Freddie's got a retort to that all ready to go. Bellamy will be able to tell, or at least guess, as familiar as he is with domineering women digging in their heels. All the hallmarks are there, even if she wears them differently than Clarke does.

She also responds differently to victory: he capitulates, and Freddie grins, big and bright and delighted. It can't quite be called triumphant, but only because one gets the sense she was never in any doubt about getting the end result.

"Excellent! Come along, then. I think you will be pleasantly surprised, Sir Spindleweed, if you will only let yourself."

She pushes through the front door, a bell dinging once, a softly carrying tone that brings a man trotting up to assist them. Everything about him screams blacksmith, except for the delicate lavender doublet he's somehow crammed onto his massive frame. Freddie does a doubletake, but recovers quickly to smile.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm afraid my man here--his baggage was lost overboard in a storm and as you can see he's nothing left at all suitable for wear. Normally of course I would require Haut-Brion livery, but we are more on Inquisition business than barony at present, so perhaps something more subtle?"