The ballroom was buzzing with noise, draped in opulence, the tinkling of the large crystal chandelier in the middle being the cherry on top. fatuus filled in every corner of the large chamber, even the Tsaritsa herself was present. You on the other hand, were nowhere to be found…
The heavy bass and deafening noise of the guests muffled through the terrace doors. Outside, the biting cold air was enough to numb someone’s ability to walk.
Smoking in the balcony of the Palace, resting your arms on the railing, a cigarette between your index and middle finger, you flicked it ever so slightly. Pierro’s endless orders were driving you mad, and you desperately needed a break.
You stare at the infinite sky, finding peace in doing so. It looks dazzling tonight, you think to yourself, northern lights decorating the firmament.
Dottore would undoubtedly scold you if he caught you like this. It would be even worse if Pantalone—
You heard the balcony doors creak. “Oh? What a lovely surprise we have here.”
Speak of the devil.
“Regrator.” You say turning your head to look at him, dissatisfied.
“M’lady.” he approaches you with a smug, the smell of liquor seeping through.
Archons, you wish you could snatch that smirk off his face. “I did not expect to find you here on this fine evening… with a cigarette nonetheless.” he sarcastically says as he mimics your posture.
You don’t even bother hiding the cigarette, he’ll find a way to audit you either way. “I’m heading back inside soon. Pierro will start looking for me if I’m gone much longer,” you murmur, avoiding Pantalone’s gaze while taking a small puff.
He lights up a cigarette he had just pulled from his silver case before speaking. “You should avoid Dottore then. I doubt he’ll be pleased with you smelling like acrid smoke.” The premium tobacco left a sweet, aromatic scent.
“Well, you’d better leave. If he catches a whiff of it on me, I’ll tell him it came from your case.” You look at him with a sarcastic smirk, flicking your cigarette.
He lets out an annoyed laugh and takes a deep puff, clearly displeased with your joke. “Oh, please! He wouldn’t mistake your cheap cigarettes for mine, gods know who you smuggled them from.”
.
.
.
Silence enveloped the two of you, broken only by the soft rustle of the breeze and the buzzing murmur of the ballroom.
Pantalone stood within an arm reach, attired in a Russian sable coat lined with expensive silky fur, looking every bit of a wealthy aristocratic bastard.
“I must say,” he breaks the silence, tapping his cigarette. “You look exceptionally beautiful tonight.” He glares you up and down.
You gaze at him, puzzled, taking in the glint of his sliver rings in the moonlight. “Oh, thank you…?” He caught the flash of your confusion and let out a soft, mocking chuckle.
“It must be quite suffocating,” he abruptly changes the subject, gazing back at the sky. “To carry the name of the Second Harbinger like a velvet noose.” he takes a long, measured drag. letting the words hang between you both like a threat.
You cut him off because he continues, snapping at him. “Keep my marriage out of your mouth.” you bite back. aggressively grinding out your cigarette against the stone railing until the orange ember dies down. “If I wanted someone to analyze my marriage, I would ask. Until then, get the fuck out of my face”
A slow insufferable smirk appears on his face as he exhales the smoke in your face, causing you to choke on the tobacco smoke. “Language, my dear.” he says. his voice smooth, laced with venom making you clench your jaw.
You’re well aware that he’s deliberately trying to push your buttons, yet you keep falling for his traps. Taking a deep breath, you turn on your heel and head towards the door.
As you slightly open one of the terrace doors, letting the bright light shine through, Pantalone purrs one last time, “Please do convey my regards to the Doctor.” Although you can’t see his face, but you know he has that annoying smirk on his face. You make your exit.
The heavy door closes shut, you are back to the buzzing sound of the fancy ballroom.
