"I like puzzles," he says with a smile, and only someone who knows his very well would understand that that particular smile means he's very excited. "Come on in, I'll pour you a drink."
"One is about your kitchen and one is about your family; which would you like first?" she asks, taking his arm with all possible gentility to be led wherever it is he's going.
"I cannot say it is all that much, or all that definitive. It is much more difficult to trace half-known lineages of tradesfolk than it is to trace noble houses, but—" Alexandrie squeezes his arm briefly where she holds it. "Tucked safely into my sketchbook at the estate are a few things I copied down from the civil records in Treviso; names, occupations, birth records—one of which may well be yours—" Aw, baby Colin, "and..." her eyes sparkle as she pauses portentously, "where letters might be addressed to two Camillas currently living in the town. One has three daughters, and one a son. Or at least, reportedly."
"There is a clerk named Marco at the office with a guilty sweet tooth whom I bribed mercilessly with the little almond candies Julius told me about," she says, resting her chin on his shoulder, "I may have told him a friend might be writing with further inquiry, and may have also told him about that traditional crumbly toffee they make here in the Marches, so if you wish to write to him and ask any further questions, I recommend you do so accompanied by a little parcel of it."
She's not a whole lot shorter than he is, but she is more delicate, and so he lifts her feet off the ground and spins her around before setting her down and breaking away. He feels elated, raising a hand to his forehead as lightheadedness hits him.
"I've always wondered, I never dreamed I could actually begin to do this. You say the information's at your house? When can I come get it?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Late Kingsway, a couple of days after her return
“Es-tu ici?“ It’s called entirely for show; she knows he’s there, she’d asked when the door was opened for her. “I have a present for you.”
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"You being here is the best present you could bring," he says sappily.
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“Three presents then,” she amends. “Me, and two puzzles.”
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"Family," he says breathlessly.
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"I cannot say it is all that much, or all that definitive. It is much more difficult to trace half-known lineages of tradesfolk than it is to trace noble houses, but—" Alexandrie squeezes his arm briefly where she holds it. "Tucked safely into my sketchbook at the estate are a few things I copied down from the civil records in Treviso; names, occupations, birth records—one of which may well be yours—" Aw, baby Colin, "and..." her eyes sparkle as she pauses portentously, "where letters might be addressed to two Camillas currently living in the town. One has three daughters, and one a son. Or at least, reportedly."
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"I can't believe you found even that much," he laughs softly. "I can't believe it. I have somewhere to start now."
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"There is a clerk named Marco at the office with a guilty sweet tooth whom I bribed mercilessly with the little almond candies Julius told me about," she says, resting her chin on his shoulder, "I may have told him a friend might be writing with further inquiry, and may have also told him about that traditional crumbly toffee they make here in the Marches, so if you wish to write to him and ask any further questions, I recommend you do so accompanied by a little parcel of it."
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"I've always wondered, I never dreamed I could actually begin to do this. You say the information's at your house? When can I come get it?"
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"Whenever you wish," she says, "To-morrow, today. Now."
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He offers her his arm.
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She takes it, not even mourning the unpoured drink. This time she will lead him, off to deliver what she'd found.