Elsie:

Elsie lugged the shopping from her small car towards the house. Nyssa would be home by now. She usually finished her deliveries really quickly. Elsie had gotten her the job as a bike courier at the company which she worked as a receptionist. Everyone at the office was impressed by Nyssa’s work ethic.

Elsie approached her little cottage and immediately was worried. Both the gate and door swung wide open and Nyssa’s bike was just left out on the street.

“Nyssa?” Elsie called. There was no response. She stowed the groceries on the kitchen bench and hurried to the back of the property where Nyssa tiny room was. “Nyssa!”

Nyssa lay curled up in a ball, her arms bright red. For a second, Elsie thought it was blood, but then she spotted the grisly painting spread out on the floor underneath layers of paint.

“Nyssa, lass?” Elsie crouched next to Nyssa, shaking her shoulder gently. When that didn’t work, she jerked her roughly.

“Elsie?” Nyssa blinked and shook her head.

“Ooch, lass. Ye look awfly peely wally.”

Nyssa blinked again. “What?”

“Yer pale, lass.” Nyssa didn’t always understand most of what Elsie said. The girl had a thick scottish brogue that could put the toughest old Scotsman to shame.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, Elsie, but I have to go.” Nyssa struggled to stand. Elsie grabbed one of her arms and helped heave her to her feet.

“A dinnae onerstaun,” Elsie said. “Go whaur?”

“I can’t explain, but I probably won't be coming back.” Nyssa began grabbing her things out of draws and shoving them in suitcases. Lately, this was how she’d been leaving all the places she lived.

“Dinnae fash yersel, lassie.” Elsie started helping her pack. “If ye need tae go, ye go. A onerstaun.”

“Thanks, Elsie.” Nyssa gave her a one arm hug and kissed her on the cheek. Elsie wrinkled her nose at the dried paint that was flaking off Nyssa.

“Per’aps ye shood have a bit oo a wash, lass.” Nyssa laughed and looked down at her ruined clothes and the paint clinging to her body and hair.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Nyssa gave her a shaky smile and another hug. This time she clung to the small girl a little longer than necessary. Elsie let her, patting her back comfortingly.

“Thanks, Elsie.”

“Dinnae fash yersel,” Elsie said with a half smile. Nyssa snagged a towel and disappeared into the bathroom. “Poor lass.”

Told you, short.

I love Elsie, she is so cute =) To prep myself for this chapter, I watched a lot of Kevin Bridges' stand up, so I hope it came off authentic. Any Scottish people reading this, I would appreciate your feedback!Actually, since this story is set primarily in England, I would appreciate feedback from anyone living in that part of the would. I'm Australian myself, but I have done my best to make the slang as natural as possible (which sometimes involves a lot of googling to see if British people use couch or sofa or lounge etc.).

Actually, since this story is set primarily in England, I would appreciate feedback from anyone living in that part of the would. I'm Australian myself, but I have done my best to make the slang as natural as possible (which sometimes involves a lot of googling to see if British people use couch or sofa or lounge etc.). I've been watching a tonne of British TV shows/movies to try and get the accent down and talked to a lot of people who have visited England but that is not the same as speaking to an Englishman, so your help would be great. Please and thank you.