For You (manxman)

Stones and Wood

"He doesn't really use it. It's more for aesthetic purposes to him. As for me, I don't need it." He lifted it once, and nothing came from it. He stepped on the dance floor, and it felt so natural to him.

"What is the use of Bane then?" Warren rearranges the litter of documents and letters on the desk. He looks back at his Lord.

Quentin slides his index finger on the letter he's reading. His eyes keep roaming the contents of the letter, almost as if in trance. How curious.

"It's for knighting a warrior into our House." He folds the parchment immediately and tucks it safely on his breast pocket upon seeing Warren's eyes on him.

Warren realizes his mistake, "Apologies, my Lord. I meant no offense."

"I must look like a swooning buffoon."

Swooning? The word in Warren's mind is "distracted" not "swooning". The baron easily gave himself away which is uncommon. Could it be a suitor? He has or had suitors. They come for the hand of the beautiful Lord, but flee once they see the meager property of the Fitzgeralds.

"Your suitor must be wonderful."than all the rest.

"We're... friends." He chokes out, sounding so uncertain. He tries again, "A good friend."

"Of course." Not. Warren nods to appease him. His experience as Quentin's attendant for four years has taught him the many quirks of the man.

Quentin looks away embarrassed, knowing well that Warren has seen through him.

"Only friends." Quentin runs his fingers through his hair as if it would appease his already troubled state.

He feels a brow rise. It wouldn't really occur to him that the older man would tie himself in knots over Warren seeing him read a letter, when it's the busiest time of the year for them.

Warren chooses not to delve further on the subject. He doesn't take pleasure in antagonizing people. The Fitzgeralds aren't short-tempered, they submit to avoid conflict. Probably why most of their fertile lands are no longer in their possession. Just look at their sigil, a chickadee. There's nothing menacing about it. They are alike with the Fitzgeralds for their adaptability in the unpleasant weather. Especially how easy on the eyes they are. Devin is attractive even though his childishness overshadows it.

"It's always good to have friends than enemies." He responds. But they have no friends, only parasites that feed off their produce without giving anything back.

Quentin nods. Exhaustion catching up to him. He's been in the fields this morning, salvaging what's left of the crops with their farmers. Out of their manor to give the remaining jugs of milk of the day this afternoon. And finally here in his studies, reviewing letters to see if they missed any demands. They give so much but receive so little coin.