Re: Wainright Manor: Hunter R & Damian W
Hunter did not have the choices that Damian had, and they both knew it, but Hunter did not begrudge Damian his choices, either. He too thought his cousin was born into his bizarre, esoteric ways, and Hunter could forgive him for being weird, and temperamental, and occasionally cruel, because rich people were all those things. Maybe they didn't even mean to be, most of the time.
Hunter had immediate assumptions about a female living under Damian's roof, called 'friend' and yet not present. He did not really want the valuable meal he made for his cousin to go to some faceless lover, but he would not take it back, and wished for the stew to continue to be the gift he meant it to be. "Okay." Hunter hoisted the bag atop the glistening marble counter and pushed it forward until it was steady. He didn't touch the sparkling stone, and when his hands dropped, they stayed at his sides.
Hunter's clothing was all wrinkled, because he didn't have a closet. Damian still looked rich and groomed to him. There were no bleach spots, no loose threads. "You only offer poor people clothes," Hunter commented bluntly. "I can get my own." His expression was a challenge of belligerence, if Damian wanted to define "poor" for his cousin. "I didn't come to ask for anything," he stressed, now looking around as if someone were likely to accuse him of looking for favors.