[ Earlier this evening in his room, Brandon has spoken out loud (to the messenger, he pretends, so he can let the House and its whispering inhabitants listen in on his thoughts), imagine this, I didn't bring a dinner jacket. A joke with layers, though it's been years since he's eaten out of bins when there was nothing at home, and no one to help him get anything.
So he's dressed as usual when Haran finally arrives with the exception of a silver lapel pin in the shape of an anemone, staring almost dreamily at the table. He shifts his attention to Haran immediately, like the well-mannered diplomat he was sent to be, and evinces no impatience with this elaborate charade. Everybody needs games, utterly spoiled, tyrannous witch-demon boys most of all.
As he takes his oddly placed seat further down the table, he says in the same tone of voice he might use to thank the mother of a friend who invited him to stay and eat: ]
[ Which is sure to scrape at Qetzi's good will, but everything about this dinner was most likely going to, and she's already making an effort to detach — Brandon could guess one or two reasons why. One doesn't have to know Haran longer than a few minutes to figure he won't let that stand, so he might as well factor into the inevitable tension and awkwardness. ]
I hope you won't find it forward if I propose a toast. To family.
[ His voice is so calm and clear, younger than he is, innocent only in its unflinching straightforwardness in going there. ]
after dinner hate mints
So he's dressed as usual when Haran finally arrives with the exception of a silver lapel pin in the shape of an anemone, staring almost dreamily at the table. He shifts his attention to Haran immediately, like the well-mannered diplomat he was sent to be, and evinces no impatience with this elaborate charade. Everybody needs games, utterly spoiled, tyrannous witch-demon boys most of all.
As he takes his oddly placed seat further down the table, he says in the same tone of voice he might use to thank the mother of a friend who invited him to stay and eat: ]
Thank you, Qetzi'ah. I'm honored, Master Morrison.
[ Which is sure to scrape at Qetzi's good will, but everything about this dinner was most likely going to, and she's already making an effort to detach — Brandon could guess one or two reasons why. One doesn't have to know Haran longer than a few minutes to figure he won't let that stand, so he might as well factor into the inevitable tension and awkwardness. ]
I hope you won't find it forward if I propose a toast. To family.
[ His voice is so calm and clear, younger than he is, innocent only in its unflinching straightforwardness in going there. ]