12-13-2019, 12:05 PM
Letting. That wasn’t ominous, no sir. His heart raced, and he could practically smell the impending blood in the air. Aslan’s, more likely – but if he stayed in close, he had a better chance of a killing blow...
Precious jewel. Jules. No major heist to pull off tonight, then – just the great escape of weaseling out of this alive. His father named Aslan for strength and for bravery, yet here he was: like a passing vole through stronger lions’ plains.
“Y’too kind,” Gavin said shortly with a smile that did not meet his eyes, non-cane hand in his pocket once more.
Bohea. He would not have heard the end of it had he dared to bring mere bohea home. It was practical, and it was what a man like Aslan could afford without having to reuse and reuse to justify the daily habit. Sometimes, he covertly salvaged Nisa’s remnants when the work ran dry.
There was no change in his posture when the behemoth approached – but only because he was already wound up like a coil. There was a fraction of a second where his body naturally resisted manhandling – a small but deeply embedded rock against a harsh river. Then, like a leaf rolling and flipping in the wind, Gavin stumbled to where he was driven.
Jules looked like Aslan felt whenever Nisa demanded a new maid, and he gave an instant sympathetic raise of his brows. He pulled out the chair that put Jules to his left and rested his cane on the edge of the table, then drew his seat in. He was close enough that he could feel warmth … close enough to be considered inappropriate, but not so close as to actually touch.
“Joos’sugarr, thankya,” he said, quietly studying a blue flower on the teacup.
Stolen? Maybe, maybe not. They matched.
“Gau’d’ner,” he answered after a brief pause.
Originally, he’d planned to lure whoever the thief was onto his employer’s estate with a far more grandiose story. Snatch him red-handed. But clearly, one of these bastards had to have thoughts in his head. Fascinating, certainly ... but also ultimately terrible for Aslan’s bottom line.
“Beau’if’l place ifnae it paid be’er.” He cracked his neck to the side and settled back in his seat. “An’ whot d’fines you, Misterr … Asa?”
Precious jewel. Jules. No major heist to pull off tonight, then – just the great escape of weaseling out of this alive. His father named Aslan for strength and for bravery, yet here he was: like a passing vole through stronger lions’ plains.
“Y’too kind,” Gavin said shortly with a smile that did not meet his eyes, non-cane hand in his pocket once more.
Bohea. He would not have heard the end of it had he dared to bring mere bohea home. It was practical, and it was what a man like Aslan could afford without having to reuse and reuse to justify the daily habit. Sometimes, he covertly salvaged Nisa’s remnants when the work ran dry.
There was no change in his posture when the behemoth approached – but only because he was already wound up like a coil. There was a fraction of a second where his body naturally resisted manhandling – a small but deeply embedded rock against a harsh river. Then, like a leaf rolling and flipping in the wind, Gavin stumbled to where he was driven.
Jules looked like Aslan felt whenever Nisa demanded a new maid, and he gave an instant sympathetic raise of his brows. He pulled out the chair that put Jules to his left and rested his cane on the edge of the table, then drew his seat in. He was close enough that he could feel warmth … close enough to be considered inappropriate, but not so close as to actually touch.
“Joos’sugarr, thankya,” he said, quietly studying a blue flower on the teacup.
Stolen? Maybe, maybe not. They matched.
“Gau’d’ner,” he answered after a brief pause.
Originally, he’d planned to lure whoever the thief was onto his employer’s estate with a far more grandiose story. Snatch him red-handed. But clearly, one of these bastards had to have thoughts in his head. Fascinating, certainly ... but also ultimately terrible for Aslan’s bottom line.
“Beau’if’l place ifnae it paid be’er.” He cracked his neck to the side and settled back in his seat. “An’ whot d’fines you, Misterr … Asa?”
