Find Polly

You slip silently through an open side door into the mansion. The interior is quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen, towards the back of the house. Your footsteps are practiced and soundless as you glide down the hall - experienced in stealth from long years as a thief and a robber. Passing by portraits of Lady Evellyn and her noble forebears and the occasional opulent vase, you reach the entryway into the kitchens, which is clad in alternating tiles of black and white.

There you spot Polly, Evellyn’s housemaid, working at the counter and oblivious to your presence. You announce your presence with a gentle clearing of the throat: Her posture immediately changes, as she straightens up and spins to face you, her eyes wide with sudden realization as her gaze lands on you. From her startled, flushed expression you can tell the memories of Lady Evellyn’s… disheveled state at the hands of your antics are still fresh in her mind, and you see her involuntarily clutching her apron tighter, as if shielding herself.

You let your own gaze linger on her, your lips curling into a teasing smile: ”Polly, you’re looking lovely today. How about a sandwich? Or perhaps an omelet? I could really use a bite to eat after all that running around.”

You look deep into Polly’s eyes, and sense the familiar mixture of apprehension and an unexpected flicker of excitement. You can almost read her like an open book, seeing line by line the tumultuous thoughts swirling behind her eyes. It is the same tempest you are certain you can see rage within Evellyn’s gaze, though she hates it and pushes against it with all her might. But while Polly is clearly apprehensive, there’s an undercurrent of secret thrill in her expression. She recalls the humiliations endured by her mistress, and wonders what kinds you might impose or if you’ll let her dignity be. Her fantasies of what might unfold in this kitchen in the next few moments seem to blur the line between fear and desire, making any ideas you might have seem almost tame compared to the whirlwind of her own imagination.