<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mc5777GoYi1r0gffeo1_500.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>J. B. Goudeau<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Locaxtion:</strong>The Golden Mare<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Virginia (directly);  Marguerite, Miss Greene, Harley, Edward<br/><hr/><br/>He swung off the buckboard with his carpet bag in hand when the mules stopped for half a breath in front of the Golden Mare and he didn't spare a glance back as the scarred hulk of a driver snapped the reins to get them moving again. He could trust the hired help to take care of the details: putting the wagon up at the warehouse, returning the mules to the livery. Goudeau smiled at the darkening sky, relieved to slide the glasses off his nose at last. The day's business had reached a most satisfactory conclusion and now a night of pleasurable possibilities stretched before him.<br/><br/>The proper hotel was the proverbial sight for his sore eyes. He took the steps easy, knocking the dust from his boots before pushing open the expensive, glass-paneled doors. It wasn't the first time he'd darkened them with his presence, but it had been a few months since he'd felt the need to indulge in a stay at the Mare. This last trip to Shan Fan had been a little more exciting than he preferred; the best way to make up for bad weather and stubborn cargo was with a good meal and a long, hot bath.<br/><br/>Agreeable company was also on the list, but such things were best left until full dark.<br/><br/>Goudeau paused by the door to let his eyes adjust to the lamplight and marked the figures at the dining tables with a wry smile. My, my. One slip of a soldier up again four pretty women, one of whom was none other than Miss Greene. Poor boy didn't stand a snowball's chance in The Maze.<br/><br/>On the other hand, maybe the pup deserved whatever shit rolled downhill and hit him in the face. Goudeau's smile darkened as he studied the pale, golden-haired goddess the soldier had turned his back on to go sniff around Miss Greene's charges. Was that truly the Whateley girl?<br/><br/>Work-worn as he was, a gentleman could hardly let this stand. Catching the eye of a porter, Goudeau left his bag to be collected while he strode towards the dining alcove across the lobby. He came to settle at the table nearest the little blonde girl, just over her right shoulder. Removing his hat, he leaned back just a touch - close enough that she could hear him when he spoke, yet not so close that anyone else would know he addressed her.<br/><br/>"You are surely an angel of mercy, mademoiselle, to have taken such kind interest in accompanying that poor, blind soldier to dinner."