The steps to the apartment complex were taken two at a time. His boots were shined to perfection, obviously. There wasnât a hint of travel on them or his garb, though heâs only just returned from his globe-trotting. Well, âglobeâ being a relative, exaggerated term. There were unfortunate limits to how far he could travel in this world. Blocks, barriers, blockadesâŚIt was all very infuriating, really. Infuriating and fascinating.
Heâd kept in touch with Sophie, of course. His darling, dear, perfect Sophie. It had been necessary for him to go. Information-gathering, theyâd called it. As much as it was that, it was also the fact that Howl was terribly bad at staying in one given place for any length of time.
Like a bird, he needed to flit about. But, of course, he would always return home to his Sophie. Girlfriend? Â Beau? Fiance?
Well, the latter wasnât quite appropriate yet, but he had plans. Great, grandiose plans⌠(plans that, between you and me, readers, would fall flat, but let us allow Howl a chance to pretend, no?) for a great grandiose proposal.
But that was neither here nor there. Yet, of course.
The key slid into the lock - how quaint that they still locked their doors as such, heâd very easily be able to ward the door but there was such charm to doing things the traditional way - and he turned it. He didnât bother to silence his entrance, the rustle of fabric or the stomp of heels as he passed the threshold. Sophie should still be out and, quite literally, setting up shop.
Only she wasnât and Howl entered the sitting room to pause and cock his head to the side contemplatively. âMy darling, you ought still be out,â he chided. âNow youâve ruined the surprise.â
The surprise being him, of course.
The shop, to put it plainly, was a chaotic storm that seemed set upon ruining each and every one of Sophieâs days. But not without Howlâs help, of course. Thereâd been a secondary reason for sending Howl off on his trip, one that involved his remarkable skill in finding astoundingly magical (yet still somehow useless) tomes and artifacts.
Heâd been sending them to her whenever he found the time. Most of them had been relatively innocuous, but there was one absolutely horrible stuffed figurine that refused to shut its figurative mouth. It would probably fetch a lovely price should they manage to actually find a buyer. In the time being, however, it yammered on and on and on, repeating ludicrous phrases and statements like a parrot who lived with a sailor.
Frankly, she wouldnât be surprised if the little beast had come from such a foul-mouthed background.
Either way, Sophie was exhausted. Preparing a shop for its opening day was no small feat, particularly when there was just her to take care of all the minute details. Thatâs exactly why sheâd decided to give up for the day, come home early, and pretend that she didnât feel entirely stranded after all. But instead of getting to put up her feet for the afternoon, sheâd hardly gotten into the sitting room â she hadnât even been able to sit down! â before the door flew open.
Her walking stick was propped up against the doorframe, just where sheâd left it before walking further into the sitting room. No sooner did she hear the footsteps than it was back in her hand and her knuckles turned white with the force with which she gripped it.
Howl looked just as well as normal. Not a single hair out of place, not any rips or tears in the fine frippery that he wore. Any other woman would be delighted.
âIâve ruined the surprise?â she repeated, eyes wide as she looked up to face what she could only assume to be the surprise himself. It would be just like Howl to come back with the high hopes of an absurdly grand return, arms thrown open wide with the expectation that sheâd simply fly into them after such a long stretch of solitude. âMe? Ruined it? Darling?â
One might think that seeing Howlâs wonderful, familiar face would have led her to loosen up a little bit. Allow her to feel safe enough to let go of the stick entirely and set it back down, but no, no, she only clutched it tighter.
She scoffed. The familiar motion of crossing her arms over her chest did nothing to soften the harsh set of her shoulders. âWhat do you think youâre doing here, Howl? I thought you were going to tell me before you came home! If you think youâre going to just come by and drop off your laundry-!â The solid heel of her boot slams against the equally solid floor of their living room. âDo you think you can just treat me like your sister? Come in and out as you please, doing whatever happens to strike your fancy!â
She should hope not. Sheâd seen Meghan on more than a few occasions, and Sophie had no desire to ever become so pinched and sour-tempered as she.