Francis chose not to close the door as he meandered to the free bed. He took a seat, hands planted in his lap. After a moment of stillness he rhythmically tapped his fingers on his knee. “So…” he began, ultimately trailing off. He searched through his mind for an end to the sentence, something to say to break the awkward silence, but before he could he was interrupted by the sandy-haired footman.
“Is there anything I can get for you two sirs?” He asked through his heavy accent, as if he hadn’t heard Keene’s offer just a minute ago. In all fairness, he probably hadn’t heard.
Jack looked up, then shook his head at the footman. "No, I don't think so." he said, eyes traveling over the footman's form for a moment, and a faint smile tugging at his lips.
The footman nodded, seeming to take no notice of Jack’s trailing gaze. He turned his head to Francis, then, who also denied the request. “Alright. Do let me know if there’s anything I can do for either of you to make your stay more comfortable.” He dipped his chin once more, and then disappeared into the hallway.
Jack snickered faintly under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment and sighing just a little bit. He ran a hand through his hair, opening his eyes again as he looked up at the ceiling.
Francis looked over at Jack’s snicker, narrowing his gaze with confusion. No, suspicion, having known Jack’s reputation. “What do you think of him?” Francis finally said. He leaned forward to pull his shoes off and set them on the floor neatly, then shuffled back. Sitting more comfortably on the bed, legs crossed, propped up by his arm on the mattress.
"Who, Keene? Or the footman?" Jack asked, arching his eyebrows and leaning his chin on his hand, looking over at Francis while swinging his feet idly. He kicked off his shoes, the two leather shoes hitting the floor with soft thumps, haphazard and unorganized.
“Both.” Francis shrugged. He’d meant the footman at first, but now he was curious to know what Jack thought of Keene too. Before he hadn’t seemed that impressed.
It felt strange, of course, sharing a room with Jack. But not only for the obvious now, after spending several days together already it felt more normal—in some strange way—to talk with him. If for nothing else at least to reach a polite acquaintanceship.
"I don't see why my opinion of the footman matters to you." Jack pointed out. "I have no intention of bedding anyone in the same room as you, so you may rest assured that any flirtation or other such thing will not happen in a place where you will be forced to witness. And Keene…I do not know enough of the man to form an opinion."
“Alright, alright,” Francis conceded. “That’s fair enough.” He figured Jack’s reply was an answer to his question, one that the senior Montague would most likely not approve of, but he pushed the thought to the side. At least he wouldn’t have to witness anything, and he could claim complete ignorance.
Jack kicked his feet lazily, sighing faintly. "Besides, I'm not interrogating you about your opinion of my sister, now am I?" He arched an eyebrow at Francis. "I am no more entitled to your thoughts than you are to mine, sodomite though I may be. I still have a right to my own private thoughts."
Francis frowned, a barely visible flush rising over his expression. Jack had a point. “That’s not the same,” he muttered. Though the turn on the question had gotten under his skin enough for him to go quiet. He shifted back across the bed, leaning against the headboard and pulling out his notebook. Better to distract himself than dwell on the embarrassment.
"Oh? And why not? The only difference is the sex of the other person, Francis. Are you insinuating I have less of a right to privacy than you, simply because I'm known to enjoy the company of other men?" Jack arched an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying this opportunity.
Francis tossed a side-eyed glance over to Jack. “That’s not…that’s not what I meant,” he attempted. “I’m not insinuating anything except that my opinion of your sister isn’t relevant.” He pursed his lips together, purposely gluing his gaze back to the notebook pages. His face reddened a bit more.
"Exactly. And my opinion of the footman isn't relevant either, yet you thought it was alright to ask." Jack retorted. "So I fail to see your point, my dear Francis." He was very much enjoying this.
(Real quick, was that the first time Jack called him Francis and not Olivier? 👀 Or am I just forgetting another time before? If it is the first time Francis is going to totally overthink it lmao)
(uhhhhh I can't remember?? We can pretend it was, if you like)
(Alrighty!)
Francis resisted the urge to roll his eyes, visibly shuddering instead. He wanted the conversation to be over. To forget about being pinned into a corner, metaphorically speaking, when what he said to initiate the interaction now sounded less than polite. And he was used to being considered polite by everyone. Then Jack said his name, and all previous thoughts left him. “What did you just call me?”
"Uh…your name?" He raised an eyebrow at Francis, not seeming to see that it was a big deal to the other man. "Is that a problem? Would you prefer me to call you something else?"
“No, no, it’s not a problem.” Francis blinked away his expression and sent his gaze to the other side of the room. Suddenly self conscious about his stunned reaction. “It’s just we’ve always used our last names. I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
"Ah, I see. I can go back to that, if it would make you more comfortable." He didn't want Francis pissed at him. Mainly because then the entire trip would be miserable, because he'd be trapped with two people that hated him, and he wanted to have fun.
Heyo, I’ve been feeling pretty under the weather lately, and while I’ve been trying to get responses up I haven’t really been able to keep up as much as I’d like to. I wanted to let you know that a reply is coming soon, it just might take another few days or so :) thanks so much for your patience!
(hey! No worries, take all the time you need!)
(thanks so much!!)
“No. It’s alright. I don’t mind,” Francis answered quickly. He truly didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything it was just a reminder that they were no longer strangers to each other. Still dancing around each other awkwardly, maybe, but familiar enough with each other to use first names. It felt odd, and that was the extent of his discomfort—which felt just as off. “I don’t mind at all…Jack.”
(no problem!)
Jack nodded faintly. "Alright." He said, leaning back to stare at the ceiling and letting out a quiet sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and going to the window, looking out at the grounds of the manor.
Francis sent lucrative glances over to Jack once every few minutes, between mindlessly flipping through pages of his notebook. Jack was an…interesting man to say the least. While he found the man no less than unsettling, there was something about him that kept drawing Francis’ attention. Morbid curiosity, most likely. “It’s a beautiful place here,” he said finally.
