Mr. Toohey

      It began on a Saturday. Elsa came home to find her parents in an uncharacteristically somber mood. Her father calmly asked her to join himself and her mother in the sitting room. He was not cross and he was not quite sad; if Elsa had to describe his mood, she would have said that he looked resigned. But that was just silly; this was her father, ever jolly and loved by all.
      There was a stranger sitting by the fire when Elsa entered. He did not rise, he did not smile, he did not even incline his head in greeting; he merely leveled a challenging gaze in her direction. What disturbed Elsa more than the man's crassitudes was the fact that he was sitting in her father's chair.
      The tall, wingback, paisley chair was her father's one indulgence, his only outward sign of pride. He doted on that chair, carefully arranging it in perfect relation to the fire. When Elsa was younger, she would curl up in his lap as he sat in the chair, Tak at his feet, reading to her. To see the rude man sitting in her father's chair, displaying such biting arrogance was nearly unbearable for her. She returned his challenging gaze with the iciest stare her sweet eyes could muster.
      "Elsa, this is Mr. Toohey, he has been sent by The Peoples' Council to meet with you." Her father said humbly as he took a seat beside her mother on the sofa.
      The man stared at her for another moment before breaking the silence, "Come here, girl, let me take a look at you." Elsa walked stiffly across the sitting room, longing to disobey but fearful of what retributions would be taken out on her family if she did. Mr. Toohey looked her up and down with a lecherous eye. "You're far too pretty for a girl your age. Does it cause problems amongst your schoolmates?"
      "Problems, sir?" Elsa replied through clenched teeth.
      "With the other girls. Do they not resent your obscene beauty?" Elsa was so surprised by this that she momentarily dropped her icy guard,
      "No, sir, I've never been called beautiful before. I've always considered myself rather ordinary. My friend, Dor, is far prettier than I." Mr. Toohey frowned at her,
      "So you have your own group of beautiful friends, have you?" Does that not strike you as elitist?" Elsa's shock continued, threatening to erupt into outrage.
      "Never, sir; our group is based upon similar interests and friendship, not ascetics."
      "So you admit to having a private club, excluding the other children." Before Elsa could protest, he continued, ignoring her open mouth, "Tell me, girl, do the other members of your club speak in the same pretentious manner?"
      "Pretentious manner?" Elsa squeaked in outrage.
      "Your vocabulary and sentence structure are above the acceptable level for your age group, where exactly did you learn to speak so?"
      "I have read every book in the school library and I listen to adults when they speak." Elsa neatly sidestepped the question. Mr. Toohey hurumphed in disapproval and muttered something about placing limits at the library.
      "What about boys, are you flaunting yourself in front of them? I hear that you spend considerable time with the Yggson boy." Her father leapt up from the sofa, red-faced.
      "Mr. Toohey! I must protest, she is twelve years old." Mr. Toohey turned on him with a look which commanded instant obeisance.
      "I am perfectly aware of the girl's age. What confuses me is where someone with such a sordid family history finds the audacity to speak to a member of The Peoples' Council with such insubordination!" Elsa's father sat back down, shocked and chastised. Elsa looked at her father in terror. He was one of the most respected members of the community; no one had ever dared to speak to him in such tones. Her curious mind also couldn't help but wonder what sordid family history she might have.
      That curiosity was quickly put to rest wit Mr. Toohey's next sentence. "Now, where is this dog that is causing such a fuss?" Elsa froze. Her immediate fear had been that Mr. Toohey had come for Tak, but his pugnacious manner had distracted her. Unfortunately, this distraction had left her unprepared for the question. In a flustered panic, she froze, jumped, smiled, and proceeded to give the most wretched impression of nonchalance ever performed.
      "Dog? What dog?" Elsa hiccoughed out several octaves higher than necessary. Mr. Toohey eyed her suspiciously; tactless though he might be, he was no fool.
      "Don't be daft, girl." Elsa hoped his impatience might have helped him overlook her pathetic display. "Show me the dog with which you are said to spend all of your time. The dog with which you have been seen speaking. The dog which has caused you and your little friends to segregate yourselves from the rest of your peers!" His lengthy explosion had given Elsa enough time to calm and compose herself. She allowed a dimwitted façade to enter into her expressions and voice.
      "Who? Tak? I'd be happy to bring him in, Mr. Toohey; but I don't think he's done all those things. He's just a regular dog." If Mr. Toohey noted the dramatic shift from precocious young lady to ditzy little girl, he showed no outward sign. Perhaps, thought Elsa, his presupposition about how young girls should act had caused him to accept this shift as natural.
      "I am still quite anxious to meet him." Mr. Toohey replied, unconsciously softening his tone in response to her demure manner.
      "Sure, no problem." Elsa batted her eyelashes just enough to look sweet without seeming inappropriate. "I'll go fetch him for you."
      "Not so fast, little lady." Mr. Toohey's momentary tolerance seemed to evaporate as soon as he glanced away from Elsa. "I will retrieve him myself. You stay right here where there is no chance of you slipping away." Elsa blinked with very convincing bemusement.
      "Of course, Mr. Toohey, whatever you think is best. Tak should be in the entrance hall, probably curled up on the rug." Mr. Toohey took a cruel looking chain from his bag and walked out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind himself.