InsaneJournal

He was tired, tired down to his bones. It was probably clear from the way he sat on the edge of the bed, head tilted upwards to examine the plaster moulding on the ceiling as he unfastened the Cravat. He folded the length of material once it had been freed, and lay it down on the back of the chair, where a few minutes ago he has carefully arranged his discarded jacket.

He stood, removing his shirt and letting that drop into the chair too, before stretching his shoulders. He'd not been at the Theatre as much as he normally would have been. He'd been escorting the boys, or arranging an escort of others in his employ to make sure the boys got around safely. He was worried, very worried, and he was letting it wear him out. Perhaps that was what Slater wanted; for Harry to worry himself ragged, and then, once he was useless, Slater would just walk in and take over. But Harry wasn't about to let that happen...

"Tired, Nell?" He asked the boy, glancing over his shoulder and smiling slightly, "Been rehearsing hard again, have you?" Harry added, knowing from Will that the majority of the boys, those who hadn't skived off, had spent the day going over lines again and again. He would watch, tomorrow. They were doing very well, even without him breathing down their necks. Harry was, honest to god, surprised and delighted about how well the boys had taken to Shakespeare. It was good to know that the boys talent wasn't limited to their usual shows. Nell had proved himself to be quite the Classical performer.