Coriander thought that owning a full drawer of gloves would be enough. It wasn't such a popular element of clothing that it had to be changed too frequently, unlike all the major parts. He thought that in this aspect, he had enough variety to pick and choose for any necessary purpose. But he just couldn't find an appropriate pair, or to be more precise, a pair made out of appropriate fabric or leather. The green dragonskin gloves should be thick and insular enough, but the texture was so rough that writing with them on would cause the text to smudge.
Perhaps he should take the risk anyway. Smudged text might be inelegant, but it might be enough of a hint for the Baron to suspect that something was going on. It was bad form to aim for a complete victory, without letting one's target make a counterplay. He picked the dragonskin pair out of the drawer, but inspiration struck before he managed to put it on. There was really no reason to wear gloves in the first place! After all, if he got poisoned, perhaps the Baron would hear of it and connect the dots - maybe come to a wrong conclusion that Coriander himself fell victim to a similar plot, perhaps even seek him out! Falling victim to the Malice venom would be worth it!
Coriander closed the drawer and picked Malice out of his poison cupboard. He was about to begin writing when a servant knocked on the door. How unfortunate!
"My lord, someone came to see you" the voice reported.
Well, he couldn't help it. He could always finish writing the letter later. He put Malice back in the cupboard, shuffling the bottles a little. He kept his poison carefully mislabeled, just so that anyone messing with it would meet an unpleasant surprise, but it wouldn't help against those knowledgeable enough to recognize that. So, just in case, he changed the positioning every once in a while. It couldn't hurt, after all.
Coriander made his way downstairs, heading to the drawing room to receive the guest.
