Susan Pevensie

I should like to meet this Adam, in any case.

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Perhaps a bit wryly, "Yes, I thought you might. Just...I know he's, well. The Antichrist and all, which is...well, it is, but do be nice, at least at first? At least until you've really spoken to him?"

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I'm a lady, Lucy. I try to always be polite.

This Adam... he doesn't live with his father, does he?

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Yes, well, in Lucy's opinion, Susan could be polite while shooting an arrow down someone's throat.

It's possible Lucy thinks this because she's seen it happen.

"No. No, he doesn't."

He lives in a demon's flat!

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Well, that's good, at least. Does he have a mother?

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"I suppose he must have. But he hasn't mentioned her. He might not know. He was adopted as a child, and didn't know about his father for a while, I think."

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Oh! Oh, well, that's very good then.

*It would be another thing if the boy had grown up in Hell or somesuch. If he's telling the truth, that is.*

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And there is a quiet knock on the door.

"Su? Lucy? Are you two in there?"

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"Yes, I think so too." She smiles faintly.

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*She squeezes Lucy's hand. Then there is a knock on the door, and Peter's voice calls out to them.*

Yes, we're here, Peter. Do come in.

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There is a great deal of rattling, and then the door is finally opened, revealed Peter precariously balancing a large tray carrying a tea pot, three cups, cream, and sugar, along with biscuits, scones, small sandwiches, and cake.

"I can't find Ed, but I thought the two of you might like to join me in having a proper tea."

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She eyes the tea, eyes Peter, eyes Susan, and falls over the side of the chair laughing.

Why? Because Fleur is right, she realizes, and they are so very British.

Around the fabric of the chair and her giggles, "Of course, Peter, that's lovely," and another bout of giggles before, "Thank you."

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*Susan giggles with her.*

Thank you, Peter. It's just what we need.

Tea makes everything better. As do biscuits.

*She reaches for one.*

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Peter sets the tray down on a table, looking concerned.

"Are there things that need to be made better?"

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"Peter, stop worrying and eat a scone, will you?" With a smile, as she sits up a bit straighter.

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We've had a lovely day so far, Peter. You needn't worry.

*She grins at Lucy.*

We've been catching up a bit.

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"Ah," Peter says vaguely, but his brief glance at Susan says 'We'll talk later, won't we?' and 'Please tell me I'm not the only one who's worried'.

He sits down and pours tea, passing a cup each to Susan and Lucy.

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And, as Lucy sees the glance, it's understandable that her jaw tightens slightly for a momebt before she smiles again and sips the tea.

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*Susan smiles at Lucy, but ducks her head down slightly. That's how it always was: Susan and Peter conferring in worried whispers over the younger two. Susan is worried, though.*

Edmund told me there are stables here.

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"There are," Peter confirms. His forehead wrinkles.

"I wish I'd known you were coming, Su."

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And Lucy is not sulking, but she is quieter, now, as she grabs something--she doesn't much care what--to eat.

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I wish I'd known I could find you again.

*She reaches out and squeezes Lucy's hand again, not letting her sulk on her own.*

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Peter is already wondering if he can find the Marquis again, and how much another horse would add to the tab he's already rather afraid of, and who else might be willing to help him. A mare, he thinks, if possible, black, delicate and fast. But he pushes these considerations back and puts a hand on Susan's shoulder.

"I'm ever so glad you did."

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