“Ah.” He shook his head, shoulders coming up and forward as though in disappointment, or defeat. “A fair assessment. Unfortunately, humor was not something I was schooled in during my education.” His voice took on a deep tone, playing the long suffering victim of his own attempts at humor (even though none suffered so as though forced to bear it).

It was a truth, in that it was true, and also a lie, in that his education had been anything but bog standard.

“And, no,” he added, as they came round the building proper to the front door, “but I’ve always found lighthouses fascinating. Insofar as one can be fascinated by humanity’s hectic attempt to control nature.” The door was a faded red wooden beast with a six-paned window of thick glass set in the center. The brass knob, well worn, jiggled but didn’t turn. Thomas frowned.

Helena was at his side in a moment. He was about to ask his Mismagius to assist them with entry to the lighthouse when he felt the telltale burning of a coughing fit punch its way up his throat. He gestured, instead, to the door, and turned away to mask it in the crook of his arm. Helena faded through the door, and a moment later, there was the telltale thunk of a lock opening, and the door swung inward.

“Apologies,” Thomas said tightly, stepping backwards to allow Jamie entrance to the Lifesaver’s station, “I fear the damp air causes me some concern.” He fought for a few moments more to swallow his cough and finally forced the burn back deeper in his chest. He’d deal with that later.

@abraxas

☉