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Emily tied her thick, dark hair back into a practical knot, mentally listing the reasons why it didn't matter. It was unlikely that he would find the book, in any case; it was on the floor, hidden by the thick vegetation on all sides. And, really, what would it matter if he did find it? She tied on her forest green apron, tying the knot at the hollow of her back with skill born of long practice. It was only a book, after all, albeit one that had a fair amount of sentimental value.

She walked out to stand behind the counter, trying not to look as miserable as she felt. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't convince herself. She wasn't sure what would be worse, him finding it, or him not finding it. If he didn't find it, it would sit in the humid air of the greenhouse and likely be severely damaged by water exposure. Just imagining trying to pull apart the wet pages made her wince. And if he did....

She could see him in her mind's eye, looking at the old book with a certain smug superiority, or, god forbid, pity. She'd bought the book used to begin with, and tried to take care of it, but when a book is loved by a 12 year old, much is left up to fate. She imagined him reading the faded pencil inscription on the inner cover--her own name, written in the large, round, surgically neat hand she'd had at twelve, along with the address and phone number of her house at the time-- and scowled, then realized she was scowling at a woman who had just ordered a scone. She apologized hastily and fetched the pastry. This was going to be a long day.

Alyekzander had the sneaking suspicion this book was older than he. It really was quite a bit frayed and had some slight stains. But it was still perfectly legible, down to the perfectionist schoolhouse inscription. He chuckled, but he had not picked up the thing just to look at the inscription. Moving on, he actually read a few pages of the story. It was not one that immediately grabbed his interest, so he found himself a bit distracted by the thought of a small girl with a book so large she had to hold it with both arms. Alyekzander shook his head; no, the image was not at all right. He either kept picturing her in fancy dress with lush surroundings or in a situation so desperate he almost expected Orphan Annie to jump in and kick off a musical number.

Honestly Alyekzander knew it was somewhere in the middle but, try as he might, he could not really picture it. That middle ground, not rich but still making it, was as foreign to him as Africa or Asia. Consequently he dropped the thought all together and concentrated on the book itself again. Books were easier to understand than people anyway. But most books and people did share one thing in common; they failed to keep his interest long. He did not know why. Certainly, he was curious what would happen to these fictional beings but, as with non-fictional beings, curious did not amount to actually caring.

Eventually he closed the volume, rose from where he sat, brushed himself off and headed back to the house. He certainly hoped he had succeeded in regaining his calm, because he now had no choice but to actively seek out one of those girls. He sighed and asked himself again why he did not just leave the book where she could find it. He could send a servant with it.

"Oh good lord, I can already hear one of them." Alyezkzander remarked to himself as he slowly and reluctantly moved his feet toward the East Wing. If there was one within easy reach, he supposed he ought not bother the servants. She sounded a lot closer than he expected, but perhaps that was her sheer capacity for volume. He could not make out what she was yelling and resigned himself to heading blindly toward the maelstrom. "Bloody hell, but that girl can screech. What the devil did anyone do to her to cause all this caterwauling?" Alyekzander did not usually speak to himself, but in the now quiet wake of that long reaching tirade, he found he could not hear himself think.

"You..." Alyekzander found it awkward to address the girl, having still not remembered which one she was. The only one who's name he could now think of was Emilie, and only because it was so meticulously scrawled into her book. Well, at least she was stationary and not so loud at this moment as her sister. Alyekzander steps closer and lifts the book for her to see. "This belongs to your sister, Emilie. Would you be so kind as to return it to her?"

{(Minor post edits. Had a brain fart and forgot Emilie's name is written in the book. So the whole "Gee, which one is she?" didn't fit.)}

"No, thank you, of course." He replied, albeit a bit stiffly. She was doing him a favor, after all. And had even managed not to do anything aggravating yet. "If it is all the same to you, I shall have to shorten that to Madeline. Your self appointed title is hardly very polite." Alyekzander briefly wondered if the girl believed it or if she simply thought he did. She must not have met Maksim yet. That one liked to annoy him on wheels. Well, that wasn't entirely true... Maksim liked to avoid him on wheels but wound up annoying him any way.

Max's eyebrows went up at the girl's exclamation of 'You!', but after that he got himself under control, arranging his face, feature by feature, into the same expression he hated to see on Alyk's face, a sort of stiff, irritated superiority.

He almost lost hold of it twice during her rant, first when she called him a snot-nosed rat b*****d, at which point he had to fight hard not to laugh at her outright, and second when she called him Maksim. She said it in a way that made him think she knew how much he hated to be called that, though how she could have found out was beyond him, and it was a monumental effort to keep himself from shouting right back at her.

He took a moment to make sure he was under control; it wouldn't do to let this howler monkey think she could upset him just by calling him by his given name. "I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you," he said in a tone that conveyed the exact opposite, "If you will excuse me, I'll leave you with the whole hallway all to yourself." Without waiting for her response, he moved past her.

Alyekzander was caught off guard. The girl was being positively... pleasant. He fully expected it to be some sort of trick, but what could he do? He certainly could not tell her to find it herself. Well, he could, but that was a very large book he had just given her and he would not like it to be flung at his head. "I will show you. It is easier than describing it using other rooms you do not know as landmarks. Please follow me." He turns and begins to walk without pause. The screeching had started up again and he was suddenly glad to have an excuse to walk in the opposite direction.

"I would, if I knew where it was!" Adrienne yelled after him, wondering if he could even hear her anymore. She felt better; the anger was still there, but it was greatly depleted. She supposed she should feel greatful to him, but her unstable teenage emotions, not to mention her prejudice against her step-siblings, kept that at bay. Quickly, the girl dashed the liquid from her eyes, horrified that she'd cried - almost, anyway - in front of her arch-nemisis. Taking a deep breath, Adrienne pulled a mirror out of her pocket to assess the damage; oh, god. Her face was mottled with pink splotches and her eyes were red and puffy, even from the tiniest amount of tears, and were rimmed with sticky black; a horrid mesh of eyeliner and mascara. "Ewww..." Her head swung about, her eyes frantically searching for a witness to her clown-face.

Rapid mood swings, thy name is Adrienne.