This is ever more likely to devolve into two notebooks, Tristan mused silently, watching as Gwen whipped the last broom on their agenda, the Twigger 610, into a tight spiral, playing with the model's infinitely superior handling.

He'd been sketching and scrawling notes for the most of the morning and early afternoon, ideas about speed ratios and the necessary limit of braking power. Lots, his mind supplied, somewhat unhelpfully, though it was certainly true. He'd had to give warning on the less-than-stellar capabilities in that area of the Nova 850 Spark he'd handed over for testing, refraining from a wince at the thought of Gwen pointing that bit of work full-speed at the grounds.

Despite Flyte & Barker's tendency, as a company, to put out some truly bizarre products, the 610 seemed to be keeping Gwen's attention with its whippy responsiveness. It wasn't built for the eye-watering speeds she preferred, but that was, after all, the point of so much testing; gathering all the best points and trying to piece them together into one broom. Tristan had an inkling that he'd be doing further reading on magically-fused woods in the near future; the willow-ash hybrid was what gave the 610 its buttery-smooth motion, but Gwen would snap it in the heat of a chase. Oak would defeat the purpose. Perhaps cherry. Perhaps he'd charm the notebook to not run out of pages.

Oh, Gwen thought as she twisted upside-down, just like that. The Twigger had the best touch response of any broom she'd ever flown. Almost the moment she thought what she wanted to do, her body's smallest of movements and adjustments, and the 610 responded beautifully.

After a few more tight spirals, Gwen caught sight of Tristan down on the green. She'd been on the Twigger for longer than was strictly necessary and after an extended corkscrew, close circles until she was bordering on dizzy, Gwen made a leisurely descent and a light landing not more than a few steps away from Tristan.

"That," Gwen began, flashing a quick grin as she swiped away the hair that had escaped her ponytail, "is exactly what I want for handling."

Flushed from the ride and cool air, Gwen slipped off her kid leather flying gloves and pressed the back of her hand to her cold skin for warmth. "The power and speed leaves a bit to be desired, but the 610 reacts to what I want almost as I think it. I like that kind of ... responsiveness," she finished, smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

"Which is exactly why it made the short list. Duly noted," Tristan acknowledged, biting back most of his own smirk. He made a little check mark next to where he'd written 'an ideal base for handling' at the top of a page, and tucked his pencil back into its proper slot in the book. "I'll start making a list of likely wood combinations once I have some time in the shop. The 610 is willow and ash, but that's a bit breakable for your... style."

Closing his notebook with a soft snap, he nodded at the two foreign models Gwen had brought along to show him. "I'm intrigued by the Isis... it's not something I was aware of, for all it's remarkably like the Blue I had in mind for Bell. A good mix, but not enough. The Sicilian... all of the same problems you have with the Firebolt, though again, a lovely fly. The Aliante 110, wasn't it? Magnus might be interested if you've not shown it to him already, and I've a French model that's similar in the assortment in my workshop."

He smiled then, offering conversationally, "Speaking of, shall we return these to the racks and give you a chance to look around? I imagine it's not quite your broom collection, but it's where I'll be working on the new commission."

Gwen's eyes focused in on Tristan then, going just a little bright at the suggestion of seeing his collection. Her gaze ran over his face, how his smile seemed to ... make him more somehow, before coming back to his eyes a beat later. "I would love to have the chance to peruse your collection."

As they began to walk, Gwen smiled to herself before glancing up at Tristan. "And I'd hope yours is not like mine in the least. You've a fantastic eye for quality and your work has been anything but disappointing thus far. I have to admit I'm more than a little interested to see what you have that's different than mine and, of course, where all the ... magic, you could say, happens."

Gwen's tone and the tint of her words sparked Tristan's amusement, and he indulged in a rare laugh, though it was the second she'd had from him in the span of their acquaintance. "I suppose 'magic' is an apt enough description, though often it's rather more like 'chaos' than anything. It's my business to know quality, so far as brooms, though usually I've nothing near the same kind of competence from a client as you've shown. I'll grant it making the entire process both more effective and more pleasant."

The stable was just up the low hill from the old barn that housed his workshop, and he spotted Mallow's prancing gait in the yard as he and Gwen made shouting distance of the two buildings. Regan wheeled the gelding to face them as she noticed their approach, setting off at a trot to intercept them at the fence.

Gwen murmured her agreement to Tristan's pronouncement that their business would likely be more effective and pleasant. Both of them had advanced knowledge of the product being worked with, and a smile pulled at her lips as she watched the laughter play through his body. She was of the opinion that this man should laugh more as well. It suited him.

As he stared off into the distance, Gwen followed his gaze and saw a small figure a top a gentle looking horse approaching them and realized that it was Regan. Her eyes lit, genuinely pleased to see the young girl. "She rides beautifully," Gwen commented absently.

She glanced up at Tristan then. "Is it something she truly enjoys?" She had a thought that it'd been much too long since she'd been to Glenlivet to ride Mab. She would have to drag Joscelin out with her now that he was home, but perhaps she would mention it to Tristan sometime if it was something Regan liked.

"One of rather few," Tristan answered, slowing to a stop as they neared the rock path to the workshop. His lips twitched as Regan geared Mallow to leap the stable fence, which he cleared easily, causing Regan to grin. "I wish she wouldn't do that," he muttered under his breath, waiting as his sister reined her horse around, letting the beast prance up to nose Tristan's pockets. "I haven't got any sweeties for you, you great greedy thing," he groused good-naturedly, rubbing the long pale face butting against his chest.

Regan giggled from Mallow's back, cheerful and rosy from the wind and a morning of running around outdoors. "He isn't greedy, he just has a sweet tooth. A very large one. Here," she offered, standing in her stirrups to pull a few lumps of sugar from her pocket, tossing them to her brother. "He's been a good fellow and deserves his treat now." Her smile changed as she turned to Gwen, eyes dropping after a second, then darting back, grateful to already be too pink for her blush to show. "Good afternoon. Did flying go well, then?"

"It did," Gwen nodded, a small smile peeking at the interplay between the siblings. She seemed to make the small girl a bit nervous, if only because she tended towards shyness, and Gwen made a point to stay half a step behind Tristan.

"My Arabian also has quite the sweet tooth," she nodded, eyes flicking to the horse nibbling the sugar cubes out of Tristan's palm. "Though I can't say that Queen Mab deserves hers for being good like your gelding here. She very much demands sweet things."

"Oh! Do you ride?" Regan started, forgetting her nerves for a moment in a burst of excitement. "Arabians are ever so pretty, but awfully high-spirited... your Queen Mab sounds it, too, though I don't imagine you have too much trouble with her. Mallow's a complete darling," she said fondly, stretching forward to scratch the horse's ears. "Tess too. Pride isn't... he's beastly, but he's Trist's." Her nose wrinkled in her brother's direction along with the statement, though the expression faded into a grin hardly a beat later. "I think Mallow would eat apples and sugar until he burst if I let him."

Yes, Gwen thought, she most definitely enjoys riding. Regan opened up and shined as she chattered about their horses, expressions openly crossing her face as she spoke.

"'High-spirited' is an overly optimistic way to describe Mab, but it works well enough," Gwen grinned, slipping into a warm, rich chuckle a moment later as Regan wrinkled her nose at Tristan. "Somehow I'm not surprised that your brother's horse is ... beastly," she commented, eyes sliding to Tristan a moment later, catching his eye in good humor before looking back up at Regan. "My brother's horse, Odin, could be described as such also," she offered.

A hint of a grimace curling her mouth at the connotations of the name, Regan considered aloud, "The one-eyed god... wise, but vicious. That does sound beastly. I suppose Pride's just unfriendly." She shook her head slightly, casting off the web of thoughts called up by the Norse reference, and smiled at Gwen. "Mab sounds sassy. Must be an Arabian trait, as the two I've ever met were, as well."

Sparing an arched eyebrow to Gwen's commentary, a smirk surfacing at her glance, Tristan patted Regan's booted foot where it rested in the stirrup nearer him. "Unless Annie's stuffed you full of pie, already, it's nigh unto time for you to be ravenous," he pointed out, chuckling as he suddenly had his sister's full attention. "So, go get Mallow brushed and settled, and Gwen and I will conclude business for the day and join you for tea." He turned to Gwen to check her reaction to the suggestion, though he was hungry himself and imagined after several hours' hard flying that she would be, too.

Pulling her thoughts from the miasma Regan had brought up in exploring the Norse mythology behind Joscelin's choice of name for his horse, Gwen nodded at Tristan.

Her brother had always been interested in mythology - Greek, Roman, Celtic and Norse especially, and native folklore as well. Regan's extrapolation of the Nordic god had reminded her of many a story he'd told her by the hearth growing up. Joscelin had always been a wonderful storyteller, but those thoughts were for her journal and another time, though she had a stray notion that her brother would also find Regan rather charming.

"All right," Regan agreed, picking up her reins properly once more. She was hungry, and it pleased her for Tristan to be so genial in Gwen's company. She guided Mallow to back up, then turned and raced for the fence, giggling gleefully as they sailed over it a second time, able to picture her brother's pinched look. Mallow wasn't a jumper, but the fence was easy for him, though she knew it still made Tristan worry. It would be a quick brushing, and she was glad to be nimble with tack, as tea sounded heavenly.

Rolling his eyes as the fence was leapt again, Tristan moved to the shop's entrance, levering open one of the large double doors. "Now that everyone has pie on their minds, shall I give you the brief tour and we can adjourn to the house?"

Attention being brought back to the business at hand, specifically that she would be able to peruse Tristan's broom collection, and Gwen's eyes lit with focused interest again. "A brief tour, yes," she answered. As she stepped into the room and saw the walls full of displayed brooms, she added, "and possibly another time in which to explore further, perchance?." Gwen noticed a handful just from a quick glance that she'd like examine, possibly fly; for another day though as tea with Tristan and Regan sounded more than agreeable after flying all morning.

Tristan suppressed a chuckle at Gwen's almost childlike hopefulness, showing a genial smile as he gestured around the room. "Certainly. I don't doubt you'll see a fair bit of this place once we're into actual manufacture, and really..." he paused, calculating the absoluteness of his intended statement, "if you've questions, business, whatnot... you're welcome most any time I'm in residence. I can't promise anything like a schedule, mind, but Ari or Dorus can tell you if I'm on the grounds if you Floo first." It was not an offer he'd extend to many at all, but even in other designers he'd rarely found anyone with as much interest in and knowledge of brooms as Gwen had shown already, and she wasn't the type to be in his way if he was working. Signs of a beautiful partnership, as it were.

Gwen pulled her gaze from Tristan's large workroom to the man himself, a little surprised at his offer though she didn't let it show. Their acquaintance had been relatively short thus far, but she was quite sure he didn't extend such an overture to many people; it wasn't something she was inclined towards herself, either.

"Thank you Tristan," she replied, mind already going over how favorable an arrangement it truly was, "a very generous proposal. Particularly beneficial given that my schedule can be rather erratic at times." Gwen's lips curled into the smallest of smiles then. "I do hope you realize that you've given consent for me to indulge, when it suits me, a keen passion of mine."

"I'd noticed such an interest, yes," Tristan teased, smirking as he leaned back, elbows propped on the worktop. "And I can't imagine your schedule being any odder than mine, so we ought to be evenly matched, there."

"It's not as if you sleep," Regan muttered, ducking in the barn door, brushing flyaway wisps of hair away from her face, "so there's that. Mallow's happy." She scampered over to Tristan, twining both her arms around one of his where it rested on the wooden counter, laying her cheek against his bicep and batting her eyelashes up at him. "And it's tea time," she added pointedly, hinting at a pout. "Feed me."

Gwen's smile slipped into something more open as she watched Regan flit into the room. Though she'd never been much like Tristan's little sister, the current playful interplay reminded her of when she was young and had used similar tactics on Joscelin.

"I find I'm quite ready for refreshments as well," Gwen added, eyes bright with amusement. "I do believe Regan and I have earned it." She briefly met Regan's eyes on her last statement with a small grin, watching the girl pinken as she did so, and turned her attention back to Tristan a moment later so as not to further unsettle her.

Returning Gwen's amusement in a smile, Tristan allowed Regan to tug him down to her height, his expression going thoughtful as she whispered a question to him. "Yes, all right," he said after a moment, checking all but a trace of exasperation. "Go and tell Dorus, then."

"Thank you!" Regan exulted brightly, stretching onto her tiptoes to kiss her brother's cheek before turning and sprinting out the open door, up the slope toward the manor itself.

Tristan sighed lightly, shrugging at Gwen and motioning her toward the door ahead of himself. "I suppose I ought to be grateful that she's not difficult to please, at any rate. She did manage an admirable job of keeping herself busy all morning."

Watching the young girl sprint out of the workshop with more than a trace of curiosity, Gwen made for the entrance when Tristan indicated to do so. At his comment, she glanced up at him with a wry smile. "I think my brother would most definitely encourage that sentiment, as not all little sisters are easily pleased, not in the least," she replied, lips twitching.

Pausing as a thought occurred to her, feeling Tristan stop just in time right behind her, Gwen dug into the bag slung over her shoulder. "Before we leave the shop, I actually have something for you," she said as she searched. Finding the small box she was looking for, Gwen lifted the catch and pulled out a miniature broom. Using her wand, she charmed the broom back to full size, a very large full size.

Turning, she offered the broom to Tristan. "It's a Romanian Dracul 66. A particular favorite of my brother's and, as you can see, for a much larger flier than myself. I enjoy it for cruising, but I thought you might want to try it yourself. They're not commonly seen outside of Romania and I didn't think you'd have had the chance to examine one before." Gwen grinned then. "Plus I thought you might enjoy the flight."

A genuinely appreciative smile appearing as Gwen held the supersize broom out to him, Tristan nodded. "I've heard of them, but never had one in front of me." He took the handle from her, admiring the heft of the thing as he turned it in his hands, thinking on the power it likely boasted. He'd not be able to have a go with it until Regan was back at school, as the thought of him in the air tended to make her nervous, but it was a lovely thing to be in possession of, for a while. "Thank you," he said sincerely, returning his eyes to Gwen's. "I'll be sure to let you know what I think of it, when I've had the chance at a run."

He stepped aside to place the Dracul carefully in an empty rack, noting the size differential between it and even his own broom with a bit of a smirk. "Tea, then," he suggested. "Much as I'd like to become better acquainted with that broom, it's best not to keep Regan waiting when she's hungry. It's the only time she pouts."

"You're fortunate she's so good," Gwen commented as she headed out the door of the shop. "I'm quite sure Joscelin could go on an extended tangent about my general disposition when we were younger, likely now as well, even." Most thoughts of her childhood were tied to Joscelin, but every now and again Gwen was reminded that Joscelin was her childhood as their parents had been very much absent, especially concerning anything to do with her. She didn't note a strong parental influence in the Bole household either, and added that little mystery piece to the puzzle that was Tristan, and now Regan as well.

"Very much so. She always has been; I only pray it endures through these last few teenage years." Tristan snickered as they started up the mild hill toward the house. "Perhaps I'll have opportunity to engage him sometime when you're occupied elsewhere, as I can only think that would be a highly informative conversation," he ribbed gently, infinitely amused by the idea of stories of Gwen's childhood. "Would I be correct in inferring, then, that you were somewhat less well-behaved than Regan is?"

Gwen nodded at Tristan's comment concerning Regan, adding, "I don't think a young witch's teen years are really easy on anyone," especially when one who doesn't have a mother or sister to guide her through Gwen thought, reflecting back to when she was younger. She'd done well enough on her own, but some guidance would have been nice, whether she chose to follow or not.

As they came up the steps to the house, Gwen glanced over her shoulder at Tristan with an amused smile. "I'm not sure how thrilled I am with the idea of you and Joscelin conversing, especially about me, though I do think you'd find him entertaining. You do remember he was a Gryffindor, yes?"

The doors opened at a wave of Tristan's hand; being Master of the estate bore a few useful powers, though he'd much rather have had his father back at the time he'd discovered them. "It hadn't escaped me, but he's a relation of yours, and you seem fond of him... he can't be completely unbearable." He stepped up beside Gwen with a wink, realizing he'd need to lead them to their destination, as it was her first visit to Ivy's Run.

"You would be surprised," Gwen murmured in response to Tristan's assertion concerning her brother. He was positively insufferable, was what he was. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when Tristan winked, mostly because it was habitual to do so around her brother - especially when she dragged him to social functions where there would be flocks of young witches.

"I promise a proper tour of the house at some point, as well, but for now I'll just name things as we walk. Thus: the entryway, through which we've passed; the calling parlor, formal dining room, and kitchens are off in the other direction, and this way lies the ladies' parlor," he gestured at an open door, behind which sat an immaculately furnished and rarely used room. "This is the sitting room, where we were to have taken tea, and finally," as they came to the end of a short corridor, "the solar, also known as my sister's personal playroom," he finished wryly, pushing open the louvred doors to the brightly-lit little sanctuary. Dorus had obligingly set the warming charms and laid out a lavish tea, and Regan, scrubbed and attired as she preferred in a long, pale dress, sat primly on her favorite ottoman, looking pleased with herself.

Gwen gave a cursory glance to every room Tristan pointed out, noting everything was tastefully done. When they came to the solar, Gwen cast her gaze about the completely windowed room, a genuinely delighted smile pulling at her lips. Bright eyes came to rest on the small girl last, charmed as ever by expressions and demeanor. "Thank you for sharing, Regan. This room is stunning. Had we had such a place at Tretower, I'd have taken it for my own as well."

Face alight with happiness, her hands fluttering to beckon them nearer, Regan glanced around at her most beloved place in all Ivy's Run, mirroring Gwen's smile. "You're quite welcome. I thought, after I'd seen the view at your flat, that you might like it here. It's not the same, but I'm rather fond of it. The hill overlooks... Mamá's gardens..." she explained, faltering slightly, her eyes flicking to Tristan, "and it's perfectly riotous with color in the spring. Still a bit dead now, though," she concluded softly. "Dorus did coffee too, Trist," she indicated, nodding in the direction of the tea tray.

"It's absolutely lovely," Gwen commented, her own voice going soft as Regan seemed to deflate a bit. It had been at the mention of her mother and Gwen had to wonder what the story was there. She didn't speak of her in the past tense and yet she was obviously still absent, the thought making Gwen frown internally. She didn't wish anything like what she'd experienced as a child on anyone, especially this glowing, pixie-like girl.

Taking a seat near Regan, she caught her eye before continuing, hoping to distract the young girl from the soft melancholy that seemed to have tinged her happiness. "I've a fascinating view of the world from my flat, but you've got natural beauty here and I can imagine it's absolutely breathtaking when everything's in bloom, yes? I'm particularly fond of roses myself; appealing to the eye, but dangerous to touch. My Grandmum kept a garden of them at Tretower when I was very young, but they're quite wild now, more beautiful for it, I think."

"Mm," Regan agreed, "Like party confetti all over the grounds, reds and pinks, yellow, lavender... we've roses, too, daisies and bluebells, forget-me-nots, snowdrops, for me," she paused with a fond smile at her brother. "Everything's wild here, really, or it is now... no one's gardened... not..." Sighing forcefully, frustrated, she tipped her head at Tristan, her eyes wide and soft with a delicate question. Can I? May I?

Tristan glanced between his sister, knowing what she wanted, and Gwen, lips set in a neutral line. The basic facts were nothing not easily found in conversation with anyone who'd known his family. The difference was in Regan telling it, but Gwen had proven herself careful with his Snowdrop thus far, and it was never something asked for sharing before. He inclined his head slightly, assent, and sat back to observe.

Releasing a penned breath, Regan nodded slowly, turning back to Gwen, though her eyes could not stay fixed there. "It was all Mamá's... no one's touched it since she left, after Father was killed. So it's gone a bit feral and creeping, all but along the paths, and those are guarded with roses, more than not. It's still beautiful, though, just... as you said; a bit dangerous."

Though she didn't show it by word or expression, Gwen's heart skipped a beat at Regan's explanation. It was obviously something she wasn't apt to share normally, either, if the look exchanged between siblings was anything to go by. But she knew what it was like to ... not be wanted.

Pushing down the feelings she'd not experienced in a long, long time, Gwen focused back on Regan, weighing her thoughts and words. "I've been told that my mother was fond of walking the gardens at Tretower before I was born, but I've never had the chance to ask her," Gwen offered carefully, aware that Tristan was listening, but more concerned with the small girl next to her. "Perhaps we should wander the pathways sometime to try and discover its allure, though I think the roses and snowdrops," she added with a small smile, having noted their importance earlier, "tell their own stories."

Regan's mind raced along Gwen's words as they were spoken, forwards and backwards once they were out, and regarded the mesmerizing woman with brightening clarity. Left, too, then. How odd... not her, surely? It had been said, though, left to be deciphered as she had, as she knew Tristan would just as easily, and Regan wanted to reach her fingers out to the slim hand lying near hers, but wasn't at all sure she'd be allowed. She curled them into her palm instead, nodding up at Gwen. "I'd like that. I can name everything that grows here, and I know each one's home, or, at least, what they used to be." She knew the snowdrops best of all, and their story. Tristan had taken her out to plant them the spring she was four, at the very edges so as not to incur their mother's wrath over meddling in her place.

So like everything between Regan and Mamá, Tristan mused as Gwen mentioned the snowdrops again. Hovering just outside of notice, hoping to be included but knowing it perhaps wiser to remain unseen. He wondered at Gwen's candor, though not deeply, as Regan's own simple matter-of-factness often engendered like honesty in others, whether intended or not. His thoughts were echoed in Regan's words, and he was caught between a smile and something less pleasant, choosing to show only the 'listening' face he'd adopted from the start.

"Just at the outside, the snowdrops are, since we added them. The roses are all through everything, but they're good fighters. Everything else survives where it likes best, or where it can." Her eyes had gone slightly unfocused with her words, and it took a quick shake of her head to pull her back to meet Gwen's gaze.

As Regan met her eyes again, Gwen smiled fully at her. The young girl was delicate of nature and she'd shared something that hurt a bit to think on; she was handling herself beautifully, though Gwen knew it personally to be a difficult thing to do. "We shall see in the spring, but I do believe all that untamed color is an excellent story in and of itself. Uncared for, yet more stunning as it all twines together to make something more."

Intrigued by the idea of Gwen still being around in the spring, Regan nodded. "A different story than what might have been, but still there... not finished until everything's gone." She smiled faintly, daring the risk of stretching her hand out until her fingertips just met Gwen's, though she knew it to be bad manners. "Thank you," she murmured levelly, knowing even without Tristan's careful watch on them that a trust had been freely given.

Gwen's smile softened at Regan's words and she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, the action saying more than Gwen could ever verbalize. She'd known this girl a very short time, but Gwen felt ... if she'd ever had a younger sister, she'd have wanted her to be something like Regan. Pulling her gaze and hand away as she settled more fully into her own chair, Gwen glanced over at Tristan, hoping that she'd not overstepped her bounds in any way concerning his sister.

Nodding minutely at Gwen, rather pleased with the conversation he'd opted out of, if it were going to happen, Tristan returned himself to a sitting position from his lounge. A crooked grin creased his features as Regan's stomach growled softly, her hand flying to cover the offending noise, cheeks staining with a blush. "Eat," he directed in a chuckle, reaching out to pour tea for his sister, an eyebrow arched at Gwen in question. "Tea? Coffee? Help yourself to everything else, of course. Dorus has outdone herself, as usual."

"Annie sent up jam," Regan supplied, busily nibbling a blueberry scone with an air of deep contentment. "Blackberry, and heather-honey. Oh, and there's cream. Jack let me help milk the goats this morning."

"Coffee please," Gwen replied, selecting a few pieces of fruit and a single small sandwich. She was generally indifferent about food, though there were some things she truly enjoyed and savored. It amused her to watch Regan get little satisfactions out of her food selections, though it appalled her a little that the young girl liked touching ... those things, goats.

Accepting the small china cup from Tristan, Gwen took a sip of the full-bodied drink. Murmuring her satisfaction, she took another sip and set the cup down, bringing heavily sated eyes to Tristan with a small grin. "Flying and excellent coffee. Spoil me like this too often and I'll not want to leave," she teased.

Lips twisting at Gwen's laden taunt, Tristan dipped his head in seeming acceptance. "If I'm going to drink it, I want it done properly. The same concept applies to brooms. Also to scotch, but that's neither hand, at the moment." He glanced to Regan, surprised that there'd been no commentary on Gwen's choice of beverage, and had to smile. "We'd usually be learning how barbaric it is to drink black coffee, but someone appears to have borrowed Mallow's sweet tooth."

Moving her eyes to Tristan, past where she'd been watching lovely golden honey drip from the last bite of scone she was about to eat, Regan shook her head. "I was quite happy being ignored, thank you. You may indulge in your caffeine-rich tannic acid in peace; there are more pleasant things to occupy my attention, currently. And it isn't nice to malign poor Mallow where he can't defend himself," she chided, not quite holding onto the effect as she dissolved into a grin, giving up and licking a dot of honey from her finger.

She had been thoroughly entertained by Tristan's weighted comments, but after listening to Regan and watching her antics, Gwen chuckled, full and rich warmth overflowing in her genuine amusement. "Caffeine-rich tannic acid, indeed," she commented idly after her laughter had tapered off.

"It is," Regan insisted absently, a smile still controlling her features as she fractioned an egg sandwich before Tristan could demand she eat something not made entirely of sugar. "You should do that more often," she observed aloud, enjoying the memory-echoes of Gwen's laugh. "It's very pretty." It was a bassoon laugh, too, low and smooth, mahogany tones, and Regan had a small grin of triumph to herself. She loved being able to choose correctly the first time she heard someone.

Gwen's lips twitched at Regan's assessments, but murmured a "thank you" not a moment later. There were very few people that could pull such a laugh from her, Joscelin at the top of that list when he wasn't being a bastard, and now it seemed Regan and her brother were to be added. Something to think on, to be sure, though she was satisfied to settle back into the cushioned chair and sip on the 'tannic acid,' a small exhale of contentment leaving her a moment later as the new position put her in a direct line of afternoon winter sunshine peeking through the barren trees outside the windows.

Tristan caught his sister's eye as a pleased little expression crossed her face, masked by her deliberate consumption of the sandwich she'd taken to placate him. He didn't expect to soon hear the end of this new development, as Regan had been quick to point out the many intricacies of interaction from their last 'visit' with Gwen. Willing, in the moment, to relax in the companionable silence, though noting with a degree of surprise that their current situation was no less comfortable than he'd found regular tea with just Regan to be, he reclined in his seat, regarding his company and windows in turn.

Finished with her 'real' food, Regan sampled an apple slice, then removed her cup and saucer to the table, rearranging herself into a cozy curl on her ottoman. Had Gwen not been there, a nap would be in order, after her already-full day of cold-weather exercise, but from her position both her brother and their guest were in her line of sight, easily enough occupation for her busy mind, though internal reminders not to stare were frequent.

There was a quiet ease to their company that Gwen didn't find often, and though she could feel both siblings studying her in turn, it wasn't uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, in fact, as Gwen found herself as content as a lazy cat twitching its tail in the heat of the summer sun.

Taking a few last sips of her coffee, Gwen set the china cup back on the saucer and glanced between the siblings, catching Regan's eye with a smile and causing the young girl to blush before turning to Tristan. "It was gracious of you both to have me for tea in your home, but I find that I'd rather not intrude on your courtesy for too long." Her smile curling into a small smirk, she continued, "as I'm sure that will be happening often enough as our business truly gets underway."

"S'not intruding," Regan said softly, stretching and pushing herself back up to sit, legs still tucked under her. "It's lovely having you here, though I suppose you have other things to which you ought be attending." She paused, tilting her head in Gwen's direction, a hopeful smile in place. "Will you visit again, sometime when I'm home? It's very hard to get tired of Tristan, or I think so, even if you'll be here often..."

Regarding his sister with a mixture of disbelief and mirth, his mouth working for a moment before settling on a perplexed sort of smile, Tristan propped his chin on a fist and waited for Gwen's reaction. An interesting day, indeed.

Turning her attention to the small girl at her soft words, Gwen considered her a moment before briefly nodding her head. "I'd like very much to visit with you again if that's pleasing to everyone involved," Gwen offered, eyes shifting to Tristan a moment later.

A nod was readily given in permission. "I meant my offer of welcome; one of the elves can generally tell you when Regan will be at home, if you can't reach me directly." It was a rare enough thing for Regan to take to new people, nevermind as thoroughly as she seemed to be enamored of Gwen, and he couldn't fathom Gwen having terribly many associations like his sister. "I suppose I can always hare off to work if you do happen to get 'tired' of me, and leave you two to visit," he said wryly, brow rising at Regan, who giggled.

Inclining her head in acknowledgement, Gwen turned to Regan a moment later, small smile tugging at her lips. "It seems we shall be seeing each other again, Miss Regan." Her eyes shifted to Tristan then before she continued. "And if you 'hare off to work' i may have to follow. I can admit that I could spend an age in your workroom, so it's in the best interest of your sister and I truly enjoying ourselves, Tristan, for you to be nothing but agreeable."

Laughing at both Gwen's admission and Regan's fervent little nod, Tristan accepted amiably, "Point taken. I rarely make concerted attempts to be disagreeable, so we ought to fare well enough. Perhaps we'll have some music, next time," he suggested, watching as Regan's response to the idea moved from nervous to anticipatory almost immediately. She played for him often, but others almost never outside of recitals; their parents exactly once.

"Music?" Gwen asked, turning to Regan with bright interest. "What do you play, then?"

"Oh, yes," Regan confirmed with shy smile. "Cello. Tristan's fault, really, but I've loved it since I was very small." She was a bit surprised at her brother for bringing it up, but didn't mind. She'd been wondering if Gwen would care to hear her play, and it seemed she had her answer, the one she'd hoped for, as well.

"It would be absolutely lovely to hear you play," Gwen replied with a smile. "I played the lyre when I was young, but I've not for years. My brother enjoys the symphony, as do I, but he's rarely been close enough for us to enjoy such things together. Needless to say," she said, expression wry, "I'll look forward to hearing you."

Beaming prettily, Regan leaned forward, caught up in the new thread of conversation. "I adore the symphony... the ballet, too, but it's so pretty to watch all the instruments together, hear all the sound at once... so many different voices and tones, wood ones and water ones and air ones," her hands nimbly illustrated the shapes of these sounds as she experienced them, slowing and dissolving into a fidget in her lap as she realized she'd launched into 'crazy music babble' as Lissette would call it, her eyes dropping away from Gwen's. "Well... I'll play, anyway, if you like."

Gwen had been thoroughly enjoying watching Regan talk about music, something she was obviously very passionate about, perhaps like she was about flying even. However, something had dampened in the girl and Gwen reached out, squeezing Regan's hand gently as she said, "I'd like it very much."

The gesture was not lost on Tristan, who watched Regan's returning smile and acquiescence with interest. Gwen, from his observation, did not touch people casually, but she'd moved to comfort Regan almost instantly; no small thing for either of them, as she'd pulled Regan back out of a mask. "I can sometimes convince her to tolerate the opera," he interjected quietly. "There's generally plenty of art available when we happen to be in Paris."

"Not just tolerate," Regan corrected, her eyes flicking to her brother. "I enjoy the opera, but it isn't the symphony."

Gwen's gaze slid from brother to sister and back again before another, smaller chuckle slipped out. "I dare say this is an old argument for my brother and me as well. He's rather fond of the symphony, but I can never get him to enter an opera house." Eyes dancing with amusement, she continued, "of his own free will, anyway."

"That sounds like a story," Tristan commented, eyes matching the spark in Gwen's. He'd have to find out this brother's drinking preferences, at some point. The information would likely prove both highly entertaining and completely priceless. "Regan's right, though, she's very accommodating as to our outings," he deferred, as his sister knew full well that she was terribly spoiled, and very nearly always refrained from acting like it.

"Oh, one of many stories," Gwen grinned, still in good spirits. "I can't say that Joscelin and I are affable to each other as often as you both are."

"A shame," came the thoughtful reply, the light still high in Tristan's gaze as he considered Gwen's words, "though if he's as... spirited as you are, and a Gryffindor as well, I can imagine there being a few sparks along the way." His smile belied the light tease, catching sight of Regan holding in a giggle.


SUMMARY: Tristan has Gwen fly some brooms for further research, and then they have tea with Regan.