tushanshu | III. But I don't like scenes, except on the stage.

[In which Lord Henry treats the text feature as if it were a telegram service.]

[Text, private to Dorian Gray]
[This message is sent after two days' discreet waiting after Toby's arrival. Henry is not blind and definitely noticed Dorian's reaction, but (wisely, probably) did not interfere, and has allowed time to pass before approaching Dorian—and has also been studiously avoiding Toby. He has no idea whether his friend will answer, but even if he doesn't, that will tell him much of what he needs to know.]

Are you well? I do not wish to intrude, of course, but I could not help but notice a certain amount of recent excitement.

[Text, private to Alcuin nó Delaunay]
I hope this finds you well—would you be available to dine or for a drink sometime soon? I should like to hear of your progress with our yellow book.

[Open action nice choice and not so nice, post-trainwreck choice]

[ETA: Disturbing conversations about murder and possible eventual bad behaviour within.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, I think I should probably sleep this off. [He will finish his glass of water first, though. He is sure he'll feel dire enough in the morning without it.] And do not worry, I'm hardly used to a valet anyway.

Whereas I am hardly used to being without one. One manages, however. [He won't mention the shirt that he ruined when he tried to press it.] That being said, if there is anything that you need in the night, I am but across the hall.

One does, though I still do not trust myself to cook. [He didn't have a manservant, but the household had a cook, of course.] And I will wake you if I have need of anything.

[Well, he won't, but he will say he will. It satisfies politeness.]

Oh! cooking. [Henry waves that thought away. At least he's finally figured out how to boil water and make toast without burning it.] Well, when you are finished with your water, I will show you to your room, and you may rest your head with hopefully very little pain in the morning.

[The toaster is a work of magic. Like cooking, but without anything too difficult! He finishes off the last of his water.]

I believe I am ready to retire now, if you will be so kind as to lead the way.

Of course.

[Henry rises and offers Alcuin a steadying hand.]

[Alcuin pushes himself up carefully, taking that hand with gratitude.]

Lead on, then.

[With perfect graciousness, Henry escorts Alcuin to the spare bedroom, pointing out the conveniences and other necessities along the way. As he bids Alcuin goodnight, he rests his hand for a moment on Alcuin's shoulder—very nearly the side of his slender neck, a gesture that could be a little too intimate for some.]

Good night, Alcuin, and sleep well.