like the pendulum in the Grandfather clock. Although it all gave the impression of an over sized finger wagging at her in admonition.

"Forgive me Madam" He began, words lacking in any and all sincerity, "That may have been…inelegant".

The smug satisfied expression on his face worked her nerves from the inside out. Narrowing her eyes it was then she resolved to use any and all measures necessary to make sure she wiped it off permanently.

She found herself entirely within her rights. This was of course a matter of familial duty. Nay the Order of the Universe. That sword belonged to the Anthropomorphic Personification of Death. He'd need to be punished for theft.

She needed to retrieve it, and restore it to its rightful owner. After she retrieved it from Teatime's chest. She had lapsed in her responsibility, allowing a mortal to take the sword. She would correct this egregious error by dropping him from the roof (as many times as necessary) to prevent a repeat occurrence. And to set a firm, certain example to all who were as cracked and suicidal.

He may have the sword at his disposal, fully functional in this plain. But her own weapons were at her disposal now, fully functional in this plain.

Susan snapped her fingers.

The world around her, its mice scurrying through walls, wind blowing against the windows, and the children's music halting accordingly.

All except the condescending sway of the blade back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and fo… Back and f… Back an…

With such sick thawing recognition she came to realize her freeze had no power over him while he held the sword.

He'd been worried for a second there. That she might use one of her tricks to cheat again, like rendering the sword useless back at the castle. She certainly seemed sure of herself when she snapped her fingers. It did work in pausing everything around them. He was a bit confused as to what that accomplished until he took a good look at her face.

She was certainly surprised, which meant she hadn't intended for it not to have arrested him.

Laughter rose up in the back of his throat, grating against Susan's ears like sandpaper on open nerves.

It was quite the thrill out maneuvering Death. Teatime fancied himself the best, but it was such sweet validation. Though, he couldn't decide which was the more satisfying prize. Validation or the look on Susan's face right now.

She seemed to be unraveling. Literally in fact…hair unraveling, bun breaking loose as long curls materialized out of no where. Her eyebrows dropped. Perturbed scowl becoming furious glare. Black irises shining with far more light then was available in the room. The light source didn't appear to be originating within the room at all, but from within Susan. The glow melting the black back into a deep violet hue.

Teatime slowed his sword's pacing. He did not know Susan could do that.

Another violet flash to his left caught Jonathan's attention. His eyes drifting down to his sword as it slowly traveled back to the right. Bolts of violet sparks rippling up ether side of the blade. He cocked his head to the side, mouth slightly agape at the discovery. He lifted the unusual light up to Susan's noting the similar shade. That was unexpected.

Amused with the impromptu light show, Teatime was caught off guard when Susan came at him taking possession of the swords hilt. The large, extravagant bone motif was caged under Susan hands, while Teatime held on fiercely to the lower handle.

If she could use no alternate route she'd rip the bloody sword out of his cold dead hands!

They struggled in a intense tug-o-war. Pushing each other back into walls, cabinets, chairs, and a sturdy table. Sharp jerking movements meant to dislodge the other one's grip.

He enjoyed watching Susan come up with ways to outsmart him, but he wasn't about to lose his newest toy again today. His mind, adept with matters of mutilation, maiming, and machination, arrived at a colorful, practical solution.

Teatime let the hilt go slowly. Allowing Susan to pull it back towards herself, as she maintained a grip on the gaudy cross guard. He waited for one shining moment, before retaking the handle and pulling the sword right through Susan's hands. The blade slicing through her palms faster then she could remove them.

Taking the sword back, he watched her bring up her lacerated hands with a quick intake of breath.

She didn't scream next, but exhaled slowly. Shoulders coming up sharply. Face still cool and composed, but pinched.

He took this chance to advance on her, reaching out to grab her elbow and pull her toward him.

Susan found trying to escape his hold while unable to use her hands was difficult. She pulled away, but lost all balance falling backwards. The one thing holding her up being Teatime's left hand gripping her elbow.

Which he let then let go of, watching her drop to the floor in interest.

She looked up at him contemptuously, her vision beginning to swim. The floor had managed to give a good deal of the impact to the bump she had received earlier this morning. Her head throbbed, the beat further impeding her senses.

The ceiling became obscured as blond curls and two mismatched eyes stepped over her.

He studied Susan with a strange mix of curiosity and a terrible display of gears turning. Not one ounce of concern.

She took in his expression through double vision. Preparing to take unconsciousness or Teatime, whichever took her first. With her arms temporarily no good to her she readied her legs. Boot heels the last line of defense.

But before she could put ether of them to good use Teatime anticipated the action. Stepping on the long skirt splayed out about her legs. Clothing pinning her down to the ground.

He kneeled with great care to keep her legs beneath him and pinned. She went to swing her arms at him, willing to use them in any capacity to bat him away. He captured both wrists easily, bringing them over her head with one hand.

Teatime leaned further down to her face, her eyes trying desperately to focus. She renewed her struggle momentarily, but lost the battle to hold on to the waking world.

He watched her for several minutes considering what to do with her now. Free hand moving down from slack wrists, to her neck. The pulse had slowed. He slid his hand from her vein to under her shoulders.

Slowly, in case she was trying to trick him again, he put down the sword. Moving his leg and unpinning her skirt, he slipped his right arm under her knees. Lifting her up with him as he stood.

Teatime held her a minute more before deciding just what to do with Ms. Sto Helit.

A cold, wet splash brought Susan back. She was sitting in a chair in the Gaiter's kitchen. At the sudden freezing jolt she attempted to sit up.

Only to realize she was unable to. Someone had fastened a rope around her waist, securely tied to the back of the chair.

Her head ached and her hands burned. Susan brought them to her face, her wrists were bound together, although not tied down into her seat... Her mind tried to recall how she arrived in the present, but was unable to grasp anything that happened before she awoke.

But she had awoke…when she was doused with what was most definitely water.

Who?

Susan, both wondrously groggy and disoriented, instantaneously sobered at the black form stepping into her line of sight.

Pulling himself up a chair, Teatime took a seat directly in front of her. He watched her face as she recalled their last meeting.

Those eyes dropped to her bloody wrists. Jonathan then took Susan's restrained hands away from her, bringing the wounded palms to his mouth.

TBC.