George VI

Tired Sentences, Vol. 4

It was a scenario the two of them had been in before, and one they'd undoubtedly be in again. In fact, it was rare for them to spend a prolonged amount of time together without one of them needing to step away to deal with a pressing matter, the time required ranging from a mere moment to, as was currently the case, all night and perhaps even longer.

Whenever the extended situations occurred, one thing was certain: whoever's time was required would do what needed to be done, no matter how long it took, and the other would encourage them to take at least one break. Today was no exception. Once again invited to stay with his friend for a few days but drawn away by the latest in a never-ending string of crises, Mycroft had skipped dinner and it was clear he would also have to forgo rest.

Having missed the meal, the King had seemingly elected to bring it to him instead, most likely in the knowledge that it was not going to be refused when it was delivered by him. While Mycroft knew he was perfectly capable of managing without for a night, maybe even longer, part of him was grateful not to have been left to his own devices. Of course, this would be different were it anybody else attempting to prompt Mycroft to look after himself, but an exception could be made for the other man - both because of his status and because of their friendship.

"Thank you," he replied, though he still put the plate to the side for the moment. Mycroft didn't feel the need to point out that he appreciated the kindness in addition. He thought that obvious enough as it was.

"Perhaps, when you next pass a member of staff, you could also request on the behalf that I am not disturbed in the morning? I predict I can be finished this before breakfast, but considering how I know you won't mind my lack of presence, I think we can both agree it'll be for the best if I catch up on whatever sleep I've missed once the sun has risen and spare you all an exhausted man's foul mood."

The food was set aside which was no surprise, he was sure the smell would lure him into picking at it eventually, he was just glad it was going to be within reach.

"I might invest in a do not -disturb sign for you to -hang on your door." He gently joked and took a light seat, opting to remain on the edge but with his bad legs, standing was less an option and it wasn't like anyone was going to tell him not to sit. He sat as a promise that he wouldn't be staying though, not wanting to delay Mycroft in his work.

as the wind blows; antelope valley, california

Thankfully, the King did understand common sense, and he did consider the consequences of his actions too. Mycroft was always grateful for that. It made his job a lot easier when he didn't have to concern himself with the behaviour of the monarch, and while he was unlikely to ever say it aloud, it was one of the many times he found himself relieved that fate had put the other man on the throne and not his brother.

Sometimes, every now and again, Mycroft found himself worrying about what would happen when the King passed on. He seemed to be doing a good job of teaching his daughter how to behave, but there was always a chance that the lessons would not stick.

Of course, it would hopefully be a long time before Mycroft found himself sitting through a new coronation. He did not like to think that his friend would be leaving him any time soon.

"The loudest suit I have ever seen?"

Hm. It was an interesting question. Mycroft was not quite sure of the answer. He tended to stick to social circles in which people knew how to dress according to the standards he aligned to.

Unaware of his friends concerns around what would happen when he passed, Albert put away the jacket and waistcoat and pulled out his usual black alternative as he sought some warmth beyond just his shirt. Pleased that Mycroft was considering his question on the loudest suit, entertained at the thought.

However his whole face lit up at the mention of India. Albert still so desperate to go and see the country made nearly every mention of a visit there thrilling to the King as he turned and smiled at Mycroft. "I bet it was also beautiful though, with wonderful materials?" He checked as he fixed his sleeves before doing up his jacket. He was jealous Mycroft had managed to go, still sad that such a visit would now never come to pass for him. He just had to live vicariously in such a trip through Mycroft.

Then again, though, today's little adventure did rather say otherwise.

"There are a number of people who will have had suspicions but will had dismissed them due to the absurdity of seeing royalty unaccompanied on public transport," Mycroft did still point out. As sound as the King's argument was, he wanted him to be aware of every factor at play.

He had no other counterpoint to make, though - a display of how, on a basic level, at least, the other man had a point worth making. His opinion was important too, especially now he was old enough to theoretically possess common sense. Of course, Mycroft was not going to say that. If the King could not work out on his own what a lack of further response meant, then that was his own problem.

He was not going to push his luck, though the surprise was clear on his face as he seemed to hesitate and wait to make sure Mycroft was actually done criticising him. Instead he asked about Kew and for a moment Albert couldn't find his words. So, his motivations had the desired effect in the end? He folded up the paper, Mycroft seemed to not have more to say which unfortunately for him meant that the young King believed he had another man in his corner.

"Official visits do not --grant -time to actually enjoy what the -gardens have to offer," he pointed out. "If I -go anywhere officially I end up having my hand held by some m-manager of wherever and then -trailed around by those that want to be -spotted around me not for any interest in -speaking just wanting to be photographed so they can -pretend they are an associate." He let out a frustrated sigh, no point in hiding it from Mycroft, he would be able to tell he was stifling it otherwise. There were no example articles to show him in the paper either but he assumed Mycroft knew exactly the kind of person he was referring to.

To be quite honest, Mycroft had come to the conclusion that in a reality where his work was too easy, there was a good chance that he would end up using the shadows to create chaos elsewhere just so he had something to do once it spiralled out of control. If that were the case, they were very lucky that that was not the world they lived in.

"I don't have time to play nanny for errant politicians right now."

There was a harsh honesty to Mycroft's words, though it came from bluntness rather than cruelty. To put it quite simply, he had better, more pressing things to do. In fact, he had multiple better, more pressing things to do - and that list would likely only grow in size.

However, that being said, he did possess the common sense to quickly realise that whether he was to the King or a friend, it would not do to respond in such a way. He needed to give something. If he didn't he made himself seem abrasive, perhaps even spiteful.

"I'll have somebody from my department speak with them. The warning is lesser, but I've found the success rate is still suitably high. If the behaviour continues, then I can likely move it up my priority list."

Mycroft seemed to realise on his own before Albert could properly respond and he instead offered a compromise. His surprise melted into worry instead. While the compromise was acceptable, though not really what he had thought his friend would say, there was clearly more going on than he knew about and Mycroft was evidently under some strain. Which begged the question why it was he the King didn't know about it.

"Thank you," he said for the alternative offer and form of apology he had come to recognise in his friend. "Is -everything alright? You -do not --quite seem yourself." He fussed as he studied him.

Rope Sentences

"Nothing!"

The boy's reply came too quickly for it to be true - and, even if that were not the case, the evidence was quite literally all over him. Though his father had not quite managed to catch him in the act, Mycroft had not quite yet had the time to brush the crumbs from the biscuits he had stolen off the front of his shirt.

Of course, he made a significant effort to display his absolute best look of innocence. He hadn't done anything too bad, no? The kitchens would miss the biscuits, and he had been sure to be sneaky! Nobody had seen him and, thankfully, Mycroft's father hadn't come out of nowhere until after the boy had finished scoffing his ill-gotten gains. He didn't think any harm had been done - not really, all things considered.

"-Checking on you," he said in answer to the deflection that came so quick on the heels of the poor answer. He didn't point out the crumbs for now but he was internally quite tickled with what he was seeing, thinking it was the sign of a happy little boy who had become so comfortable in the house that he would steal biscuits from palace kitchens.

Mind you, that didn't mean he couldn't find a way to reduce the overall tension by encouraging the King to relax. Theoretically, that should be an easy enough task. It was obvious that the man was itching for a cigarette. Were he feeling more friendly, Mycroft wouldn't have hesitated to point out that he was more than welcome to light one up if it was going to ease the conversation. For now, though, he wanted to be petty for a moment - to leave the other man to sweat a little, and then suggest they both smoke later, as a peace offering of sorts.

"Nobody remembers those who preside over the quiet times," Mycroft pointed out, only after he was satisfied that the compliments he was being given had no ulterior motive. Well, no ulterior motive that he disliked, anyway. A little ego stroking in order to mend broken bridges was hardly the worst thing in the world, especially when he knew the words were not empty ones being said only with the aim of appeasing him.

"No, but they -have a much nicer -time of it all." He mused back for the other monarchs from quieter times. He didn't much care about notoriety and he supposed that was in part to blame for his current mood and circumstances. If only other heads of state could do the same, that would be great.

He still managed a laugh at the comment on him agreeing that an army of Mycrofts running everything would be beneficial if very boring for himself. "I am -blessed enough -to have one," he encouraged gently and finally left the pen alone, setting it down into the stand with another short sigh. "Besides, I think an army of you would be bored -stiff after -twelve months, you would -have righted the -wrongs, ironed the -creases and then face the -dreaded realisation that there is nothing left -to do." Peace achieved or utter chaos, who knew?

He could see that it was the King's own tartan - that was another reason why Mycroft had been sure not to be too scathing in his response. He didn't want his friend to feel insulted by any criticism of something personal, even if it was just a fabric design.

"It is not the loudest I have seen, but it is certainly louder than usual." Which was Mycroft's diplomatic way of saying that yes, in his opinion, it was a little too much. He was certain that other people would disagree, though. Fashion was like that, and Mycroft was aware that his own tastes could be rather strict when it came to how traditional they were.

"I think you are -right," Albert accepted with a short sigh as he looked down at the suit again, chuckling for the wish he was not about to try and start a new fashion trend. "No, I am -mindful of -how royal -fashion ends up in both -scrutiny and then on the -high street not -too long after." He peeled the jacket off at least so that the suit was not blaringly loud for his friend.

"I am -fond of the waistcoat," he commented as he took another brief look at it as he put the jacket back onto a hanger. "Though I think if I -should wear it out on a shoot I -would have a very -miserable day. If only something like this -could scare off -politicians and -courtiers." He laughed to himself, "but I shan't have it scaring off -friends." He reassured him, "-perhaps this one should be -saved strictly for -private luncheons with Lord and Lady -Dunglass."

Before he got into the car himself, Mycroft spent a moment talking to the driver, asking him to both send word that the King had been safely retrieved and, as promised, to take the long route back. Once that was done, he got into the back and, thankfully, managed to resist rolling his eyes at the sight of the other man perusing the newspaper as if he hadn't just caused citywide chaos.

"Well then," Mycroft said as the car started to move, "would you like to explain you aim today? I promise to reserve judgement until you have finished your thoughts."

Albert still felt a little bitter at having being caught and he knew that he was trapped now that the car door was closed, Lord Holmes was beside him and the car was moving. As tempting as it might have been to cause an even bigger scene with a tuck and roll from the back seat, he did know that this time the battle was lost. He continued to scan the article quietly for a moment, not actually taking in any of the information while his mind ran away with how best to word his intentions.

"I wanted to -prove to you, Tommy and whoever else that I am -clearly not seen enough, nor am I -engaging enough with the -public. I managed -to leave the -Palace, walk through Hyde -Park and climb into the underground without anyone on the way recognising me." He looked to him seriously, "Do you not think there is -something very wrong in that? As a -King, in my own -country, even my -city, I was not recognised until I was already on the underground and nearly at -Kew?"

Thad was in a tuxedo, but his bow tie was undone, and he had unbuttoned the top button awhile ago. These honey toity clothes were tight on his body. He looks to the other and his eyes try and take him in. Seeing if though his own drunken haze if he could believe the other saying he was a prince.

He had only been at this party because he was lookin for someone. First time his bounty hunting skills had taken him overseas.

“Is it nice?…Bein’ a prince?” Thaddeus asks, and reaches into his inner breast pocket of his tuxedo and pulls out a premium pack of cigarette from America. He liked the collectible cards that came with the packs.

“I didn’t realize, I was drinking with royalty..Should I bow?”

Bertie was however surprised that anyone had even been listening to him in his moody rambling, he had rather hoped that he had slipped under the radar of anyone else around him or that they might be polite enough not to bring it up that he had indeed said that out loud. He was almost embarrassed as the other man spoke up. His accent intrigued him though, clearly he was from the United States which made him infinitely more interesting than anyone else there in the moment.

"Depends on your -definition of nice," he offered back carefully, trying to engage but without embarrassing himself further. "I am -paraded around like a -prize -poodle and then -put back in the -box until the next socialite -party rolls around." He didn't want to sound entitled but well, he was a prince, that was not something he would be able to pull off in complaining about it.

"Strictly -speaking, yes you should -bow, though I would -curse you if you did." He was sure to flash a small smile at him and reach for the offered cigarette, never one to turn it down. "Thank you," came politely afterwards while he regarded the other man curiously. "I'd rather like a -conversation without the -formality and I am afraid, -better or worse, you have -engaged me and the -burden of responsibility now -falls upon you." A tease which was indicated by the gentle and practiced chuckle that followed.

Sharing the Holiday Season Prompts

Though Mycroft had privately counted himself among the King's friends for years now, it was the first time he had been invited to spend Christmas with the man and his family, and he already got the feeling that the invitation would become a regular one.

While he had known what to expect before accepting the invite, he couldn't deny that the other man's traditions felt strange. A lack of staff was not unusual - even as a child, the Holmes family had operated on a minimalistic staff rota, owing more to a paranoia around privacy than anything else - but eating leftovers? Call him a snob, but Mycroft couldn't help but feel that was wrong somehow.

Despite his talents when it came to displaying whatever image of himself he wanted to portray, some kind of hesitancy must have shown in Mycroft's body language as he picked at his food. If that weren't the case, then the King wouldn't have been looking at him in the way he was.

"I am not used to this," Mycroft confessed to his friend, quietly enough to reduce the risk of being overheard. As strange as he found the situation, he was a guest and therefore he didn't want to appear rude in any way. In addition to that, it was all a little embarrassing. Mycroft felt like the odd one out!

Albert had caught Mycroft picking awkwardly at his food and studied him with some concern in case he had felt he had an obligation to attend because of his rank. In some way it was a relief to hear that it was more because the celebrations were very different than he was used to and he couldn't hide the relief on his face for it.

"We -hear that -quite frequently," he chuckled warmly as he picked up his small glass of wine. "We have always -tried to -give the staff Christmas Day with their -families, and since I -believe we might find ourselves locked out of the -kitchen should we ever -try -cooking in there, we -have what's left." He gestured to the table, the haphazard buffet of the larger meal they had enjoyed the night before.

He did, however, remove his hand in response to the King's promise that he would remain by his side. Still, he refused to apologise for the action. If necessary, he was willing to go further and actually grab the man. Obviously, Mycroft hoped it wouldn't come to that, but his priority was getting him back to the palace, not keeping him happy.

"I will be joining you," Mycroft confirmed. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but considering the traffic in the city, there was a non-zero probability of the other man simply getting out of the car and disappearing again. He could ask the driver to lock the doors, yes, but if the King was desperate enough, he could order them unlocked again and there was a rather large chance the driver would listen.

"If you would like, we could talk during the journey. You could attempt to explain your thought process in this whole matter. I am sure it would be fascinating to hear what your aims were."

That wasn't an entirely false statement either. Did Mycroft really want to talk about whatever insanity had been driving the decision to go out alone? No. However, he knew that if he understood it, it would be far easier to prevent a repeat performance.

"One's thoughts -are often misunderstood -by those not under the -same restrictions." He commented regally, or so he believed as they walked towards where he supposed the car was meant to be. "If you will -grant me the --patience of your ear without -dismissing it as a -moment of madness, then I shall --tell you all." Except the names of those who had helped him but given his close friendship with his equerry it really wasn't a hard guess who had a hand in his escape.

Sure enough the car came into view and Albert knew his day out was over. He was miserable for being caught before he could get to Kew but he supposed that there were worse ways for him to have been picked up. At least Tommy had not literally sent out the cavalry looking for him. Though perhaps he had? Albert had no idea seeing as horses would struggle on the underground.

Jeeves and Wooster Sentences, Condensed

It wasn't a hideous suit. In fact, it wasn't even particularly bold or unusual, but Mycroft had always been sensitive to little changes, and the outfit was just difficult enough to trigger his sensibilities.

Were he speaking with anybody else, he wouldn't have reacted. Mycroft had a tremendously good impassive mask, but he was also legitimate friends with the King and therefore he felt at ease enough to display his thoughts to some degree. Even then, the sceptical look he had cast across the suit had been a subtle one. Without the close friendship they had developed, it seemed likely that it would have been missed entirely.

"It's different," Mycroft diplomatically stated. No, he supposed he didn't like it, but he was hardly going to say that, was he? Friends were honest with each other, but the outfit was not quite ugly enough to deserve that treatment.

"Was the look your idea, or did somebody suggest you try it?"

His diplomatic answer earned a bust of laugher from him all the same and he smoothed down the lapel of his jacket. He had gone for tweed which was his 'homely' suit preference. It was not something that was going to be worn officially if that was any comfort to Mycroft. He had his uniforms for that.

"Lord and Lady Dunglass -gifted it," he clarified for him as he looked in the mirror at the suit again. It had been tailor made for him to start off the autumn shoots. "Do you feel it's -too loud?" He checked carefully, running his finger down a subtle but bright red line that made up part of the tartan weave.

You're the Boss Sentences

While Mycroft and the King tended to agree on a great many things, they did have their disagreements from time to time. Really, this was a good thing. Considering the power dynamics at play, it was healthy for them to be able to speak their minds - and anyway, usually the disagreements were only over minor matters.

Sometimes, though, they found themselves clashing over things that were important. Often, Mycroft found himself backing down - or, at least, appearing to do so. Instead of needlessly fighting, he found it far easier to step back and get his own way by another approach.

Today, Mycroft was being stubborn instead. He knew he was right, so why shouldn't he say it? There was, however, one thing standing in his way:

He looked to Mycroft at his question and raised an eyebrow in some frustrated defiance. It lasted perhaps only a couple of seconds before he softened and sighed. "No, no I am -not." He relented, patting his pocket to go for a cigarette but resisting for Mycroft's sake, he knew he didn't like the smell of the tobacco sticking to him, he'd learned that at least. Though he was craving the relief he found in a cigarette all the same.

"I value your -opinion and I always will," he was sure to tell Mycroft with a short little gesture his way once he convinced himself not to start smoking. "I just thought I really -had it this -time. I would -have loved to have been a k-king in boring times, instead I -have -turbulence and nonsense all at once." Another frustrated noise escaped him as he shifted his jaw to one side in deep thought.

For Mycroft, it was at least satisfying to know that once he returned the King to the palace, he would face a scolding from other people too. It seemed unlikely to change his behaviour, but it should at least emphasis how there were consequences for his actions, even if they were relatively small in comparison to all the possibilities that could have occurred

"I do wish you wouldn't phrase it like that," Mycroft grumbled, avoiding the actual question he had been asked. "'Who sent you after me' makes me sound like my purpose is that of some kind of loyal hound." Which he supposed he was in some ways, but Mycroft was not in the mood to appreciate that.

Mercifully, the exit was not a long walk away, and it soon came into sight. Now they were nearing somewhere where it would be increasingly easy for the King to make a break for it should he wish to be foolish, Mycroft made the executive decision to reach out and place a gentle hand on the other man's shoulder to guide him in the right direction while simultaneously preventing him from running.

Albert just raised his eyebrows to himself in front of him where Lord Holmes couldn't see, it did make him sound like some loyal hound being sent out after him and in truth, it was exactly what had happened. Lord Holmes had used that magnificent head of his to work out where to find him and succeeded. "Well I am -sorry -to have phrased it in -such a way," he apologised at least, even if they both knew it was pretty close to the truth.

He stepped out into the daylight and looked around, though made no attempt to bolt away from Lord Holmes, it was perfectly possible for him to do so but he was sure to keep the other man close, not wanting to offend him further and risk a much bigger telling off having been caught already. The hand on his shoulder did cause him to turn his attention to it, looking away from the street and to the fingers gently resting on his jacket, his eyes drifting up to Lord Holmes a moment later, just a look. People were not supposed to touch him but he supposed he had earned himself some rule breaking in return having gone to the extreme lengths of stepping onto public transport to find him, he did nothing more for the gesture.