Carrick's chin lifted a little as Russ hugged Noctis to him, but said nothing.
When Russ and his slave had been made comfortable in the living room. Carrick called a slave to light a fire in the grate. He shook his head wonderingly, and crossed to the windows, drawing back the heavy drapes and cupping a hand against the window to see out in the darkness and the squall of white.
"This can't be a natural storm," he said grimly. "Even Irish weather wasn't this bad." He turned around to face russ and Noctis again, "Any ideas?"
On his way back to the sofa where Russ was sat, he picked up a large velvety throw from the back of another couch and draped it around his lover's shoulders. The thick material would be warm and soft.
Once the slave had lit the fire and cheerful flames were beginning to dance in the hearth, Carrick motioned him to stay for a moment. "Can I have him bring you something? Hot tea? Maybe something to eat?"
He glanced at Noctis with faint contempt, but he supposed it would be important to Russell for him to show hospitality. "Or for your boy."