Marguerite consumed her drink with curiosity. She had permitted the bar tender to serve her an experiment involving absinthe and a few liqueurs, which he told her after its production that he fancied calling the Lily Flower. She thought it was certainly a pleasant mix, despite its floral title and scent, and she wondered how many more experiments the bartender might have for her tonight when she noticed some frantic motion across the room.
Beyond a pair of colorful men beginning to perform small stage tricks off of one another, Marguerite saw Marie speaking animatedly with Colette. When both began to look about themselves, Marguerite waved to get their attention. Upon doing so, she attracted the attention of one of the two men. Apparently the show they had begun reached its conclusion at that moment. He bowed to his audience, mostly the ample-breasted variety, and spoke briefly with his companion before approaching Marguerite.
He certainly struck a handsome figure in his trim waistcoat and bowler, but Marguerite was displeased to spot the pin upon his hat.
“La Hirondelle,” she muttered, “a bird I’d rather not have in my collection at the moment, although not for lack of temptation.” As the man drew near, she smiled and sipped at her drink again. “Monsieur, you are quite a sight to behold.”
“I hope it is a pleasurable one, Mademoiselle,” he said with a bow, taking hold of Marguerite’s hand and kissing it. “I believe I was summoned?”
“Pleasurable indeed,” she said, deciding to cover the mistake.
He straightened and seemed to take further note of Marguerite’s bearing, then of her dress. Doubtless, the black lab coat with gold buttons and abundant pockets must have been a unique sight, but his eyes settled on the rosette.
“You’ve a curious emblem. I do not recall seeing it before,” he said. Marguerite stepped closer to him.
“It was a gift of sorts,” she said. She tugged on the collar of his waistcoat and tilted her head back, exposing the rosette further, as well as a bit more flesh. The man’s gaze shifted enough to study Marguerite below the rosette, and his look did not escape her notice. “What of the gem you are wearing? It seems to be a plume fit for a peacock.”
“Not so exotic. The humble swallow marks my trade. Much, as I take it, your coat would reveal yours.” He gestured delicately at Marguerite’s own collar, the backs of his fingers brushing the cloth ever so slightly. Brash, she thought, then she reminded herself of her current body language.
Presently, she felt the elephant stir in its pocket. Marguerite smiled.
“You might be surprised by the degree of accuracy present in your remark.”
Despite the man’s appeal, Marguerite couldn’t help but feel relief upon seeing Marie and Colette approaching. Her preceding reputation certainly would have threatened to interfere with her new profession.
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