#where ryn brings in wen to consult on the cause of death

[haledamage]

Lady’s Luncheon

for my dearest @queen-scribbles HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT!!! 💖💖💖 continuing my theme from previous years, here’s two ladies sharing a meal and a chat ;) though Xaeryn and Iorwen are both a bit more reticent to talk about their infatuations than AJ and Kira were. 

1920′s AU tLBT-verse, after they briefly run into each other in chapter 4! Xaeryn is Cait’s and Iorwen is mine and both are our MC’s from @shepherds-of-haven 💖

---

“Well, well, well. Detective Xaeryn Shrike.”

Iorwen called out the name as soon as she spotted the lady detective, and Xaeryn looked up from perusing a small notebook to stand and greet her.

Without the pressure of work and without Trick and Trouble’s pistols pointed at her, it was easy to recognize Ryn as the girl she’d known in school. They’d never been especially close, but they had both been part of Red’s circle of friends, so they’d at least been familiar.

Then again, it was rare to find anyone who wasn’t part of Red’s circle. He could charm the bark off a tree, if he had half a mind to.

In fact, he was the reason they were meeting here, too. Once it had finally clicked why she recognized Xaeryn, Wen had called Red to find out if he knew how to get in contact with her. It wasn’t surprising that he did; the two of them had always been stuck on each other, even if they’d never acted on it. Or noticed.

One thing had led to another, and now here they were, at a tidy, quiet little cafe that Wen had never heard of. It was certainly much nicer than the jazz halls and speakeasies Trouble liked to drag her to.

“Iorwen,” Ryn greeted with a smile, taking her hand in a warm, firm handshake. “It’s just ‘Miss’ Shrike. And should I call you ‘Captain’ Emroth?”

Wen shook her head as she slid into the seat across from her. “Only when I’m on duty. Otherwise, it’s technically ‘Doctor’. But just Iorwen to you, please.”

“You find time to practice medicine while hunting cultists?” Xaeryn slipped the little pad of paper into her bag as she asked the question.

“More like hunting cultists is why I practice medicine,” Iorwen replied with an easy laugh. “Keeping the Shepherds patched up is a full time job in itself.”

A waitress came by with drinks before they could say more. They waited until she was well out of earshot before continuing; apparently, being a detective made one just as paranoid as the Shepherds did. Or maybe it stemmed from being Mages.

“How’s your thief hunt going?”

“Still in progress.” Ryn’s lips pursed in frustration, eyes going distant with thought. Iorwen could almost see the gears turning in her head, rereading that notebook of hers from memory. It made sense that she was a detective; she had never met a mystery she could let lie.

“I don’t know how much help I can be, officially speaking,” Iorwen said slowly, making sure she had the other woman’s full attention before she continued. “But off the books, I have a few contacts I can ask to keep a look out. Discreetly.”

“And how much would this ‘off the books’ help cost?” Ryn asked carefully.

Wen waved off the idea. She wasn’t going to make an old friend pay her to essentially trick Trinaeste into being helpful. “Remind your bo to answer the damn phone once in a while and we’ll call it even. I’m tired of making the drive to Capra every time I need to consult with him.”

Xaeryn suddenly found the table runner fascinating, smoothing a hand over it to flatten out the creases before doing the same to her already immaculate skirt. “I’m afraid you have the wrong idea.”

Oh, Liefred, you sap. Iorwen barely stifled a sigh. He was so effortlessly charming, except when it counted. What a mug. “My apologies. The way he talks about you, I just assumed…”

That got the detective’s attention, though she still didn’t ask about it. Apparently Red wasn’t the only one who didn’t know how to get the words out. Wen let her have her secrets, for now, and pushed the subject back into shallower waters.

They let the conversation meander wherever it wanted to. It revolved around work, mostly; being a workaholic was clearly a trait the two of them shared. They talked about the Shepherds and Ryn’s work as a detective, about Haven, about Solhadur and their travels since leaving the academy.

“Where’s the farthest a job has ever taken you?” Iorwen asked, swirling her drink in her glass. The ice had long since melted and it was more water than anything else now.

“Hmm.” Xaeryn tapped a finger against her chin in thought. “Heth Macoll. The son of a well-to-do local family had gone missing. His mother thought he’d been kidnapped, but it turns out he’d run away and eloped.”

“Lack of communication is the real culprit once again. Those are always the best outcomes. And the worst.” Wen knocked back the last of her drink and dropped the glass to the table. “I bet Dearest Mother didn’t give you jack.”

“That’s why you always get payment up front,” Ryn laughed. She sat forward in her seat, elbows on the edge. “What about you? The Shepherds must send you all over Blest.”

“I went to The Reach a few months ago. Endarkened-born plague. Ugly business.” She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying more. That wasn’t the kind of talk for a nice joint like this. “I’ll tell you about it sometime. Someplace a little less... ritzy.”

Xaeryn was clearly getting antsy too. She did a good job of hiding it, but she kept reaching for her bag, patting it like she was making sure it was still there. Her mystery called to her again, begging to be solved.

“I should prob’ly get going. Blade will start to worry if I don’t check in soon.” It wasn’t entirely the truth - if only because Blade was definitely already worrying, with her off on her own while there was a known cult presence in town. But Ryn was too polite to leave first, so Wen gave her an out.

They paid their meals and donned their hats and gloves, stepping outside together. Instead of a farewell handshake, they gave each other a quick, friendly hug.

“We should do this again sometime,” Xaeryn offered. Despite the call of work, she still hesitated to leave.

“Bet on it. Here,” Iorwen dug in the pocket of her jacket to find a card. She didn’t use them often, but always kept a few on her just in case. “If you need a doctor’s slant on a case, or if you just want to grab a drink. Give me a ring.”

The card joined the notebook in her bag, alongside gods-only-knew what else. “I will. Thank you, Dr. Emroth.”

“Anytime, Detective.”

She watched Xaeryn walk away, waiting until the steady click of her heels on pavement faded before lighting a stick of charch and heading off in the opposite direction. Time to hunt down a grifter and see if she could convince him to help look for a different one.