What Makes a Monster

♱Twenty-Seven♱

Lord Makai is right in front of me, hand around my wrist and looming. Every breath is felt against my cheeks. I worry he may feel my pulse against his fingertips, the ones that are softly spreading along my wrist that's searing from his touch. My gaze is turned. I'm fixated on a suit across the room, burgundy in color with a black, ruffled undershirt. I try to count the buttons or the holes in the lace ribbons in hopes to ignore the sensation of Lord Makai's hand or the close proximity.

So unbelievably close, too close for comfort (although my heart would argue otherwise.)

Then he lets go. No words or warning, simply lets go. I think I'm grateful, I don't know.

"I hope these are to your likings, Your Grace," says Whiskers.

Lord Makai must have heard him coming.

I step away to find Whiskers and a woman with pink hair at his side. She has a blue suit in her grasp while Whiskers has a black one with red buttons lining the pointed edges. As he speaks, and his arms move, the light hits the jacket so it reveals the delicate but simple design that glistens in the light. The vest beneath is also black with the same design only in red. Certainly fitting for Lord Makai, a sophisticated elegance, but the blue one I can confidently say isn't his style. Although it's simple, the color is bright and eye catching. The vest beneath is an off-white, accompanied by a white shirt with a ruffled collar and blue gem attached.

I admit, I'd laugh if he put that on.

"Wallace."

I jump at the call of my name, realizing I missed everything Whiskers was saying about the suits.

"Try on your suit."

"What?" I ask, peering at Lord Makai, who is already standing by the dressing room with his own suit in hand. I've completely forgotten my rule of "not looking at him," because now I can't look away.

"M-My suit?" I sputter then catch the blue out of the corner of my eye.

Pink girl is by me, arms outstretched to hand over said suit. I dare not even touch it. Just looking at it, I know it's expensive.

"Why am I in need of a suit, Your Grace?" I ask, still admiring the clothes that...yeah, I'd like to own. The suit may not be Lord Makai's style, but I sure as hell feel like it could be mine. I imagine I would feel incredible. It is impeccably made and something I never dreamed of seeing this close, let alone wearing.

"Because you will be attending The Day of Aberia with me at the castle," Lord Makai replies. "Now, try on your suit."

He says nothing more before stepping into the dressing room.

What the hell? There's a lot more to discuss! Like the fact that I don't want to go, and I shouldn't. Why does he need me? Is it normal to take a butler? And if it is, Layne is better versed in that world. Most of all, I don't want to spend more time with Lord Makai or even see any of the nobles.

But now Whiskers is smiling at me so forcefully it's scary. He's as confused as I, but probably even more irritated.

"Have you tried a suit of this caliber on before, Sir?" He asks sweetly.

I doubt he has ever had to call a butler "Sir." The only reason he is doing so is likely because he fears what Lord Makai will do if he doesn't. He brought me, a mere butler, to a top tailor for a suit. That is not what one would expect and so I am being respected.

I am as confused as you are, Whiskers.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I answer, nervously walking to the dressing room with him right behind.

"Should you be in need of assistance, simply ask for me. I will be right outside."

"Thank you."

The curtain closes behind me.

I'm in a room with a mirror on the wall, revealing my nervous as all hell self with a suit probably more expensive than everything I've ever owned combined. I'm so scared I'll ruin it that it takes forever to change into. Even then, I'm stumped on the cufflinks and the ruffles. Whiskers has to be called in to assist me. I feel like a child, standing here as he adjusts everything and comments about how it will look even better after being fitted, should we decide on this suit. He said "we" like I have any say in the matter, which I clearly don't.

But I can't deny that, as soon as the suit is on, I'm awestruck.

There's no way that's me. The one in the mirror is a Lord, someone of importance and power with more money than he can count. The blue certainly is eye catching, yet my eyes are even brighter because of it. And it makes my legs appear even longer, shoulders broader and gives a sense of authority and intelligence that I do not possess. The suit is exquisite in every way, and I sure as hell am not worthy enough to wear it, although I am grateful to have even tried it on.

Whiskers steps out of the dressing room with me hesitantly following. If I thought I looked good in the suit, I don't know how to describe Lord Makai.

The suit is as luxurious as the person wearing it; the glistening black accentuating his pale skin and the deep red of his eyes. The rare spots of color give the suit extra personality without being obnoxious or joke worthy. And the red accessories, such as the buttons and the gem embedded into the belt buckle, sparkle like a soft flame.

I want to scowl or make a face of disgust, but I can't even deny while angry with him that he doesn't look good. The bastard is as attractive as ever, actually even more so. That shouldn't be allowed. I am calling bullshit.

"You both look most excellent, Your Grace," says Whiskers, kissing up as every shop handler does. Then he's speaking with Lord Makai about possible alterations while I'm standing here nervously, the usual now I guess. I don't even want to sit for fear of something may rip or catch and tear. I don't see why or how, but it's a fear I have regardless.

"Are there any requests you have, Sir?" Whiskers turns to me, smiling so that his eyes do the same.

"R-Requests?" I hum, still baffled by this whole situation to even consider what he means by requests.

"The pants need a trim and the jacket is too loose," Lord Makai answers when I'm clearly left in the dark.

He steps over to me. I am about to jump back, but he's already grabbing my jacket, admiring the vest beneath then lifting up my chin to inspect the shirt. If we were alone, I absolutely would swat his hand away...I think. I think I would, or I hope I would. Right now, my heart is telling me it won't let me. My hands are shaking so I clench them into a fist, which doesn't really help.

"Does the shirt bother you?" Lord Makai asks. "If you're to be wearing this to the palace, it must be comfortable."

"I, uh, I am unclear as to why I'm wearing this," I whisper, watching Whiskers over Lord Makai's shoulder. I don't think he heard me so I continue, "I would appreciate it if Layne went with you, Your Grace. He has gone before, hasn't he?"

"He has, and he will be going with us, but should a time come when he cannot then the duty will fall upon you. It's practice."

"I don't think I'll be here long enough to worry about that," I counter easily, smiling at Lord Makai until I see that he's not glaring or scowling. Although his brow is furrowed, it's not in anger and all I can do is squirm under the silent stare.

♱♱♱

Oh snap! Wallie just said that =O Soran, you have to get better at apologizing cause this ain't working so well lol

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