<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/65/Judgehawkins.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Judge Warwick<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Courthouse: Judge Warwick's office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny, Elisabeth Boyle<br/><hr/>The Judge chuckled.<strong>“You sound as though I ought to consider that a threat,”</strong>he mused, playfully, half tempted to wink at her.<strong>“And you are quite welcome.”</strong>He watched her juggle the two large tomes and third smaller one.<strong>“Au revoir.”</strong>He gave a small nod, expecting her to be on her way, then surprised to find there was another beautiful woman waiting in the courtroom.<br/><br/>There was something in the water, in Gomorra.  Well – that was unlikely, as it was mostly filled with blood and sharks and ghostrock dust, none of which the Judge imagined contributed to a town full of beautiful women.  But certainly there was something that drew them to the town.<br/><br/>He looked to Margeurite.<strong>“That is Lady Elisabeth Anne Boyle, formerly of England, and a local businesswoman.  And I would be happy to entertain each and every question you might have about torts and precedent, but I’m afraid you’ll find me perpetually bewildered by the subject of women’s couture.  You’ll have to ask her.”</strong><br/><br/>He raised a hand.<strong>”Lady Boyle.  A pleasure to see you again.  May I introduce you to Mrs. Margeurite Landry, of Baltimore?”</strong>He returned the introductions, reversed.  He offered Lady Boyle a courteous peck upon the cheek, done with a grace that made it paternal over excessively familiar.  He still smelled of drink, though between the tea and the breakfast any hint of inebriation had mostly passed.  The smell alone was odd enough; by the standards of Gomorra, the Judge was a teetotaler.<br/>