"Truancy."

"Illegal Ownership of an Animal on School Grounds."

"Vandalism."

"Atheism."

"Disturbing the Peace."

"Fornication."

"Inebriation."

"Assault."

"Forgery."

"Possession and Distribution of Narcotic Substances."

"Forgery of Official School Documents."

"Theft of an Automobile."

The Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford, a man who oozed gravitas and who spoke with the gruff candor of a sergeant, cleared his throat.

"My automobile."

The Vice-Chancellor glanced to his right and left, receiving small nods from the two other deans serving on the committee, before he spoke again.

"Our verdict is unanimous. Thanking God that the legal authorities already have you in custody, Christopher Whitman, you are hereby expelled from the University of Oxford."

The young man standing in front of them, dark of hair and green of eye, flashed them a sardonic grin.

"You can call me Keats," he said nonchalantly, "John Keats."

"Let us hope," spit the Vice-Chancellor, "that you live as long as your namesake. Officers, you may take him away at your leisure."

As the constables grabbed at the young man's arms and led him away, the newly christened John Keats wrenched his head around to shout, "Wait- where's my fucking cat?! He'd better be-"

The door slammed behind him.

_______

Sighing, Keats reached down into his rear pocket with his manacled hands; he'd always kept a handful of lockpicks in every pocket for occasions like this. He was thankful that he had the legal right to be present for his expulsion hearing; it had resulted in him getting tossed in the back of the van by himself and driven over in the middle of the day. Scrunching his face in concentration, Keats managed to pop the lock on the handcuffs, opening one and getting his hand free from the bar he'd been chained to. Flexing his hand, he had the other manacle off in under a minute. 

With a grin, he waited for the van to come to a stop before he exited into the street. Closing the door quietly, he took off for the nearest house to get some cover.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to his- well, his previous- residence hall on a borrowed bicycle. Quickly picking the lock of the door, he bound up the stairs taking two at a time before bursting into his previous room. Charles and Devon were absent... unsurprisingly. They spent so much time at private dining clubs and meeting 'family friends' that Keats had barely seen their faces in the last week. 

Moving quickly to the bed, the young man removed a stack of bills from under the mattress before whistling and yelling under his breath.

"Tibbs! Tibbs! Come on, you flea- Tibbs!"

Keats dropped to one knee as a black and white cat emerged from the bathroom, mewing impatiently. Grabbing the cat and stuffing the money in his pocket, he burst out the door and ran down the stairs.

_______

 "Tell me again what happened, mum," sighed the constable, readying his pen over the notepad.

"He was a madman, I tell you! A madman!" shrieked the woman.

"How was he a madman, exactly?"

"Well, there I was taking a stroll with my family and all of a sudden we hear this shouting and we just barely manage to get out of the way on the sidewalk when that madman blew by on his bicycle!"

"And he had a kitty!" added the young girl standing behind the woman. 

The constable shook his head as he made a note.

_______

The engineer on the train to Manchester, having been relieved of duty after a long shift, yawned mightily as he returned to the small car where employees could grab forty winks when necessary. To his great surprise, there was already someone in his bed. To his greater surprise, the young man in question had a cat perched on his chest that immediately hissed at the 'intruder'. The young man snapped awake, standing and collecting the cat under his arm in one smooth motion.

"Sorry there, mate. Is this not my car? No, it mustn't be, since there you are staring at me like I'm a cyclops. Apologies, apologies. Please take this for your trouble..."

A banknote appeared in his hand, as if by magic.

"... and here's for your silence. Our secret, yes?"

After a second bill appeared, the engineer simply nodded. Keats grinned, the cat hissed, and they both vanished out the door.

______

The R.M.S. Majestic had slowly pulled away from England fifteen minutes ago, but it was still moving far too slowly for John Keats to feel comfortable. He'd be quite content to never see the shores of "Dear Old England" ever again. As the sight of the shore and many smaller vessels gave way to the open ocean, Keats finally exhaled. With a grin, he decided to explore the ship. 

The entrance foyer looked like it belonged in any posh estate, the swimming pool made one forget they were on a ship at all, and the first class dining saloon served excellent food, albeit in a crowded area where one habitually bumped elbows with strangers. Still, they served shrimp often enough that Keats was able to sneak plenty back to Tibbs.

_______

In the middle of the Atlantic, most passengers found themselves taking walks to view the stars. The lack of light pollution, outside of the lights from the ship itself, meant that one could see many more stars than they could from most cities or towns. Keats, however, considered himself truly industrious. After feeding Tibbs, he snuck out of his room and quickly picked the lock to the swimming pool, which usually closed around sunset. The glass ceiling meant that one could float in the silence of the pool and look up at the stars in peace, comfort, and solitude. 

Peace, comfort, and solitude, he thought as he floated in the middle of the pool... and heard someone else enter the large room with the swimming pool. He froze, floating silently as he tried to figure out whether it was a security guard or a kindred spirit.

Gavin was in bed.  Billy claimed on the train her father did mostly that... sleep.  At first, Billy thought it was about the injury, but by the time they had crossed Europe together, he knew better.  Gavin was as deeply depressed as anyone had ever seen him.  Aurora didn't believe it until the end of their first day on the ship.  Nothing she'd said or done had really provoked so much as a smirk from him, and she was really trying.  The most she could manage was a polite smile from him, one that always faded too quick, and a soft admission of his love for her and then... that glassy stare into nothing again.  He was daydreaming or remembering, but always it faded fast to sleep and whatever dreams awaited him.

She wished Billy had sailed home with them.  She knew one of them needed to be with the kids, but she desperately missed her husband.  And as the evening dragged on and she dined alone, Aurora found herself wandering the ship.  After exiting the promenade filled to bursting with all its star-gazing couples walking arm in arm, she finally passed by something that tickled her fancy.

The swimming pool.

She'd seen it earlier, everyone made a point of coming to see this wonder... a large body of water, flowing on ... well, an even larger body of water!  Whoever would have dreamed of putting a swimming pool on a damn ship?  It occurred to her then how much she'd paid for their passage and supposed she was well within her rights to want an after-hours dip in the peace and tranquility of an empty conservatory.  

The room had a high glass ceiling through which she knew she could see the stars.  She'd float in the water, just as she had in Iceland, and she'd look up to the heavens and let herself relax for a bit.  For a moment she'd try not to dwell on her mother's death, her Aunt Tara's death, her father's near demise, Will's festering anger, how badly she missed her family or the enigma which was ...

Volkov?  Anton?  Which do I call him?  Who is he really this man I nearly killed... this man who I don't know a damn thing about... my brother?  

She sighed as she passed through the doors, a sound that carried the weight of her heavy thoughts.  Looking around she found something to secure the door with so no unsuspecting crew member would wander in and find her about her late night dip.  One door and then another, it took only a few moments.  As she handled the last one, Aurora began to remove her clothing.  She wasn't walking back to her room in sopping underclothes after all and since she was alone, why not?  She'd swam this way in Iceland it was quite refreshing! 

Clothes left in a pile on the floor, the naked blonde walked briskly to the edge of the pool.  Her thoughts a thousand miles away from where she was in this moment, and without looking around the nearly motionless water, she leaped in.

Keats, initially assuming that the approaching footsteps were security, had maintained his silence to avoid getting in any sort of trouble. He didn't think that there'd be any real consequences, but he'd rather have not explained why he was floating around the pool naked in the middle of the night.

When he heard someone seemingly bar the door, he felt a mixture of regret for not doing the same and curiosity about who his kindred spirit was. Keats had just enough time to hope that he wasn't about to be joined by a large, hairy man when he was struck speechless by the sight in front of him: a fit, beautiful, and increasingly naked woman making her way toward the pool. Poetry, lines from Byron, came unbidden to his mind as he saw her step into the shaft of moonlight. 

In retrospect, he should have called out to her immediately as he saw her kick off her shoes. Beauty, however, often wins the war against speech. By the time he'd collected himself enough to express a coherent thought, she was already in the air, parting the water as gracefully as a naiad. 

During the brief period that she was underwater, Keats took advantage of that brief window to adjust himself from lying on his back to treading water in an upright position- more comfortable for a number of reasons. 

The naiad swam underwater for about half the pool, drawing close to where he was on the far side. When she emerged from the water, she was about ten feet away from him.

He cleared his throat gently, then spoke in an unhurried, nonthreatening tone as he swam into the moonlight to make his presence known. He was a young man, twenty-one or twenty-two, with green eyes, dark hair thrown back due to its wetness, and a pleasant, wry smile. 

"I feel only somewhat adequately prepared for this moment," he began, "by a study of mythology. One can point to a litany of interactions between innocent wanderers and beautiful creatures bathing in water, after all. There's usually some sort of alluring sexual tension before one of them falls in love with the other. And, of course, there's usually some sort of gift- a further gift, I should say, than the sight of said beautiful creature. Of course, if we limit our consideration to the country we've just departed, the most common gift from the water entity would be a sword. Therefore, I conclude my greeting by stating that I forgive you for your intrusion, I have absolutely fallen in love with you,  I welcome you to my watery abode to live with me forever, and I absolutely have a sword prepared to give you for your gift."

"I feel only somewhat adequately prepared for this moment," he began,

Aurora made a noise that could only be called a squeak.  It was a strangled yelp, cut off by the fear of drawing attention to them in the pool and her current nakedness all before slipping under the water as she totally lost her ability to float for a moment as she covered her private parts forgetting she needed her arms to swim.  Then she floundered under the surface, all grace gone, struggling to come back up for air.  

He continued as she resurfaced.

"...by a study of mythology."

She coughed and sputtered, amber eyes wide at the man who - if she hadn't seen him... ALL OF HIM ... she might have thought was her brother Will prattling on about some book or another he'd read all to get a girl to like him.  Aurora backed away from him to the edge of the pool so she could hold herself up and cover herself for some shred of modesty.

"One can point to a litany of interactions between innocent wanderers and beautiful creatures bathing in water, after all. There's usually some sort of alluring sexual tension before one of them falls in love with the other."

Oh my god...

"And, of course, there's usually some sort of gift- a further gift, I should say, than the sight of said beautiful creature."

Aurora swallowed, her eyes unable to resist the temptation of taking in the sight of the man before her and immediately comparing him to the other men she'd had occasion to see.  Her face flushed instantly as starry desert night skies and hotel chair upholstery came rushing to mind, as well as memories of the smells and sounds present on such occasions, mingled together with the scent of chlorine and the salty ocean air.

"Of course, if we limit our consideration to the country we've just departed, the most common gift from the water entity would be a sword. Therefore, I conclude my greeting by stating that I forgive you for your intrusion, I have absolutely fallen in love with you,"

Aurora's mouth fell open, dumbfounded.  Her mother always said men spoke of love too quickly but she had god-damned whiplash in this moment.  It was lucky for this fella that Billy WASN'T here now... oh god how the fuck was she ever going to explain this to Billy?

"I welcome you to my watery abode to live with me forever,"

She looked him over again.  He had the eyes of a rogue, a slight build of a scholar, but she startled as she found herself staring at his lips moving while he spoke.  She tried to dismiss the errant and offending thought.

"...and I absolutely have a sword prepared to give you for your gift."

She couldn't help it.  She looked. 

Oh God, he does!

"I... I... I didn't..." Aurora forced her eyes away from the man.  Her voice was a whisper but an accusatory one.  "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

Which, Aurora would later admit to herself was probably the dumbest words she - a criminal - ever uttered.

She added in a rush, "And I'm married so... shealth your sword, Mister!"

She winced visibly realizing again, it wasn't her BEST choice of words.

"I mean... keep it over there!"  she looked up to make sure he was keeping his distance.  She then glanced quickly to her pile of clothing and her gun which was FAR out of reach.

Fuck.

"You're not supposed to be here!" she hissed at him.

"Neither are you, my resplendent water nymph, but the universe seems to have wanted to bring us together. I commend you on your choice of nocturnal recreation, by the way. It's sublime to sit here and stare up at the stars, floating alone in the pool. Not that I mind your company, of course. You're quite welcome. As for marriage... well, I'm not married. Although I must admit that it was very unfair of you to cause me to fall in love with you like that prior to telling me that you're married."

Keats smirked; he wasn't convinced about the "married" thing. She was so young that it seemed more like an invention to try to protect her virtue. He continued treading water and looking at her.

"So," he questioned pleasantly, as if they were making small talk at a bus stop, "couldn't sleep? And you're quite welcome to float over this way if you'd like to look at the stars. I'll back off to the wall, if you'd like. I give you my word that I'll not touch you unless you ask me to. And as for modesty... well, I'm afraid neither one of us has much of that remaining. My name is Keats, by the way. John Keats. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but..."

He shrugged, continuing to gently tread water. The young man was expending a minimal amount of energy with his arms and legs to stay vertically positioned in the water, but he had to tire sooner or later... presumably. 

Aurora couldn't get out of the water without revealing herself and so she was forced to continue to hide in her corner attempting to cover her breasts with her arm and crossing her legs.  

"Aurora Byrne."  She offered, deciding there was no point in being rude.  If, however, he tried anything funny ... she plotted out the exact path to her guns, the quickest route.  She'd shoot him... or drown him... or both!

Then it occurs to her... "Wait... your name is John Keats?  Like the poet?  Mr ... 'O love me truly!' Keats?  You can't be serious, can you?  Coincidence you share his name?  Or choice?  And if the later... why Keats?  Some might think Shelley a better poet after all."  Her amusement rose and for an instant she started to relax before remembering suddenly that she was naked in a pool with a stranger.

"Indeed, Keats like the poet. I'd bow, except..."

He shrugged, treading water.

"Regardless, it's a pleasure to meet you, Aurora Byrne. I chose the name myself, since it fits me better than the name I was born with. And you'll not goad me into speaking a disparaging word against Shelley. As the Romans said, 'in a matter of taste there can be no dispute'. And while he's certainly not in my top five poets, he's in my top ten. Fifteen at the very most. "

They remained in silence for a while, and it was unclear whether the young man was trying to see Aurora's body through the water or compose a definitive list of his favorite poets. 

"You know...", he began, intruding on the strangely comfortable silence, "I'm not really that strong a swimmer. In fact, I'm going to swim back to the far side over here for two reasons. Mostly, if I keep trying to tread water like this I'm going to down- and I'm afraid I can't float without being even more immodest than I have been already. But I truly don't want to deprive you of what you desire- whether that's observing the stars or returning to your clothes- although I must confess I'm rooting for the former."

With broad strokes, he swam to the wall opposite Aurora and rested his forearms on the edge, removing his upper body from the water. He certainly wasn't a bruiser, but there was a wiry strength in his back and shoulders as the water streamed down him in the moonlight. Aurora could hear the smile on his face as he spoke, but there was an earnestness in his voice as well.

"I shan't turn around, Miss Byrne. You have my oath as... as a poet."

"No... I'm not Aurora Byrne.  Or rather... I was.  I am.  I... my name is Aurora Mastrosimone now.  Bryne is my maiden name.  My husband is Billy Mastrosimone."

She shook her head, "As for your oath, I fear it's no good with me.  I've known too many so-called poets in my life."

The smiled deepened in his voice, but he still didn't turn around.

"Forgetting your husband, I see. Well. In that case, I swear this on the life of my best friend, my only friend, who has stood beside me for two years, kept me company when all others have abandoned man, and constantly encourages me to become more graceful and refined. Yes, I swear on the life of Tibbs that I will not turn around."

Aurora made a noise that sounded a lot like a growl.

"I did not forget Billy.  I would never forget him."  Aurora could hear the pain in her own voice.  The 'loss of Billy' and the events that had happened in that span of time while he was gone, we're still very fresh in her mind.  She couldn't take it back though and explaining the complexities to a stranger felt foolish.

Aurora got onto the ladder and pulled herself up out of the water and stalked towards her guns & clothing.

"I love him."

She moved quickly behind one of the pillars and began pulling on her clothes.

"I don't know who this Mr. Tibbs is but he should, as your good friend, advise you that comments like that could get you shot in the country you're traveling to.  America doesn't just have a wild west... it IS the wild west in many regards."  She sighed and stepped out from behind the pillar dressed and feeling less vulnerable.

"And you sound like a decent fella, so that would be a damn shame."  She sighed, more relaxed, shifting her guns to hide them under her coat.  She came over and sat down on a bench near the edge of the pool. 

"Would you like me to look the other way so you can dress or are you wanting to stay in the pool a bit longer?"

Keats sighed as his water nymph hit back at him; he'd stepped onto a landmine he didn't know existed. As he heard the movement of the water, suggesting that she was climbing out, he almost turned around despite his oath. After all, he'd sworn on the life of Mr. Tibbs... but cats did have nine of them. Would one of them be worth... Keats sighed. Stupid honor.

"Getting shot for pointing out that one forgot their married name seems slightly extreme, doesn't it? A slap, perhaps, would be appropriate."

Having already enjoyed the stars, Keats swam to the steps and emerged, leaving it up to Aurora whether or not she wanted to look the other way. Within a few moments, he was damp but dressed, and greeted her wearing a grin, a white dress shirt, and black trousers. 

"Well, if you won't accept a sword as a gift or some mutual stargazing, will you at least let me buy you a drink?"

Keats raised his hands quickly, as if he'd get shot.

"As a friend, of course, Mrs. Mastrosimone."

His smirk suggested that he was still very much interested in Aurora_Mastrosimone, but had no intention of forcing the issue. 

He wasn't hard on the eyes.  Not her type really, but it was hard to deny there was something sexually appearing about the way that his pants and that white shirt clung to him.  Aurora, realizing she'd stared at him a little long looked to a nearby plant.  

"A drink sounds nice."  she said, welcoming the company of the public.  Surely there they could talk and it would feel less... awkward?

She smirked at him raising his hands defensively.

"Friends."  She agreed.

With that, she went about the task of unsecuring the doors with Keats' help.  Then the two of them silently slipped out together, unnoticed by any other passengers.  Aurora found herself rushing away from the door a little quicker than she meant to and a smile came easy to her lips as the two of them passed the first few couples wandering about in the evening air.  

She looked at her companion, less troubled now.  "Well, poet, you best get your fill of drinks now out here on the ocean.  I don't know if anyone's told you but back home in the States prohibition is all the rage.  Most towns are dry these days, at least on the surface.  For a man who doesn't know his way around the right circles, it might be a while before you can indulge again."

She tilted her head to the side as they approached the bar, "What brings you to the US anyway?  Family?  Business perhaps?  A fresh start?  Or is this all about pleasure - a vacation perhaps?"

Keats grinned at the mention of prohibition.

"That's actually one of the reasons I'm headed there. I'm a businessman, Aurora Byrne- excuse me, Aurora_Mastrosimone ,  and the United States seems like the most lucrative country for me to ply my trade specifically due to prohibition. I know you said that towns are dry on the surface, but what's beneath the surface"

His eyes flicked down to her clothing.

"is much more interesting. I assure you, I never have problems indulging myself."

He grinned as he held open the door to the bar for Aurora.

"Let's just say that I provide certain beverages..."

They slid into barstools.

"Whisky, Irish", he said to the bartender, but he didn't move his eyes from Aurora. 

"is my business," he continued, uninterrupted. "And everything you mentioned applies except for family. Business, a fresh start, and pleasure are all in the cards. But I am, perhaps blessedly, entirely alone in the world- and quite comfortable, thank you very much. What brought you to Jolly Old England? And you are headed home to America, I assume?"

Keats seemed to base his assumption on her accent, which caused Aurora to notice that he didn't have much of an accent to speak of. Elements of a British accent with some words, an Irish brogue with other statements, and one that wouldn't seem out of place in the streets of New York or Boston for the majority of the time.

Aurora felt the heat rising in her body as Keats' eyes roamed shamelessly over her and her mind couldn't help but draw comparisons between this slender young man and another who had made her scream out for God under a sky full of stars.  For a moment she could feel Silvio there, his hands gripping her thighs and his tongue...

"Whisky and whatever you a have on tap."  Gin was her go to, but tonight was most assuredly a whiskey and beer night.

On the barstool she turned her knees towards his, listening to the nature of his business and attempting to keep her mind from wandering to sinful memories.  God but she'd been apart from her husband too long!

"Family business."  She answered him.  "I'm afraid the lines blur a lot for me."  

She took the whiskey from the bartender and attacked it with the veracity of the animal that people likened her to.  She paused to savor the taste and exhaled breath afterward that burned sweetly.  She felt her body warming in a new way and her muscles beginning to relax.  

"And there certainly, there was no pleasure on the trip.  Just thankful to be getting out of Europe with my skin intact if I'm being completely honest.  The sooner I'm back in a country where the villains make sense again, the better."

She wet her lips, claiming a stray bit of the fiery drink.

"You know, I might know a few people looking for folks in your business.  It's a rare newcomer who finds himself with an in before he's even set foot on our shores... but my late Aunt was always a true believer in the American Dream & securing talent when you found it so... maybe we get to know one another better on this trip?  And, assuming I like what I hear, then I could introduce you to some folks who make your transition to life in America a whole lot easier."

Keats grinned, sipping his whiskey.

"Well... what can I say? I'm a rare person. I wouldn't say no to an advantage, of course, but I'm quite confident that I don't require any help to succeed. I'm very good at what I do. Where in America are you located, Aurora?"

He shifted in his seat, eyes still mainly focused on her even as they roved through the crowd.

"I'm sorry to hear of your lack of pleasure, of course. And your villain troubles. Seems like quite the story, but-"

Keats quickly raised an open hand.

"- not a particularly enjoyable one. And I'd like to continue our night to be as enjoyable as possible. You mentioned getting to know me better. What, exactly, did you have in mind? If it was learning more about me, ask away. I'm an open book."

As Aurora_Mastrosimone looked at him, she could tell that Keats still had other ways of 'getting to know him better' dancing around his mind, even if he knew it was futile to vocalize them.

"Las Vegas, Nevada at the moment.  Although home has been Philadelphia most of my life.  I have holdings in Detroit and about a dozen cities in the US.  A few in Canada and one in Cuba."  she shook her head ruefully,  "Home is more people than a place for me, though I suppose that has its own hazards."

"I can't help but notice your accent isn't too strong... are you not originally from Great Britain or have you traveled a great deal?  You seem like you might be the sort to have wanderlust  from time to time."

Keats nodded as he sipped his drink, frowning slightly at the aftertaste. It was... not a horrible whiskey. But he could do better.

"Wanderlust- as well as just about any other kind of lust you can think of- but I've been many places, Mrs. M."

He said the name with a sigh, like it was the title of a Shakespearean tragedy. Despite the "Mrs.", however, he still manage to draw out the "M", so it struck a midpoint between saying the letter and saying "mmm".

"And Detroit, actually, is where I'm thinking of settling. The way I see it, I've got a much better chance of flying under the radar there, since there's so much contraband coming in from the Northern border. I figure a nice little independent contractor like me should be able to prosper there... in fact..."

He put his whisky down with a clink, following it with a tossed bill.

"Come with me. There's something I'd to show you in my room. Something to share with you."

Keats slid off the stool and began walking, while Aurora just stared at him. He sighed.

"It's not the sword. Unless you've changed your- nope. Okay, that's fine... friend. I promise you'll enjoy yourself, though. Almost as much."

A few minutes later he was opening the door to his cabin. Instructing her to sit on the bed, he quickly pushed shut the door behind them. Moving to the other side of the bed, he knelt down, removed a box, and held up a bottle that had been very carefully packed. 

"This is a very special bottle. It's the prototype of something I've been refining for the last three years. I'm still toying around with the name.. right now I'm considering Keats Reserve... Poets' Reserve... it's one of the things I'll have to answer eventually, I suppose. But this spent the last three years aging in a basement at Oxford- if you pay attention you can almost smell the ostentation- and I've got more that I'll be shipping over eventually. My goal in America is not to sell a lot of whiskey. but to sell a small amount of extremely expensive whiskey to discerning customers." Pouring her half a glass, he handed it to her expectantly. "Distillation is a hobby- a passion a mine."

Aurora held up the glass of liquid gold. Keats was looking at her with such anticipation that for a moment her paranoid mind questioned whether she was being drugged... but she looked into his green eyes and saw something far more pure than the lust that had gleamed there before. She rose the glass to her lips and took a sip.

And her whole world stopped. 

She closed her eyes- she had to. Some experiences were so pleasurable that they forced the eyelids closed, forced the short intake of breath through the nose as an entire human being found themselves simultaneously in flight and rooted to the ground. The golden liquid slipped easily over her lips and danced lightly on the tongue. It was light, much lighter than she expected; it tasted like evening sunshine, golden rather than yellow, winking through the trees as a cool breeze finally, blessedly, blows. There was no burn with this whisky, only warmth. A gentle heat slid down her throat and landed within her before spreading outward, washing over her like a wave that she was powerless to resist. The wave carried away the coldness of Russia, the coldness of death, and as she opened her eyes to see Keats' grin, she realized she had no idea how long she'd been sitting there with her eyes closed. 

“Now I know your name is a lie. You surely Bacchus disguise. No one else could create something finer.  Name your price, I want the bottle I need it in fact.” She looked at the glass before taking another sip.

“You are going to be a very rich man in America Mr. Keats, and I would be an idiot to not want to be in bed with you ...” She winced “Financially speaking that is.  Sorry wrong turn of phrase ... Please tell me you’re looking for investors?”

Keats grinned, waiting until she took a second skeptical sip until she spoke. They almost always did that: thinking that the first sip couldn't have been that good, they try to prove themselves wrong... and they enjoy the second sip even more.

"I need one building, three stories, with at least two bedrooms on the top floor, a moderate sized space for a business front of my choosing on the ground floor, and a basement with a secret entrance for my... liquid pursuits. I'd need the building purchased in my name and transferred to my sole ownership for perpetuity. I'd also want to upgrade my equipment: supplies and such would need an initial investment."

He raised an eyebrow as she processed the second sip.

"If you can guarantee my security and assist me in lining up customers, as well as provide me with the large initial investment that I need... then we split the total earnings 50/50 for the first five years, adjusting to a 65/35 split in my favor after that."

Keats held out the bottle to her with a grin.

"And you take this bottle as my personal gift to you; my only regret is that it pales in comparison to seeing you in the moonlight."

He extended a hand.

"Deal?"

Aurora was no Tara Byrne ... no Isabella, even.  However she did know that this man was trying to drive a very hard bargain.  She should definitely negotiate for better terms.

That was when she heard the clarion call of a cat’s meow. She looks towards the noise. It was his bathroom.

“You have a cat?”

 Her face broke into a wide smile. 

“It speaks well of a man’s character that a cat willing keeps company with a man.”  She watched the door wondering if the Kat would come out to meet her. She even knelt down and made a clicking noise with her tongue.

“Has it been with you long?”