[It was all in jest. That was the mantra he repeated in his head as the meeting concluded and he returned home to change and wash properly, letting the servants tend to the matter of his damp, bloodied uniform and what puddles they've left behind. Combed hair, the scent of oil over gunpowder - years carved away to expose sharper features via simple grooming and the comfort of a feathered couch.
If he's lucky he might manage to reverse the damage that's been done: convince her to stay the evening for supper rather than a night out in the company of bloody thespians. The odds are slim, he knows, yet hope springs eternal as the clock ticks on at his back.]
TIME WARP
If he's lucky he might manage to reverse the damage that's been done: convince her to stay the evening for supper rather than a night out in the company of bloody thespians. The odds are slim, he knows, yet hope springs eternal as the clock ticks on at his back.]