#oflords

ambrose wouldn’t exactly say he enjoyed sitting in the living space, awkwardly waiting for arthur to whisk byron away. he simply sat there out of politeness–a servant had come to tell him that they had a caller, and when he asked for their card, he was informed byron had already accepted it. arthur didn’t even bother to leave ambrose a calling card. it grated on his nerves, as if to imply arthur was superior to them and–

ambrose cut off his brooding, having stared into the fireplace for a tad too long. he turned his head sharply to gaze at the man intent on replacing him. “so,” he drawled, desperately wishing he had something in his hand to drink, even ale at the least. “you and my brother are going on an outing, then? going by the club?”

he did his best to seem lazy and uncaring. arthur didn’t even deserve his rivalry, damn it. ambrose stretched himself out in his chair, resting his head in his hand, as if it were too heavy to hold with only his neck. “nothing untoward, i hope.”