<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg)] </div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Agatha Dunwich<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Agatha Dunwich’s Home<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Elizabeth, Christian and Onneca<br/><hr/>Agatha was busy in the kitchen flittering about from stove, cupboard and back again.  She wasn’t concentrating on the song so much as letting the part of her brain that was constantly running be preoccupied by it.  There was the occasional bang of a pot or a cupboard and the sizzle and pop of bubbling water to accompany her song.  There was a tiny smile on her lips and light in her eye as she wove her own little magic in the small kitchen.<br/><br/>She had left the shop in Maria’s capable hands and left early to start dinner, which consisted of a chicken roasted on a spit outside and basted with lemon, butter, rosemary, sage and thyme.  There were artichokes that had been steamed over the stove and a bushel of multicolored squash, carrots and onions waiting to be chopped and tossed into a waiting frying pan.  She had just pulled a sheet of hand rolled biscuits from the over when she heard the familiar sound of a harmonica joining her song.<br/><br/>Agatha looked over her shoulder at Christian as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe and smiled.  Her cheeks were flush from the heat of the kitchen and she wore a white apron over a comfortable plain green dress, it was one of her favorites.  No hat adorned her head, but she had left her hair pinned in place to keep it from ruining their food.  Agatha continued to sing, her lilt adding to the song instead of taking away from it, unlike others.  She had attempted to sing Camptown Races once for Christian around a campfire.  The coyotes had sounded better.  Much of Agatha’s accent had been taught out of her, but it was still there in certain words, or when she got angry or very tired or when she sang.<br/><br/>“Howdy, Aggy. Hell, I’ve missed that,”<br/><br/>“Sometimes I do too.” She said and put down the hot sheet of biscuits to give Christian a warm hug.  “Sometimes I do too.”  The time she spent with Christian had been a whirlwind, an adventure most young women dreamed of, but the reality of that life was much harsher than the dime store novels would have you believe.  Agatha could read Christian better than most and the peace in his eyes made her happy and sad.  Perhaps if she were different she could have drawn him away from his quest for the man in black, given him a reason to stay and a warm bed to come home too, but she was not different.  His chiseled features and strong jaw did not stir her in the way olive skin and fine bones did.  For both there sakes life may have been better if things had been different.<br/><br/>"Agatha Dunwich, the things I find out about you still amaze me. Such a Lovely singing voice and you have kept it hidden.  You must be Christian. I am very pleased to meet you.  Agatha has spoken of you often though she never said how handsome you were. Agatha Dear perhaps you could introduce me."<br/><br/>Agatha stepped back and blushed a little at the compliment from Elizabeth.  “It’s meant only for Irish songs I’m afraid.” She answered lightly at the radiant English woman.  “And maybe I was keeping that my very own secret.” Agatha answered playfully taking Christian’s arm in mock possessiveness.  Agatha was sure that is how other ladies would react if a woman as beautiful as Elizabeth showed an interest in their man.  In truth she would be quite happy if Elizabeth took an interest in Christian.  A woman like Elizabeth could bring a man to heel as quick as you like, a woman too for that matter if she was so inclined, but Agatha didn’t think she was.<br/><br/>“Christian, we are going to have some house guests for a few days.  Elizabeth and Onneca are going to be staying with us until some of this nastiness with picking a new sheriff has been settled.” She informed her friend as if it was nothing more than family visiting.  “But yes where are my manners.  Christian Specter this is Lady Elizabeth Doyle, owner and proprietor of The London Royal Apothecary and one of my best and closest friends.   Lady Elizabeth, this is Christian Specter, lawless gunman, intimidating grump and a big softly when you get to know him.  Just don’t call him Spooky.  He doesn’t like it much, isn’t that right Spooky.”  Agatha was obviously in a good mood.  “Now why don’t you two get to know one another while I take Elizabeth's bag upstairs and finish up dinner?”<br/>