Tempest & Temptation

𝔈𝔶𝔢𝔰 ℑ𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 (2)

He straightened his cuffs, adjusted the links, and looked down at his shoes where remnants of soup were turning into crusty gunks. Then his eyes met his hands, where the wine was turning into sticky red stains on his skin. From there, his sight locked onto his suit's cufflinks, the rustic silver engraved with marigold flowers was marred with a yellowish residue that released a thick odor.

For a long moment, he stood there, squinting at the unpleasant mess littered on his clothes, hands, and feet.

With a sharp exhale, he brushed dried soup crust from his cufflinks. He was ready to leave, but the clatter of plates and silverware made him halt in his tracks. He rotated around to spot the sight of a maid clearing the table. She worked diligently removing unfinished meals and empty wine bottles, placing them into a sliver service cart accordingly.

"Miria," he said, easily recognizing the maid by thin stature and reserved demeanor.

He glanced around the hall before pacing over to her. "Hello again." A relaxed smile eased onto his face.

Miria stiffened, locking her bones as a rigid as a plank. Constricted by a snake of anxiety, her lips parted but no words came, only a garbled loosely vocalized sound similar to a gasp. Her face crinkled in hesitance as she searched around the room.

"Oh?" He watched the cup she was preparing to put away wobbled in her flustered grip. "You're worried?" Like hers, his eyes briefly bounced around the empty hall before settling back on her. "Don't worry. It's just us right now. Besides, I know you're the one."

Miria's eyes went wide as he continued.

"I must admit, today was unexpected," he sighed, taking the glass cup from her hands and placing it delicately inside the service bin. "Lord Sutherton, Lady Sutherton, and then Erina Sutherton. They are indeed something else."

Miria's face inflated, her brows raised wide and her mouth tugged open. Hurriedly, she reached into her apron pouch and plucked out a square chalkboard and flaky chalk stick. For a second, she cast a heavy stare to the floors before placing the worn black chalkboard against the table, quickly scribbling quickly down words. When she was done, she flipped the board towards him.

He read the board, absorbing the words with an exhale. "Yeah. I know." He brushed his hair back. "I know."

Pulling a long face, she reached into her apron pouch and took out a white flower embroidered handkerchief, offering it.

"For me?"

She nodded.

He smiled, taking it. "Thanks."

Without another word, she nodded and dismissed herself to finally leave him alone. Or at least what he believed himself to be alone.

"What's happening now?" Samira asked as Naeun continued to peep from the door.

"He's cleaning his uniform."

"He's taking it off?" Samira swiftly tried to squeeze next to her.

"No, you pinhead horndog!" Naeun turned and shoved her back.

She landed on her bum. "Ouch," she grimaced. "You said he was cleaning it so I thought you meant he took it off to clean it."

Naeun sighed, shaking her head. She went back to the door to peek. "He's not leaving. He's just cleaning his uniform and---." She paused.

"What?" Samira was back on her feet and back to squirming to get a view.

"Why is he doing that?"

"What? Doing what? Is he really taking it off?" Samira grew even more frantic to get a view. She pulled and tugged hard on Naeun.