It creaked slightly. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. "Past noon," replied Blueskin. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. " "I've heard of him," replied Jack, impatiently. It has instead found you. I’ll walk over there once I change clothes. Blueskin is booked. It was a habit of his to talk to himself.
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