cont. with @canonfoddcr from here
The pleased smile on his face, brought on by the gorgeous cufflinks and the knife oil, immediately drops when he opens the jewellery box. The Duke turns to face Lip with a totally unimpressed, perhaps even slightly offended, glare.
"Lip Hennessey," he scolds in the tone one would use for a misbehaving cat, "What have I told you about tacky gifts?"
They make a token attempt to hide that smile as he scolds them, but they're not actually aiming to succeed. Much like a misbehaving cat, in fact, they're encouraged by the attention.
βTacky?β They repeat, mock-wounded. They press one manicured hand to their chest, fixing the Duke with the full force of their wide, wine-dark eyes. βBut, darling, you've only seen part of the gift so far.β
The smile is back, to any extent that it ever left. βWhy don't you pick it up?β


















