He’d tracked down (with Malcolm’s help) the most... passionate of Anson’s fan base, and as far as he could tell none of them knew anything that actually mattered. Sure they knew a scary amount about the man he loved but they didn’t know where to find him and everyone they pointed the finger to pointed it back at someone else. By now he’d chased down what seemed like a statically improbable number of people with Anson’s number tattooed somewhere on their body, spoken to every teammate, and even cried on the Appleby Arrow’s manager. He didn’t feel any closer to Anson.

“All I need is one good lead.” He told Adelaide, morose. “Just one.”

Daisy didn’t know dogs very well. She had one now that she loved very much, but as far as breeding and such went, Daisy knew very little. Samoa was cute because she was Samoa, not because of traits bred. While Daisy knew that wasn’t entirely true, for her purposes it was.

When she saw a dog running down the straight with two tails, though, Daisy knew it could only be one thing. She’d never actually seen a crup in person before. “Hey baby,” she cooed, bending down and putting her hand out to try and coax it in her direction. 

Bonjour cheré,

I do apologize for leaving without giving you any sort of notice. Please don’t think poorly of me for it, I am simply not as strong as you are in the end, Adelaide. You can walk through the places that haunt you and I simply cannot. Everything in London reminds me of Regulus, and of René. I never even looked for my own cousin. What sort of man does that make me? Now I have to plan his funeral.

You’re one of the few people who know about my English cousins. Will you look in on them every now and then? I will return home to London eventually but I worry about them terribly.

Sincerely,