bastard john snow. (gargouille) wrote in camulus, @ 2011-06-05 14:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | john collins |
WHO: John Collins and Alfred Du Maurier.
WHAT: Alfred has some news.
WHERE: Last night, at the social.
STATUS/RATING: Complete/G.
When Alfred came rushing into the party, John had finally let his guard down. His wings relaxed; he'd had a few glasses of whatever this blue fizzy drink was; Maya had only forced him into a handful of dances, which were mercifully slow enough he could shuffle around without complaint. Alfred had come to Camulus functions before, sometimes as chaperone, sometimes to check in on John or bring him something he had forgotten. People had long ago stopped making snide comments about it, and John was preparing some dry greeting when he caught sight of Alfred's face.
The man's hair was disheveled, as if he'd been running his hands through it. The three piece suit he almost never seemed to be seen out of was reduced to two, just vest and trousers, and his shirt sleeves were terribly rumpled. John's face fell. He gripped into the glass in his hand and felt a tiny crack form under his heavy fingers. A hundred scenarios started in his mind. His mother was hurt. Someone had been attacked. The inhibitor shipment was lost.
“Master John,” Alfred said, slightly out of breath.
John couldn't even manage a reply. His eyebrows lifted and his chest tightened as he stared down at his butler.
“Master John,” Alfred said again, and then, glancing slightly at the people around them, leaned in close. John bent his head to listen. “There is a cure.”
The glass slipped out of John's hands and shattered on the floor.