Worthless to One

[riddleman]

Assorted threads.

To be spruced up when I have time and am not on mobile.

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[riddleman]

"Oswald?" Edward was in the hallway still, but he could smell the food from here, making him feel bad about running behind. "I'm sorry I'm late." Not by much, only about an hour. Nothing big interferred, he just liked to be thorough. "It takes time, picking the perfect wine. You understand."

He made his way into the room and lowered the bottle, lookimg over the feast Oswald had prepared. "Your cook has outdone herself."

After having been on edge seemingly all day, he did wonder what this could all be about. So he sat down by Oswald's side, offering the bottle out to him. "You approve?"

[riddleman]

"Your schedule for the day." Edward places the itinerary in front of Oswald at the breakfast table, avoiding so much as to even glance at the man. He does sit down however, since he really doesn't feel like standing the entire time and for better or worse, this still falls under his job description. "You have an open window between three and four thirty, shall I pencil you in a temper tantrum?"

Just asking, of course. He does finally look at him, now that he feels as if he's ascertained his position as the mature one in this entirely ridiculous situation, leaning back while he watches Oswald.

He hasn't slept the last night. Not badly, just literally not. It's not all that unusual, his brain often doesn't stop working for long enough to get some rest, but usually it concerns itself with less of an emotionally tangled web. Logistic puzzles are much easier to solve.

[hobblepot]

Oswald wakes up slowly.

His leg first, of course. A murmur of pain that starts at his ankle and spreads, throbbing, to engulf his kneecap. Not bad enough to start his day fumbling around for an aspirin but enough to shake him, little by little, out of his sleep-fog.

He spends a while just riding out the slow trickle of his thoughts, staring hazily at the wall until his mind opens up and takes in more of the room, the pale slit of light slicing through a gap in the drapes. Goosebumps sweep his arms and he shivers despite the heat ghosting the back of his neck. The manor is old and drafty but It's colder in the bedroom than he expects. It takes him a moment to grasp that his shirt is gone but the why is slower to dawn on him until he looks down and notices the arm curled around his side. He blinks, wide awake, a trembly-electric feeling hiving in his chest as he twists around to look.

"Ed...?" There's an edge of fear to his voice, as if someone else might answer - or no one would at all, somehow, his mind playing tricks on him.