#slgnlsdgs time for both of them to be annoyed at having had to suffer through this for the sake of themselves

[vvrcths]

where: a side street in downtown london when: early evening whom: @colin-blackwood

Lucretia hated how her life unfolded sometimes — mostly when within the public eye — and the humiliations she had to suffer for the sake of being a woman of privilege.

People would ask what she was wearing but nothing deeper than that; if a person were to pick her pocket, she'd be acutely aware and sizzling with anger but have to pretend she had not noticed and, depending on the pick-pocket, say goodbye to the item forever; if a man were to hit on her and be a little aggressive she would need to wither demurely because, given her own way, she'd break every bone in his body and make him say he was sorry, at length, before letting him potentially live.

Playing a wilting violet afforded her safety in her life in the long run, a thing she desperately needed to comfortably continue her work and keep up appearances, but she hated every second of it. The demure, sometimes wild socialite who spends her money as if shopping is everything and goes to galas and events as if her life depended on it. A complete departure from the woman she was at her core.

But, it was especially frustrating when someone attempted to harm her or rob her, especially so much so in the public eye that someone could easily happen by and she couldn't just make them wish they'd never crossed her.

No, hands on her bag and a knife drawn on her — she was immediately annoyed at the state of the knife and the fact that it was not only cheap but poorly handled — and she was forced to, after a beat of annoyance internally, start screaming for help. Her voice carried, and she performed with desperation and a practiced fervor, wanting nothing more than for this to end and her to thank her 'savior' for as long as was politely necessary.

There were three men, and though people were passing by in the side-street, most of them were keeping to themselves, acting as if they'd heard or seen nothing — a thing Lucretia would normally appreciate but right now it was dragging out her misery — because it wasn't their issue to deal with. The rich woman would recover from a lost purse and most people who had knives out for a robbery weren't willing to use them. They were meant for threat more than use. But why risk yourselves for someone you don't know who is probably better off than you anyway, right?

Another loud scream, her face twitching into vague boredom and annoyance as she pulled her purse back towards her one more time. If she had to abandon that bag and lose one of her favorite weapons, a thin knife sewn against its lining on the side to be hidden from pat down searches, she'd be more than angry about the lack of help she'd received.

This shit was insufferable, she could have killed all three of them and deposited the bodies somewhere in the time that she'd been doing this dance, "HELP!"