InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "My shoes are too tight"

Prince Logan (grumpyoldgoat) wrote in bone_orchard,
@ 2012-06-28 15:45:00

Current mood:

calm

Time-Stamp: The 7th.
Who: Hatch, Rosalind, Logan.
Where: Bowerstone Castle.
Warning: PG.

Status: New. Part II to Three's a Crowd.

As soon as Rosalind gave him the card, he turned it over to check the signature on the other side. Reaver. Of course. Mr Hatch's story checks out. Even though the calling card may have proven to be a distraction, Logan's broken line of sight did not mean he was completely unaware of his surroundings. He would have had to be blind to not notice that Barry's hands had found their way back to Rosalind. Abandoning the prince in a heartbeat, the duo were returning to their prior destination before they had been interrupted. Ignoring the private message scrawled underneath the name, Logan answered Reaver's manservant offhandedly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"First impressions can mean all the world, Mr Hatch. "

Immediately, he had followed the odd pair, unfolding his newspaper and sliding the card inside the centrefold where it would be most secure for the moment. To bring the elusive man to a halt, the prince casually moved in front and turned around to face him, effectively blocking their path. Or his escape, if he were correct in believing that this pesky servant thought he could continue on his merry way with a Royal servant under one arm, not any different from the newspaper that the prince had under his.

Given the present company, after his initial warning, why did Barry insist on having his arm wrapped tightly around Rosalind's shoulders was admirable. In spite of Barry's determination to invade his aide's personal space, precisely what was Rosalind's side of the story? For the second time today, she was not putting up a fight.

"Regrettably, my first impression of you, Mr Hatch, leaves little to be desired."

His tone not entirely humourless, as he continued to talk unhurriedly, it was evident that the prince was serious. In what he or anyone else who were to describe the following scene, rest assured that Logan showed the utmost courtesy towards a guest of the Royal Gardens. Anything but politeness would simply not do. Unsmiling, Logan rolled up the newspaper, pushing one end into the middle of Barry's chest with enough force to demonstrate the importance of what he had to say. Paying no heed to anything that Rosalind had to say, if she were to speak up for once or counter the shorter man's unwelcome affections on her own; Logan was impatient in returning to his morning tea. With or without his personal servant, it made no difference.

"You have overstayed your welcome. I entrust you to return to your post at Master Reaver's estate, and leave Lady Rosalind here where she can tend to her own responsibilities."

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always_on_time
2012-07-04 02:36 am UTC (link)

Again, Rosalind found herself in the awkward position of being forcibly escorted by the eccentric Mr. Hatch. And again, she was at a loss of what do actually do about it.

Perhaps this was some sort of punishment from those beings greater than herself, a comeuppance of sorts to how long she avoided contact with the majority of castle staff those past few years. There was the added bonus that Logan followed the two of them this time, no doubt questioning why she didn’t seem to mind such treatment. It wasn’t that she didn’t mind it, in fact she minded quite a bit, but she thought it would be considered rude to physically assault a guest of Bowerstone Castle so early in the day.

Besides, the Prince made it quite clear that he did not enjoy Rosalind’s tendencies towards violent behavior. Such was the predicament she was faced with.

“Mr. Hatch, would you kindly-”

Her protest was cut short by the Logan’s newspaper-punctuated command, which she was most thankful for, as it could not have come at a better time. Using the distraction, she ever so delicately removed Barry’s hand from about her person, returning to her usual place next to the Prince. If nothing else, she had to admire Barry’s persistence in escorting her anywhere that wasn’t near Logan or members of the Royal Court. After Logan had his say in the matter of where she should be within the next few moments, she nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. Although our talk was most diverting, Mr. Hatch, I’m afraid I must go back to my busy schedule which I have been neglecting this morning. As a fellow servant, I’m sure you understand such obligations?”

There was something to be said for diplomacy, especially when the message behind the polite façade was anything but friendly. The more she had thought about Mr. Hatch’s behavior that morning, the more she started to understand just where he might have dragged her off to if Logan had not intervened by happy accident. Not that she wouldn’t have been able to handle the situation on her own, but it was a slight on her very nature to think she would just… be led astray.

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down_the_hatch
2012-07-12 12:39 am UTC (link)

So far, so good. As Barry guided his personal tour guide through the gardens, the grin on his face widened. But, just when he thought that he'd leave the castle grounds with a rather special souvenir... his path was blocked. Keeping his arm slung round Rosalind's shoulders and a smirk on his face, he stared hard at the other man, daring him to- hang on, what was this? Before he had a chance to counter the Prince's poor comment, a newspaper was pushing him in the chest and distracted him.

Huh.

If anyone was going to whack him one with a rolled-up bit of newspaper, the Prince was out of luck. That role had already been taken.

Bristling, but nonetheless keeping his temper under control, Barry used his free arm to casually push the offending prop away. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the Prince as he listened, and just as before, he failed to notice that his tour guide took the opportunity to free herself from his grasp. In actuality, he did notice; he made no comment as Rosalind deserted him and, besides, the Prince was much more important for the time being. With any luck, Hatch's well being depended on it. Just as Logan explained, a good first impression was much better than a poor one. Although Hatch did not consider his morning's activities to be that unpleasant, on a personal basis, there was the probability that before long word would get 'round. And that meant his Master would receive such news.

Whether or not Barry had a few hours in which he was free to do what he wanted, his reputation was still at stake.

Without taking a step back from the Prince and his aide, Barry adjusted his gloves and tailcoat, his ego slightly bruised. His gaze flickered over to Rosalind, and her words stung, just a little bit. He'd shrug it off, sooner or later, and in the company of a poor substitute.

His good spirits now dampened, Hatch retreated a few steps and took a low bow to both Logan and Rosalind, although as he straightened he turned to face the lady. He quickly shortened the distance between them and, taking one of hands in his, his thumb lightly pressing into the space between her knuckles, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back 0f her hand. "You couldn't be any more clearer, Wosalind. It was sheer pleasure to have you as my tour guide, and I can only hope that we'll meet again.." He squeezed her hand a little, and released his grip. "...in better circumstances."

And on that note, he strode round the pair, keeping his distance from Logan. Before he left the grounds and returned to Reaver's estate, though, he would make a quick detour back to the castle's dining hall and knock back a glass or two. Or three. He made it four: he reckoned he deserved it.

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grumpyoldgoat
2012-08-12 11:48 am UTC (link)

The Prince was satisfied with how the delicate meeting played out, as there was room for everything being blown out of proportion if Mr Hatch took it upon himself to cause a scene so early in the morning with so few witnesses about. Logan was not surprised when the stubborn man had to have the last say, by bidding Rosalind farewell with a kiss on the hand. The rebellious gesture did nothing to ruffle Logan's feathers, per se.

If it made Mr Hatch feel better about himself, if he thought he won this battle and could gossip for hours on end with Master Reaver, then so be it. This morning would continue to be a roughly uneventful one. Looking back to Rosalind, Logan turned to face her, visibly unaffected by the manservant's wide arc around the two as he headed off into the direction of the castle.

On the other hand, Rosalind appeared quite the opposite. Seemingly flustered by her unwelcome guest's obscene (exaggerated or not) behaviour, something could be done to help lighten her mood and give her something much more pleasant to think about. Barry's shameful remarks about the quality of life as a humble servant left nothing to be desired. Sincere, he continued to converse with his servant even before Barry was probably out of earshot. There was nothing confidential about what he wanted to talk to her about, even though the topic decidedly shifted into territory that is more clandestine once they had retreated to the gazebo. It had replaced one of the ponds at the edge of the royal gardens, near the family tomb and Sir Walter Beck's memorial statue.

"You have my compliments, except for one mistake you overlooked by chance."

At a reasonable distance, even to those with a well-trained eye; it looked as though the Prince was scolding the Royal servant as he bent his head low, waving the end of the rolled up newspaper in her face. As hostile as the gesture could very easily have mistaken to been, which was his intention, the truth was anything but. Logan lowered his voice on the off chance that a passing gardener or one of the regular bootlickers would coincidently get to eavesdrop, risking it all with a brief devilish smirk.

"You are like no other servant. Only in their dreams can they aspire to be as wonderful as you are."

Perfectly calm as though he had not just uttered something so potentially scandalous to whom everyone believed was another ordinary attendant; Logan straightened up, squaring his shoulders as he moved out of Rosalind's vision so the path back to the gazebo was no longer obscure. This was her cue to follow him back there to finish morning tea. As if Rosalind needed any encouragement. If she wanted to release some of her pent-up anger from having to endure Barry's company, she could try her hand at the cryptic crossword puzzle in the newspaper.

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always_on_time
2012-08-13 04:02 am UTC (link)

Despite all evidence to the contrary, given the topics of speech Mr. Hatch chose for that morning’s conversation, the fact that he managed to leave politely was something Rosalind did not expect. Although good manners were always welcomed, being able to imitate them did not always mean the person was sincere in their use. Not that she doubted there were some inklings of good-breeding buried deep within Mr. Hatch, but even his small goodbye gesture was not enough for her to ever be completely at ease around him again. At least internally at ease, she could always appear calm and confident on the outside. It was simply another challenge to master in her repertoire of diplomatic talents; keeping her wits about her when faced with unfamiliar interactions of a physical nature.

Rosalind watched Barry leave until Logan’s voice brought her attention back to her present location. The word mistake had her visibly confused, her brow furrowing slightly and lips pressed into a hard line. What mistake could she have made? She made no social error, no rude gesture or comment. Her manners were impeccable, like they always have been when she was faced with strangers to the Court.

The young woman opened her mouth to dispute his claim, but his explanation kept her quite silent. At the risk of looking like a gaping fish, she shut her mouth with a snap, but her face noticeably relaxed into a more eased expression. She would not lie and say her pride did not grow substantially whenever Logan paid her any sort of personal compliment, something above the usual “good job” at doing her normal duties. But such an accolade, out in the open, where anyone could have heard it was something else.

The smirk was a different beast entirely.

“Perhaps we should ban sleep for them; I want no one coming close, even in fantasy.”

Rosalind followed Logan up the steps of the gazebo, taking her place at the seat next to him. Without prompt, she checked to make sure the teapot was still warm before refreshing his cup, and allowed herself the luxury of slouching just a tad in her chair.

The printed crossword puzzle stared up at her from the newspaper page, a tradition with the former King for countless mornings. Like the spirited games of chess played behind closed doors, the crossword puzzle was something exclusively shared between the two of them. Such innocent pastimes were never questioned by outsiders, as they were simply games to pass the time, nothing more.

Absently taking a tea biscuit from the tray, one of the broken ones of course, she tilted her head slightly to study the puzzle in greater detail. If Logan wanted to know more details about Mr. Hatch and herself, he would certainly ask. Until then, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“Number four across is caravan."

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grumpyoldgoat
2012-08-15 05:26 am UTC (link)

"If I were to make such an order, they would not last very long at all. I would find myself with fewer servants than before. I do not think you would be happy with the extra workload. Not even an aide-de-camp of your caliber could survive under all that pressure. "

Before returning to his morning tea, Logan lifted out the calling card he had tucked away inside the newspaper, and set it facedown (the signature/message side) on the smaller silver tray that was nestled in the middle of the gazebo table amongst the other tableware. This tray was not empty, for it had a small stack of other calling cards and messages that were slowly accumulating this morning as they always did. Anyone could argue that these messages were surely of an urgent nature, and needed a response as soon as possible. Except they would be quickly corrected, because it was far too early in the morning for the Prince to start settling different affairs. If any one of the messages were positively urgent, he would have been alerted that his actual physical presence was required right now without delay, rather than the usual public or private audience held later in the day by appointment.

Retrieving his napkin from where he had previously left it, unfolding it across his lap, Logan watched Rosalind immediately become engrossed in the crossword puzzle that he had laid out for her. With the breakfast blocking most if not all of the view of the opened newspaper from any curious bystander who'd like to invite themselves to the table, it would be easy enough for Rosalind to discreetly turn the page to a more sophisticated page. Like the countless Reaver Industries adverts were a better alternative in case his sister would appear out of nowhere to catch them off guard. He snorted at her bold answer, quietly handing her the quill from the inkwell on the message tray before he busied himself with his prior engagement: tea.

Taking his gloves off and setting them aside on the seat, he ignored the biscuits because sweets were always the last item on the menu. The Prince added to his plate a couple of slices of toast and choice fruit slices. His expression became more serious as he stared over the rim of his teacup at the crossword puzzle as he took a long sip, thoughtful. When he finally spoke he sounded borderline disdainful, but more in a teasing tone.

"So it is. Number seven down is crusade. That evens the score one-to-one."

Keen to learn what transpired between Reaver's servant and his own, however soon it was after he had successfully distracted Rosalind with their cryptic word game, it remained tantalizingly fresh in his own mind. Nothing serious could have happened otherwise she would have voiced her concerns. She also had a very strong stubborn streak in her; which meant she would remain mute on the subject unless she was cornered. Compared to what she was like before, now she looked too blasé for her own good. Almost nonchalant, swapping the teacup for a slice of hot buttered toast; Logan gave her the figurative nudge that she required with another question. He completely ignored her, not once allowing his gaze to rest on her for longer than an instant after he made his enquiry, allowing her the privacy and freedom she deserved in replying if she chose to without him analysing her every move. He turned his attention back to his slice of toast, believably entranced by it.

"I saved you earlier from your own one-to-one engagement. What did you learn from Mr Hatch?"

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always_on_time
2012-08-18 01:40 am UTC (link)

Rosalind neatly filled in the blocks of the puzzle, including Logan’s addition, and paused to consider the rest of the clues. Setting the quill back in the inkwell, she decided to help herself to a little more breakfast, seeing as she didn’t take any food back at the tables in the courtyard. The strawberries looked fresh, despite it not being the best season for them, so she reached out to take one.

Regardless of having quite the array of food to choose from for breakfast, she noticed there was no second teacup, nor a plate that she could place her food on. There was always a second place setting for breakfast, as the two of them would often eat together when going over that morning’s news or any urgent business, but not this particular morning. Perhaps it was someone new working in the kitchens who wasn’t aware of such a tradition, or maybe they just didn’t want to bother. That had been happening lately, now that she thought about it, little nuances missing from daily activities that would go unnoticed to the untrained eye. Disappointing.

Disregarding the lack of teacup, Rosalind tried to go back to solving the puzzle, however Logan decided it was the perfect moment to bring up that subject. Her hand hovered over the quill for a brief moment, until her fingers folded back into a loose fist, and she set it down on the table. Another moment to glance around the area, making sure they were entirely alone lest anyone hear the conversation.

A report like this required nothing less than brutal, candid honesty, the kind which was not something to be said in the general public, but as they were safely away from anyone she felt she could speak plainly.

“That card is extremely important, although I wasn’t able to find out the reason why. Mr. Hatch was adamant about delivering it to Her Majesty’s hands himself, but I assured him that wasn’t necessary.”

She hesitated before continuing; knowing her next bit of the report sounded more like courtly gossip than anything else. However, in this case, such gossip could be quite telling of the types of people their current monarch chooses to associate with.

“I also find it fascinating how Master Reaver has become a captain of industry when his social calendar would demand constant attention. Parties practically every evening, and his servants drink along with the rest of them. Mr. Hatch spoke volumes in a few words ,so I hardly think what goes on there is a secret. So one wonders why Her Highness is holding such… oddly confidential correspondence with Master Reaver? Does she not realize people will talk, and at great length?”

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the puzzle, filling in yet another answer.

“Mourner, two across.”

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grumpyoldgoat
2012-09-24 05:13 am UTC (link)

Logan did not interrupt Rosalind, mentally logging everything she described as potential evidence if this morning's meeting with Mr Hatch was only the start of something far worse and meddlesome than a wayward servant lingering about the gardens. Mr Hatch was absolutely serious in his desire to hand the card to the queen in person, as Rosalind had described. Not a day went by without business entrepreneurs or even commoners requesting an audience with his sister; he did not doubt her skills in communicating with folk of any class. It was her endurance that might be at stake. She may quickly find herself overwhelmed, under the heavy burden of the crown. One small pleasure that her brother had exclusive rights to: abdication.

The change in topic from sceptical messengers to domestic politics was an undeniably awkward decision. While his servant had been talking, the prince had finished his toast, plus one or two thin slices of fruit. He pointedly cleared his throat, not looking at her as looked down at the crossword; unsure if he should be entertained or mortified that Rosalind was more vocal about what Reaver and his servants did behind closed doors than she was about Reaver possibly trying to weasel his way back into the Royal Council.

"Why do you know so much about Reaver? Do you know something that I do not?"

Grateful that they were indeed alone in this corner of the castle gardens, he did not drop this sordid topic even if his servant had already tried to. Logan reached over Rosalind's arm and tapped the start of another row of empty cells, unforgiving in the way he kept turning the conversation around back to Mr Hatch and Reaver in the middle of their game. Perfectly at ease here, with just the two of them, they had the ultimate freedom of speech, unlike if they were inside the castle where there were eyes and ears all around them. Unless they were in his personal chambers, a completely different story altogether.

"Apostle, five across. Her Royal Majesty can take care of herself. She knows Reaver too well to accept an invitation to his estate. Even so, it almost sounds like you are jealous of Reaver's servants. The unorthodox activities that they take part in, day and night."

Reluctant to press the matter even further, Logan left his prying questions at that, careful enough not to upset Rosalind or mislead her, through the light-hearted tone of his questions. His faith in her was not dwindling or in any danger just because she was supposedly envious of Barry's life; the former king found it odd that she had so easily recognised Reaver for who and what he is, from a first-time encounter with his manservant. Preoccupied with his cup of tea again, he remained immersed in the cryptic puzzle, not planning to let this talk about Reaver go on for any longer than it needs to. Reaver would not become their problem unless that repulsive man made himself to be.

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always_on_time
2012-09-25 04:30 am UTC (link)

“I do not profess to know anything about Reaver, but I hear plenty. It’s amazing how vocal the staff can be when they think no one is listening to them; the cooks are some of the worst when it comes to keeping anything secret.”

Rosalind took a slice of apple off the tray, sitting back in her chair and relaxing as she as she puzzled out the next clue in the crossword. Her sudden bout of courtly gossip was unlike her in many respects, but with much less to do around the castle as she had been used to; covertly listening to the verbose staff was becoming something to pass the time. Opinions of certain people and general morale interested her the most, although she now unfortunately knew how frequently certain members of the night watch came to visit the kitchen maids.

Such was the price of knowledge.

With a slight frown, she filled in the next word, unhappy she had not caught that one before he did. In his usual fashion, Logan had kept the conversation rolling on the subject of that morning’s events, but it did little to sour Rosalind’s mood. Sitting out in a private little space in the gardens, spending time with whom she considered the best sort of company; even if a troupe of hollow men came sprouting out of the hydrangeas she wouldn’t be inclined to abandon such a setting.

At the suggestion of jealousy over the freedom of Reaver’s household, Rosalind couldn’t help but snicker aloud. She was amused more than anything else, taking no offense at the underlying question of unusual behaviors and whether or not she would want to start the practices herself. Giving him a sideways glance, she shrugged, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Jealous? Not so, but… call it a fleeting curiosity.”

Dipping the quill back into the inkwell, she filled in another word on the puzzle.

“I can tell you with absolute certainty that I am quite satisfied with all of my more leisurely activities. Whether or not some become unorthodox is always up for debate. Stockings, eight down.”

If he wanted to sneak in a tease at her expense, she thought it best to repay in kind. Setting the quill down, she reached over to refill his cup of tea, taking a piece of toast afterwards.

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grumpyoldgoat
2012-10-03 12:51 pm UTC (link)

"That kind of behaviour, I know too well, from both ends. Reaver's servants as well as my sister's will end up learning the hard way why they should not talk so freely if they think no one is listening."

It was so many years ago, almost a decade, when Logan had the misfortune to experience his first coup d'état from his then Albion Army General, Solomon Turner. Such an atrocity inspired Logan to re-organize the full castle staff, and begin recruiting new soldiers of the elite variety to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. His extreme paranoia brought more problems into his life, but looking back on it now, the prince believed even more that he was not acting irrationally. Of all people, servants had the capacity and the talent to become a double agent - offers of more gold in their pocket was one common temptation to manipulate the royal staff.

The extraordinary woman next to him who kept pinching morsels of food from the breakfast trays was one of a handful of people who remained loyal to him no matter what was dangled right in front of them.

Casting her a look of feigned disbelief himself, the prince allowed her to refill his cup of tea before he replied slowly, keeping his next questions moderately safe. If they were taken out of context, not much could probably be garnered from their combined questions and answers. He did have a sense of humour whenever the timing was right. Without restraint here, Rosalind's suspicious answers held some truth to them.

No one would dare to lie and explain that they were not getting the same treatment that Reaver's servants were enjoying - or suffering, whatever the case may be. Not without first knowing to a certain extent what said servants were engaged themselves in during their work hours, no less. Lying was a tricky business.

"A fleeting curiosity. I see. That implies you have doubts about your future here. That is a cause for concern. If you discover that your work becomes tiresome, I can always find another job for you. I know of some positions that I would recommend for a good worker like you. "

While sympathetic, there was virtually no truth to that ludicrous offer, without looking deeper into the hidden meaning behind his odd suggestion of firing her. For the second time. Disguising his sly choice of words with his usual hardened manner, Logan took a moment to continue his breakfast before ending his friendly jab at their relationship with a more appropriate remark that was relevant to both their discussion and the crossword puzzle.

Even though his 'answer' for one of the other empty cells was a complete fabrication.

"Risqué."

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always_on_time
2012-10-05 07:44 pm UTC (link)

“I suppose the only comfort we can take is that, so far, the gossip is innocent. Well, innocent in a manner of speaking. Morale seems to be high among the staff.”

The words felt odd even as she said them, like they were in a different language she hadn’t practiced in some time. Those last few years before the rebellion she couldn’t recall many “happy” faces as she walked the corridors of the castle, even the senior officers and staff that survived the dismissal en masse had their moments of unease. Since the Queen sat herself upon the throne, there hadn’t really been talk of unhappiness or unsatisfactory working conditions. No whispers of secret plots to destroy the crown, or public demonstrations from people outside the castle either. Peaceful as things seemed to be, there was still the odd feeling that everything was too good lately.

That could have been attributed to the hardened skepticism Rosalind acquired over the years; if something was too good to be true, it likely was, and something equally terrible would soon make itself known. Nowadays, she hoped that natural instinct was completely unfounded. Life was settling itself into a respectable routine, and she would only accept an act of divine providence to change it now.

Rosalind rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, bringing her hand up against her temple to support her head as she leaned over slightly. Not only did this gesture have the outward appearance of her appearing thoughtful, it did well to hide the smirk that was cast in Logan’s direction for a brief few moments.

“Doubts about my future were the last thing on my mind. I merely wondered how a household could be run effectively with such rumored goings on.”

Part of that statement was a small lie, which would have been easy enough for him to see through given their history. Rosalind tried not to think about being let go anymore, not since the two of them had somewhat aired their grievances about the situation, but she admitted it was still a concern. No more serious than a pesky notion that refused to sort itself out.

“You make such a generous offer, and I have no doubt you would do everything in your power to make sure I was comfortable were I given a new situation. However.”

With a resigned sigh, she picked up the quill, not yet putting it to paper. Instead she idly tapped it against the corner of her mouth, pondering her next choice of words as carefully as she could. Logan had accepted the friendly challenge she presented to him with her remarks, and now the ball was in her court yet again.

“I find myself unable to picture being content working under anyone but you. Though, if you feel I would be suited enough to take on more positions and responsibilities within my role now, I would not object to some variety. I had actually intended to mention such things later, after the day’s appointments of course.”

After a moment, she cleared her throat, turning toward him in a casual manner and replacing his “answer” with one of her own.

“Two down is wanton."

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