Roy will not remember meeting a disheveled Geoffrey several years ago.
At that time, she didn't recognize him at all, only mistook the poor guy curled up on the grass as a servant of the manor. After all, his clothes were old, stained with blood and shredded, impossible to discern his identity.
And Geoffrey himself would never reveal this past.
It was not a particularly important experience. Insignificant, not worth mentioning.
The night grew deep.
Rocky waited for Roy's return in the White Rose Garden, and the two sat together for a cup of tea.
They talked about breaking off the engagement, chatted about the anomalies at the mansion, and the suspicious Vivian. They've dispatched people, but no useful information has been received yet.
The Vivian they spoke of was staggering through the night, fleeing.
She didn't go home. In her current state, she couldn't possibly go home. She didn't know where to go, perhaps to Frank's Red House or some other place.
