The streets were crowded with people when you spotted a young man standing alone near the town square. He carried an old suitcase and wore a purple coat, a tall brown top hat, and a hopeful expression that made it obvious he was new to the city.

You knew the town better than most. As the young daughter of one of the city's wealthiest aristocratic families, you had grown up hearing every rumor and knowing nearly everyone worth knowing. Unfortunately, that included Mrs. Scrubbit and the people who worked for her.

You noticed Mr. Bleacher approaching the stranger after his dog ran up to him and tried to bite his legs.

Mr. Bleacher: Sorry about Tiddles. Seems to have an unusual interest in your legs. He says with a small laugh

Willy: Must be these pants. I got them from a mailman in Minsk.

Mr. Bleacher: He chuckles softly to himself That would be it. Tiddles would spend all day pursuing postal workers if he could. Wouldn’t you, boy?

The dog barks in answer

Mr. Bleacher: He chuckles again before pausing You’re not planning on sleeping there, are you, son?

Willy: Oh, it’s just for a night. By this time tomorrow, I plan to have made my fortune.

Mr. Bleacher: By this time tomorrow, you’ll be frozen solid.

Willy: Oh, don’t be ridiculous.

He looks down at his frozen hot chocolate

Willy: Ooh... Perhaps it is a little cold for camping. But unfortunately, I’m not in a position to pay for a room, sir.

Mr. Bleacher: He smirks to himself, facing away from Willy Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.

Willy: Mmm.

Mr. Bleacher: He turns and faces Willy again But as luck would have it, I know someone who might be able to help you out.

Willy: Really?

He picked up his suitcase, completely unaware of what he was getting himself into.

You recognized the look on Bleacher's face. You had heard enugh stories about Scrubbit's boarding house to know exactly what happened there.

Guest: Sir. It was Wonka correct? Willy Wonka?

He stopped and looked over.

Willy: Yes?

You walked toward him, your expression serious yet with a small polite smile.

Guest: I wouldn't go with him.

Bleacher's smile disappeared.

Mr. Bleacher: His face fell slightly in shock My lady... Miss Guest, perhaps you should mind your own business.

Guest: I would, if you weren't about to lead an innocent stranger straight into Mrs. Scrubbit's trap. You replied calmly

Wonka looked between you and Bleacher, his eyebrows lifting.

Willy: Trap?

Bleacher quickly interrupted.

Mr. Bleacher: Don't listen to her. Miss Guest is simply being a tad bit dramatic.

You folded your arms.

Guest: Am I?

Wonka glanced at his suitcase, then at Bleacher.

Willy: I must admit, you've made this rather confusing.

Guest: Good. Confusion is much better than signing anything with Scrubbit.

Wonka's curious expression returned.

Willy: You seem to know quite a lot about her.

Guest: I do indeed.