𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 𖤓 - 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧.

DEKATÉSSERA.

"Felix, stop playing with your food." Elspeth scolded from the other end of the elongated dining room table in the centre of the primary dining room.

Felix, who hadn't cared to adhere to Elspeth's discipline, continued impaling his steak as if had tried to escape his plate with his fork - a detached expression upon his face.

Lyssa swallowed a mouthful of white wine accompanied with a bite of her foie gras.

A little too hard, she realised. For her throat ached after it had roughly travelled down her oesophagus.

She was sat opposite Felix, who was wearing a black linen suit and a white dress shirt - an unsettled look across his features.

He hadn't had time to tend to his hair, so it remained continuously overgrown and ruffled across his forehead, framing his golden earring hoop in an auburn disarray.

His dress shirt was unbuttoned partially, as if it were hastily shrugged on during a rush.

A rush, you could call it.

Lyssa noticed that almost every time he turned his head to the side to glare unappreciatively at his Mother's comments upon his unkempt appearance, mauve and magenta blotches blemished his olive skin - poorly hiding behind astray tufts of hair at the sides of his upper neck, near his ear.

She had guessed that Felix most likely knew about this, but that this had become a regular occurrence for both he and his family, so everyone remained oblivious and unbothered - even when the bruises were in plain view.

Farleigh, who had caught on to Lyssa's intensive revision of the state of Felix's neck, burrowed his eyebrows inwards in mild confusion, as he swore those marks hadn't been upon him there before.

Felix had also registered Lyssa's stare, that she had not yet realised she was mindlessly endowed within.

"Everything alright, Sol?"

Felix cleared his throat, setting his cutlery down and tilting his head at her.

It appeared he was lightly mocking her for her impolite mannerisms, for it were unlike her - especially during meals.

Lyssa, who'd been fished out of her sheepish stupor, pursed her lips at Felix's snark.

"Absolutely splendid, Catton." She nodded briefly at the boy opposite her - a then rigid, tight-lipped smile upon her face.

"I'm not hungry." Venetia protested, using her napkin to dab the corners of her mouth where she'd only taken minuscule bites of her food.

She rose from her seat skittishly, wiping her nose with her wrist, causing Elspeth to grimace - before turning around and hurrying away.

Nobody had reacted to Venetia's display of erratic behaviour except for Oliver and Lyssa, who shared a unnerving look as he were stationed to the right of Felix.

Lyssa looked away from the boy beside Felix, shifting in her seat - her dress chafed against her skin - the fitted material proving to feel as if it were asphyxiating her.

Or maybe it were the smothering atmosphere of utter, undoubted discomfiture that had been lurking in the room since they'd settled.

Lyssa beckoned herself to finish her meal quicker so she could find an excuse to dismiss herself to her bedroom, for she wanted nothing but to sleep off the haunt of Felix's touch against her own.

His eyes trained upon the antsy girl in-front of him, Felix Catton knew more than anything that he were partially responsible for her dramatic shift in composure.