When Henry finally returned, he ended up having less time to debrief than he'd anticipated. Things had started off normal enough; he took a quick headcount like he normally did after returning from an extended trip, and did a bit of asking around on who might have split up where. Martin had recommended the practice to him, and he'd been trying to make a habit of it. This time, however, he stumbled on a discrepancy that immediately started ringing alarm bells in the back of his mind.

The florist hadn't been seen anywhere for quite some time, apparently. She hadn't left, since her stuff was still in the pile with the rest of everyone's supplies, but…

Yeah, it was time someone had a look around.

He took it upon himself to get that sorted. If his hunch was right about what he thought was going on, then Robb and Martin could wait. This would be time-sensitive. Without even bothering to hand off his satchel to someone else to secure, he began sweeping through the building one room at a time to get to the bottom of things. A pit in the his stomach formed as his thoughts drifted to the sort of possibilities her sudden disappearance might have entailed. It was... a sort of guilty vigilance, he supposed. One borne of a few bad headspaces of his own.

Unfortunately, his intuition proved right.

In the back corner of the building, Henry managed to catch her rounding a bend in the hallway just in the nick of time. In her hand, she was tightly clutching a white, puffball-like flower close to her chest, which he only got a brief glimpse of before vanishing from sight. His heart sank. Even that small glimpse was more than enough for him to recognize it, and he realized he would need to act fast.

He quietly rushed off in the direction she'd been headed. Pulling out the flip phone took two seconds time while followed her trail. Punching in the number took another five, a time frame which she had managed to slip away in entirely. The call to his copy for backup took thirty seconds, and by then he was wandering semi-aimlessly while having a whispered conversation with his duplicate.

Losing track of her was bad. When the conversation ended, he didn't wait around for him to arrive. Continuing the search was much more important, since there likely wasn't time for anything else. The extra set of hands was more of a fallback option than anything. He redoubled his search, listening out for footsteps or signs of movement ahead to guide him towards the right door.

Not that one… not that one…

A slight shifting sound came from inside a random washroom as he passed by. As good of a place to start as any. Not wanting to startle her too much if she was in, he knocked on the door gently.

There was a brief flurry of activity from within, and a wave of relief washed over him. Considering the stakes right now, that was as good of a sign as any. The better sign, however, was when the door finally opened after a short wait. He tentatively greeted her while getting to the heart of his concerns as quick as he could.

She wasn't carrying the sprig in her hand. The unsettling possibility that he was already too late floated in the back of his mind, until he noticed part of a stem poking out from under the flap on one of her vest pockets. Enough to calm him down a little bit, but still danger close enough to keep him on edge.

Jesus, that's too close for comfort…

He schooled his expression into a mask of calm, and went to work.

"…First time?"

The florist blinked in surprise. As if something she'd been expecting failed to materialize. Her anxious look gave way to confusion, likely from the fact that he wasn't immediately diving into some sort of show of concern and doing everything to try and convince her to not go forward with it.

That seemed to work better later, after taking the time to listen to their perspective. At least, from what he'd experienced, it had helped in the short term. Evelyn's words in the underground cursed region they'd been stuck in had imprinted a bit on him, that was for sure.

The florist didn't know how to respond. Good. He'd opened with that to get her attention stuck on something other than what was currently spiraling around up there.

"...Come again?"

"That look you had as you were walking off," he explained. "It's the sort of thing I see when someone doesn't really know where to go from here, or if it's even worth staying for the end. I've seen it a couple times. Mostly in the mirror, though thankfully not for a while now."

She stared at him for a moment, concentrating slightly as if looking for something specific.

"I suppose you would be the best suited of any of them to understand suicide…" She sighed, gesturing weakly at the crystal sticking out of his chest. "So, what? You here to convince me not to? That somehow, some way, things will magically get better? Because I'll save you some time and let you know I've gone through all those lines myself, already. The perks of being a former therapist."

Well, that was interesting. It wasn't often that people opened up about their lives before the Witching Hours like that. Especially when she was already clearly feeling rather vulnerable. Her tone was frustrated, in a way that reminded him of his own occasional bouts of self loathing. He might just be projecting, but he imagined her thought process now was rather similar to his own had been on occasion.

Now it was Henry's turn to sigh. "It's good that you're willing to talk about it, but… convincing you to force yourself into an approach you already are dead set against would probably do more harm than good. So, no."

"Then why are you here?" she snapped. "Because I can't imagine it's to see me off, either."

"What I wanted to tell you," he continued, "Is that even if things aren't going to get better even a year or a decade from now, sometimes it turns out they're not as bad as you first estimated."

"…And how is my dead son not supposed to be as bad as I imagine?"

Henry smiled weakly. "Because this place tends to defy expectations. So, please, stick around. You never know when something might turn up."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He extended his palm outward. "How about I hold onto that sprig for you? Just for a week. I promise I won't toss it or anything like that; it wouldn't pay to since doing that wouldn't stop you if you were determined enough, anyway."

She gave him a suspicious look. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, if the time runs out and you decide that you want it back, I'll hand it over to you, no questions asked. If you haven't used it yet, I have to imagine you wanted a little time anyways to address some other things, yeah? This would just be that, except with a slightly longer wait."

A thoughtful look crept onto her face. Her hand twitched up toward the pocket for a brief moment, then paused, then slowly started moving again. As if weighing the options the whole way through, the clasp of the pocket was carefully unbuttoned and she removed the slightly pressed hemlock plant to look at it one last time.

She rolled the stem back and forth between her fingers, staring at the many little white petals.

"One week," she finally agreed. "But no more."

He took the plant away and set it aside in it's own empty pouch for safekeeping. Step one of pulling her back from the brink, done. The real tricky part would happen in the days to come, but... he knew what to look for.

"Happy to hear it," he replied. "Now, why don't we head back so we can get this trade business out of our hair?"

< -|- -|- >

The next day

~3 weeks, 5 days until 2nd transmission

Arriving at the site of the deal early certainly wasn't helping any of them relax one bit. Tension hung in the air. So thick, in fact that the fog surrounding them seemed underwhelming in comparison.

The conditions of the deal were quite clear. The captain would be sending out a group of five scavengers, loaded up with as many items from their recent plunders that they could provide. In exchange, no more than five of his own group could go out to meet them. At the first sign of there being even one more person in the area, the scavengers would run off, cargo in tow.

An ass the captain might be for throwing him under the bus at the first sign of pressure, he was at least shrewd enough to not be easily scammed. That earned him a shred of respect, admittedly, but not a scrap more. He checked his watch impatiently, seated on an empty park bench with four other choice mages nearby. Still not time yet. Martin was doing a good job of keeping the other three on task, but Henry himself couldn't help but start tapping his foot against the ground nervously.

There was… a lot riding on this deal going through properly. As he spared a glance at the rough canvas sack containing most of the artifacts they'd gathered, all he could think about now was the fact that if this didn't work, they'd be in a pretty terrible bind about three days from now.

If that happened, the only choice they'd have left would be to make a mad dash to Walworth and hope they can find Grace before it was too late. And that they didn't encounter any more wolves along the way. And that the Constable didn't catch up to him in that time…

Focus, he chastised himself. Don't trouble yourself with things that might happen if you're working to prevent them right this moment.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Just as it was slowly approaching a few minutes past the agreed upon time, a group of five, indistinct figures clad in heavy overcoats and sporting backpacks that looked much, much heavier began to approach the edge of the park.

Brown, dead grass crunched under their boots as they approached, making a beeline for Henry while Martin rounded everyone up to take care of business. They stood back, near the sparse treeline of dead, gnarled branches. Close enough to get involved should the worst come to pass, but distant enough that they wouldn't be seen as an immediate threat.

Henry got back into character, grabbing the sack off the ground and putting on the signature smirk from before.

"How do you do, gents," he proclaimed as they got within earshot. "I see everything appears to be going as planned."

A series of noncommittal grunts echoed his introduction. Most of them leaned back to let the packs support their weight instead of the other way around, but one approached him more closely and took the initiative on the conversation.

Guess that's the leader, then…

"That remains to be seen," the unnamed scavenger replied. "I hope you'll understand, but until we can get confirmation that you have what you claim you have, we've been told to not give up even a crumb. If you would be so kind as to give us a demonstration?"

"Of course," Henry replied smoothly. Below the surface of his attire, though, his heart was beating out of his chest.

"If you don't mind, this first one is best used indoors. Any objections if I set up shop over there?" He pointed off to a small, standalone kiosk alongside a trail in the park, likely once used to sell concessions or brochures of some kind. Now, it was just a slightly run-down wooden shack with an awning, perfect for showcasing the goods they'd spent the time to gather. Nobody had any problem with his suggestion, so they followed behind him at a safe distance.

"Let's begin, then. First item I have for you is what we've been calling the Toolbox. It's one of the easier items to make use of; just open the lid and it goes to work."

He set the steel case on a table inside the small stand, then quickly undid the clasps before throwing the whole thing bodily through the window.

"What was that for?", one of the scavs asked.

"Demonstration. Give it a second to settle itself."

The box landed unceremoniously on the table inside, spilling its contents everywhere. No need to worry about breaking anything, it was an artifact after all. Even the mundane case they stored it in was pretty sturdy. He waited until all the tools were free-floating before getting to work. Once he was satisfied everything was in order, he approached the door to the kiosk once again.

"Now, when this artifact is deployed inside a building, every doorway you pass through will change your direction of gravity going forward. But, you already know that. Let me show it to you in action."

He stepped through, bracing himself to react on a moment's notice. The shift came as expected, and his luck determined that he would be attached to the far wall.

A bit of a drop, but it could have been much worse. Going sideways out the open awning would have been a predicament had he not positioned himself to account for that eventuality.

He hit the wall with a slight grunt. "Now, as you can see…" He stood up, and turned to address the audience of buyers at a 90 degree angle. From his perspective, the whole world looked like it was stood on its side. It was a trippy sight to get used to, so he decided not to. He ignored it for as long as it took to finish his sales pitch.

"…I can now walk freely along the wall. If there were more rooms in this building, the same situation would play out with each doorway, up until you managed to return to an exit. At that point, gravity goes back to normal once you step outside. Alternatively, if you want to play it safe, you just put the floating tools back in the box like so…"

With a bit of a short hop, he grabbed a handful of rulers and measuring tools and crammed them back inside. It was a bit of a bad angle for him, but with some effort he managed to get them all stowed away once again.

"And now, gravity has reasserted itself like nothing ever happened."

A few murmurs passed around the gathered scavengers in a mix of awe and amusement.

"...crazy bastard actually pulled some out…", he thought he heard mentioned.

"...wonder if he's telling the truth about the rest…"

The huddle broke up, and the leader addressed him again.

"It's a good start," he admitted. "But let's do this properly. Show us everything else you have in that sack, and make it quick. We've got our own hides to look out for."

"Certainly. Let's start with the little stuff and work our way up, then, shall we? Now, this little curiosity might just look like a rubber duck…"

Below the surface, his throat felt dry. The scrutiny of the five of them was starting to add up, and he'd only just begun…

Maybe I should've started with the flashy stuff first? Gah, too late now… gotta pretend to be confident in my decision, here…

< -|- -|- >

"Well? That was the last of them… Thoughts?"

The scavengers stared him down impassively. Martin and the rest waited in the distance, doing their best to look stoic but each displaying their own minute tells. They were, for the most part, not being paid attention to, so they could afford to slip up here and there.

Henry had no such luxury. As the silence dragged on, his casual expression became harder and harder for him to perfectly maintain.

The pressure mounted slowly, then faded all at once.

"Leave him the extra," the spokesperson relented. "The cantrip stuff's not worth as much as the captain thought at first, but he was at least truthful about it all."

Four of the five backpacks were unclasped and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Unburdened by the oversized containers, one of the other scavengers groaned in relief while they collected up the various trinkets strewn about in an unsorted heap and began stuffing them one by one into the bag.

"If you find anything more, don't hesitate to make a second visit back," the scavenger told Henry. "Not often we get someone both crazy enough to try delving curses, and even less successful enough to not die in the process."

"Our mutual associate will be the first to know if I do," Henry lied.

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