Who: Audrey, Miles, Vivi, and Juliette (with guest appearances by Boris, Mercutio, Cloak, and Dagger) What: Awkward family dinner Where: Vivi’s estate When: Tonight Rating: There’s a bit of language and a lot of awkward Status: Complete
Audrey sat at Miles’ side, her fork playing with the pasta dish in front of her. Her eyes flicked up glancing at her sister across from her, Genevieve at the head of the table. The silence was sickening. Clearing her throat, she turned her attention to Vivi. “Construction is going well,” the room was silent and Audrey struggled with her confidence. “The estate should be fully complete right before summer.”
Juliette had fully intended to spend this dinner -- just as many others - minding her plate and saying very little (or, if she could get away with it, nothing). Perhaps if she were withdrawn enough, no one would notice her at all. She had expected to be alone in the guesthouse by now -- instead, here they all were in the same estate like some strange, makeshift family, and she found herself longing for that guesthouse. At least alone she wouldn’t feel quite so…
Awkward.
The Countess never seemed fussed by anything, Alys appeared to be trying too hard, and Juliette honestly didn’t know Lord Norwood well enough to say, though she suspected his tactic was not so different from hers.
Still, her heart went out to Alys, and as the Countess appeared to be chewing (and would never be so uncouth as to speak with her mouth full), she attempted, as best she could, to bolster the conversation. “I walked by the other day. The amount of progress is impressive.”
“We’ll have to tip those construction workers generously.” Basil was picking listlessly at his food, instead keeping a wary eye on the women around him, measuring the discomfort in the room as one might take someone’s temperature. ‘Family’ meals were an increasingly uneasy affair and he found himself watching the exit longingly, but a stern look from Genevieve usually pinned him back into place, writhing.
“A shame about your guesthouse, though,” he added, slightly sardonically. He could still remember the sensation of his bones cracking, the rubble of the house roaring down around him.
“Yes, a pity,” Genevieve replied, gifting him with a chilly smile. She had heard rumor that the guest house had nearly killed him - it would have been unfortunate, but somewhat fitting. The actor killed by a house of lies. There was a certain poetic feel to it that he would have had to appreciate.
She turned her attention to Juliette and Audrey, her smiler a touch warmer. “I expect it shall be done far more quickly than the renovations to the Duckling.” The demolition of her tavern was still a bit of a sore point with her, though if that and the guest house were the only casualties of the events a month prior, then she would count herself lucky.
Audrey had been observing the air between Miles and Genevieve, incapable of looking for too long unless she wanted to suffocate on how tense the air was. Hopefully, was her silent reply to the Countess. Having suffered both the Duke and the Countess under one roof and now suffering the tongue in cheek threats between her guardian and her husband, Audrey was ultimately one disaster away from swan diving off the closest window.
Silence overcame them again, the blonde could only hear the clatter of the forks and the china.
"The pasta is excellent."
“Compliments to the chef,” Basil said brightly. (Blandly.)
“I agree, it is very good,” Juliette murmured, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Not that the topic of reconstruction had been particularly comforting, either.
Faram, not since Lord and Lady Demiel had she felt so uncomfortable at the dinner table.
With those empty flatteries paid, the Norwoods now exchanged one long skeptical look, a nigh-telepathic Well, this is absolutely terrible flitting between them unspoken.
It had been when she felt a furry something, brushing against her leg that Audrey looked down and away from her husband. “How did you get in?” she questioned aloud, picking up Mercutio into her lap. Not proper etiquette, but she was too puzzled to notice the stares.
Then it hit her.
Audrey stood up, dropping the white fluff ball on the floor. “Mi—” she had caught herself in time, elongating the vowel, “love. Let’s go in another room. Now.”
She could hear the pounding of heavy paws coming from the hall, nails clicking onto the wooden floor. Basil simply gave her a bemused look, spearing another forkful of pasta (because it really was quite good). A quick glance at Genevieve and Juliette reassured him that the jig wasn’t up, and that his identity was still safe—so why the interruption?
“Is something the matter, darling?” he asked, too saccharinely.
“Get in the other room, now.” The softness in her tone was completely gone. Then she heard the growl. Glancing at the edge of the hall, Boris’ hackles were raised sponging his hair out like a mane. She had left the mime’s side, standing between him and the snarling dog. “No!” she yelled sternly, but his attention hadn’t been diverted from Miles, fixated on his presence. The nobleman stiffened in his seat, fork still floating in midair.
Genevieve looked up from her plate just as Boris entered the room, zeroing in on Miles. The smallest sigh escaped her as she let her fork rest against her plate. She lifted her wine goblet and took a sip before turning her attention to Juliette. “Would you mind terribly calling him off?” Had Reinholdt still still been about, she’d have had him offer Boris a nice cut of meat for the entertainment provided, however he was not, and she was still acting as though Miles was Basil.
It wouldn’t do for Alys’ husband to be mauled by his sister-in-law’s dog.
Even had the countess said nothing, however, Juliette was already standing from her chair. Boris’ incomprehensible dislike for Lord Norwood was puzzling, but she had told him such behavior would not be tolerated. “Boris,” she said, her tone quite a bit sharper than when she had been commenting on the dinner, “come, now.”
The massive dog gave her a forlorn look that said quite clearly that she was a very stupid human who didn’t understand, but after a moment, he padded over, allowing her to place her hand on his head. Fortunately, he had yet to disobey her. Unfortunately, he was still tense. “My apologies. He seems to be out of sorts.” Perpetually around you, sir, but I can’t seem to do anything about that.
“Erm, so it seems.” Basil’s fork slowly, slowly lowered as he slid his chair backwards, eyes still riveted on the dog as it growled, a low bone-deep sound that set the hindbrain to prickling. An old memory wafted up: an emaciated Miles (not even Baines, not yet) running from the guard dogs at a shop at full-tilt, feet kicking up dust.
The urge to run again, right now, was very sharp indeed, but he wiped off his mouth with the napkin before levitating back to his feet. “Why isn’t that animal chained up?”
It had taken a moment for Audrey to react, her eyes drifting slowly from Boris towards Basil then finally towards her little sister. She watched her carefully. Juliette did what she could to keep her expression impassive as she said, perhaps a bit coolly, “He does not require a chain.” It took a moment to remind herself that she would benefit from not taking offense on the dog’s behalf as she added, this time to their hostess, “My apologies, countess, I am uncertain why he was allowed access to the dining room.”
“Reinholdt allowed him free reign whilst he was convalescing here,” she explained offhandedly. The blasted creature had continued to hunt his many, many network devices even after Genevieve had explicitly told the Spymaster he was to rest. “I shall ensure that Reinholdt is properly chastised when next I see him.”
To “Basil,” she simply said: “Were I to keep troublesome family locked up, I fear you would be eating in a small room alone.” Her smile was pleasantly sharp. “Though I have heard it is not polite to do so to humes, so why should it be polite to do so to animals?”
“Because they’re animals,” he said shortly, baffled. The man tossed his napkin onto his plate and the remainders of his half-finished dinner; the sauce started seeping through after a moment. (And more of Miles was seeping through, too, his irritation palpable and making his politesse crumble.) “Be sure to keep it on a tighter leash while I’m here, hm?”
“Why don’t we retire to the room, darling? You’re exhausted.” Audrey interrupted. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it (painfully), motioning with her head towards their suite. An apologetic frown was given to Juliette over her shoulder.
“Please, not on our account,” Juliette said, tone still rather chilly as she grouped herself with the dog (she might regret it later; right now her temper was smoldering and she didn’t care). “Thank you for the meal, but I believe I would like to be excused. If it is acceptable?”
“You may,” the countess replied, shooting a cross look at Miles as if to remind him that he was a guest in her home, and she would have whatever manner of amusement she desired. And if that meant Boris had run of the estate, so be it. (Although he was an awfully large dog and she was quite certain Cloak and Dagger would never forgive her the intrusion.)
Before she could say anything, Cloak jumped atop the the table and padded over to Miles, sitting to the side of his plate and looking up the mime. “Meow.” Dagger appeared, nudging the napkin with her pink nose. The mime stared down at the new animals in continued aggrieved horror—he’d never been a person for pets, what was the bloody point, they just inhaled your gil and shat everywhere—but then wrestled himself back into lofty composure.
“Good idea,” he finally said, to Audrey and the air in general. The man turned on his heel and let his pseudo-wife lead him out of the dining room and back towards their corner of the estate, her hand on his shoulder like an orator calming another bristling wild animal. Juliette followed moments later, taking a right turn at the branching of the hall when they went left, Boris by her side and Mercutio trotting merrily behind her.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Audrey could no longer hold it in anymore. “What the fuck was that? What were you thinking?!”
“I don’t like dogs trying to eat me,” he hissed back through clenched teeth (those old memories still boiling, the howling and barking at his heels). “But shush, wait until we get to the suite.”
To their credit, they managed the walk in a tense and irritated silence—but as soon as they reached the suite and the door shut safely behind them, there was the sound of a muffled thump and a yelp as some sort of flung object hit the wall inside.