Theo, All Mother rest his soul, had been a man of thirty with the clean, soft hands and baby face of someone who had never known labor. He was a barrister, which meant his entire life revolved around the paperwork and litigation of common law—all profoundly boring, in Nox’s opinion. He had come to the Selkie four months before their fated night, intent on finding a woman to take his long-overdue virginity. He’d paid a girl handsomely, his coins damp with the sweat of his clammy hands. Once he’d gotten to her room, his nerves had overwhelmed him. He’d stammered a few things about what was decent and proper. He urged her to put her robe back on and insisted they talk about their childhoods. Despite feeling terribly awkward, the poor girl had politely obliged, fully clothed. She’d sat with Theo for his two prepaid hours while he asked her invasive questions about her siblings, her food allergies, her faith, and what had resulted in her life in a whorehouse—a term that she recalled definitively as her tipping point in patience. When his time was up, she’d firmly requested that Millicent pair him with another girl the next time he visited. She wouldn’t allow his secondhand shame to sully her.

Theo returned the following night and tried to catch the same girl’s eye, but she pointedly avoided him. Nox dutifully poured him a chilled pint and chatted with the downtrodden man. He finished his drink and thanked her for sharing her company and for listening to his woes on life and women.

Night after night Theo returned, usually guilting Nox into joining him for a glass of blackberry wine that she would cordially sip throughout the evening. Before long, she knew she was looking into the doe-eyed gaze of a man who fancied himself in love. While he did indeed ask her about herself, he preferred to do most of the talking, as was common with the Selkie’s patrons. She listened, nodded, smiled, and always knew how to ask the polite follow-up questions to keep him drinking, tipping, and returning.

Soon, Theo was spending every evening at the Selkie. He had no family, he’d said, as his parents had passed, and he’d never married. He told Nox that she was his only family. Though he’d meant it as endearment, his proclamation tasted like sour mead. Theo had something of a knack for making women uncomfortable.