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An Opinion of the House of Cards

Essex House. Lady Moldylocks’ latest venture. It was partly a hotel, and partly a restaurant; and everywhere you looked, you could see bits and pieces of the lady in the decorations. Here and there, she had placed beautiful paintings, framed collections, and strange trophies. The hallways were patrolled by 8 beautiful hounds, all of them shipped over from Lady M.’s London estate. She was selling that estate soon enough, at least that was the plan. When she does, she would be free of England thereafter, leaving her to happily reside in Babbage, in the company of only her hired staff and her permanent tenants.

Hyde was one of those tenants; Or he was so in technicality. Like he had done in London, he had arranged to rent a small lodging overseen by a landlady who didn’t mind him coming and going at odd hours. This was to make sure he had an address to give in case anyone asked for it.

There were differences in Babbage, however. Firstly, Hyde’s room was up in the attic. This was the only room Lady M. had left for permanent residents. Not that Hyde really cared much, as long as it was suitable for sleeping. Besides, more privacy for him. Secondly, the hotel itself was right next to Murgam Asylum. Now, this was the second establishment Moldylocks had set up in the area, which was very peculiar indeed.

Thirdly, Moldylocks was the landlady. The landlady of the apartment complex in Soho was a crotchety old woman, clearly from the bowels of the lower class, whom Hyde had not bothered acquaint himself with outside of his infrequent comings and goings. But Moldylocks was a remarkable Lady. To the casual observer, she seemed to be constantly blending many completely different aspects of life and flaunting them in her own sweet way. She had the charming grace of the aristocrat and the bawdy humor of the tavern wench; She would put replicas of famous works of classical art on the same wall as a collection of used wine bottles and a mounted goat head. Even her ladylike charms were contrasted by her unruly hair and habits.

Hyde knew Lady Moldylocks. Unlike the anonymous old woman in Soho, Hyde had been frequenting her bar ever since her first attempt at what used to be called The Loony Bin. And before that, in the form of Jekyll, he had spoken to her about her practice in the field of psychiatry before it all literally went down in flames. Now, months later, Moldylocks had come to view him, in both states of mind and body, as two good friends she could talk to when she was in need of consoling. Likewise, he had found himself confiding in her about the previous trouble with Jekyll’s will and Hyde’s occasionally violent demeanor.

That being said, he couldn’t trust her with the raw truth of his condition. He had observed that, when she was heavily intoxicated, or had slipped a certian drug in her own drink, she started to gossip about the deaths of her previous husbands and other dark corners of her past. If Moldylocks couldn’t keep her own secrets well, how could she keep his?

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