Post by Jade on Apr 28, 2013 18:47:23 GMT -5
"Sir?"
The grey-haired man stepped over the threshold, dwarfed by the massive frame built specially for the building's hulking inhabitant. "Is something bothering you?"
The much larger figure was leaning over a railing, resting his hands on the steel that prevented him from tumbling over the ledge and falling... What was that? "Alistair, about how far up from the ground do you believe we are, currently? Ten, maybe twelve feet up?" When his butler did not respond, Greyson sighed, shaking his head, and then straightened his frame up to his full height. "I was just thinking about your proposal again. That is all." The fighting man grimaced as he turned to face Alistair. "While I do agree that I should leave Stetson... Why-"
"Why the life of a pirate?" the older gentleman smiled, bowing his head and pushing his glasses back up into their proper place. "Life on the ocean seems like such a foreign concept, especially when you take into consideration your, ah... Condition. However, if my guess is correct, and I believe it is, you will warm up the idea before very long." Alistair gave a curt bow to Greyson and turned to walk back through the doorway. "Now, if we are to be leaving sometime in the near future, I believe it is high time for me to begin preserving some of the roses. Just give me the word when you are ready for lunch, sir."
When the sounds of the steps of Alistair's perfect stride faded out of Greyson's hearing, the self-proclaimed gentleman slumped back on the railing, slowly sliding down the metal rods. He looked up at the bright blue sky and watched as a cloud covered up the sun for, by Greyson's guess, two minutes and thirteen seconds, and then he closed his eyes. The life of a pirate... I just don't see the appeal, Alistair...
When he next opened his eyes, Greyson was confronted with... Something that smelled delicious. He blinked a few times before realizing that, yes, there was a plate sitting in front of him, with lettuce and tomatoes arranged in a delightfully pleasing manner. Alistair had even gone far enough to place a fork in the palm of his left hand, that... That... Wow, he was hungry. Skipping breakfast probably hadn't been the best idea. Greyson pulled himself up with one hand, taking care not to dirty his fork, and gathered up the plate before entering his home.
He walked through the fine house like he was walking towards his own death, head hung low and his eyes closed, relying solely upon his memory of the arrangement of furniture to get through without bumping into anything. He opened his eyes again when he came to the stairs, and, sighing, made his way down the stairs. He passed by Alistair, who must have started gotten around to starting preserving roses, on his way to the small table with two chairs, one much larger than the other, and sat. He picked up his fork again and began pushing the lettuce on his plate around, seeming to have forgotten his hunger again.
Five minutes later, when Alistair glanced over his shoulder, Greyson had already devoured his lunch, prompting a smile from the older man. A raised eyebrow, however, was the response to Greyson suddenly standing and beginning to make his way to the door with heavy footsteps. "Sir?"
"I'm going out for a drink."
"When can I expect you back?"
"... Tomorrow morning."(~*~)
Not a half hour later, Greyson was just another body occupying a seat at a bar. Other than the man who would refill his glass every so often, the other patrons gave the well-dressed man a wide berth. In all his thirteen years on the island, not a soul had seen Greyson Gaunt imbibe as much of any alcoholic beverage; in truth, Greyson couldn't think of a time he had done this, either. Sure, he drank on occasion, but... Always for an occasion. Now... Now he just wanted to drink until he stopped thinking.
Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be happening any time soon.