houseofcards_rp | (no subject)

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The Clubs' castle was bustling with the holidays just now. It smelled like trimmings and cooking and the sweet burn of good pine in the fireplaces. Eileen tended to smile more than her usual wont these days. Everyone seemed to smile more than usual, honestly.

Too bad Lancelot was not headed back there.

There was a part of him as he raised his hand to knock on Julien's study door that hoped the man was out. These days... well, they hadn't truly gotten along in years, but now it all seemed worse than normal. He didn't want a black eye if he was going to be escorting Elani anywhere.

He knocked again.

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"It is open," Julien called.

The first thing Lance might notice, upon entering, is that Julien's desk is not centered with the doorway, instead off to the side and set so he can see whoever enters. The other thing would be that the window is covered and there's nothing in the room intended for a visitor's comfort. This room was where he did what work was required of him and he didn't wish anyone to feel inclined to stay long and chat and thus distract him from it.

Yes, this means there's only one chair. The chair Julien is sitting in.

Lancelot didn't particularly want to stay and chat anyway.

He pushed in the door, already frowning, gaze turning to catch Julien instead of lingering on the space where instincts said the focal point of the room should be. "I don't have a tendancy of entering other people's rooms without knocking. I thought you of all people would appreciate that." The door was closed behind him.

It was always strange, catching Julien at real work. Desk work.

Julien had more of it than one might imagine, he just tended to do it at odd hours when less people would be out and about to catch him at it.

He looked up at Lancelot and raised his eyebrows even as he set down his pen. "I suppose I do. To what do I owe the pleasure, Lancelot?"

It wasn't as if the Jack had made a habit out of seeking him out lately, especially here.

"Elani."

Lance crossed his arms across his chest and didn't stray far from the door. "You invited her to sing and I'd like to know why-- if you can muster up an honest answer to give, that is."

If possible, Julien's eyebrows went still higher.

"I believe I told her of the dire need for something of the arts within these halls. What sort of nefarious thing do you think I could possibly do to her in front of a rather sizable audience, Lance?"

Edited 2011-11-28 03:53 (UTC)

That look, on Julien, meant nothing good. Innocence in general sat poorly on him.

"I'm sure you could figure something out, but that wasn't what I was implying at all." Lance leaned back against the door and rubbed a hand over his face. "Since when to the Spades need the arts-- and since when do you consider singing one of them?"

Really, Lancelot, your suspicion cuts him to the core.

"What exactly are you looking for me to say here, Lance? I'm sure we could cut right to the end of the conversation with that, since nothing I have to say on the subject seems to be what you want to hear."

"True enough." And it was. He could think nothing good of Julien when the man had proven himself worthy of little more time and time again. "Julien, stay away from her."

He could hear an echo of the words he'd said to Julien months ago, after Andrew died. He'd been talking about Eileen at the time.

And he could see just how well that had worked out.

Julien snorted. "Don't worry. I have absolutely no plans to sweep your precious songstress off her feet and steal her away from you."

Lance straightened slightly. "It's not-- she's not-- I'm hardly worried about your charm." He stepped toward the desk with a shake of his head. "I'm worried about your intentions."

Julien still hadn't moved from his seat and even now he just watched Lancelot approach, apparently unconcerned.

"My intentions? Or your own, Lancelot? She is a rather sweet young thing, isn't she?"

It was close enough a reminder of what Victor had said at the ball that Lance stopped, stiff. He pointed a finger at the Ace. "Whatever games you're playing, leave us out of it."

Us?

Julien leaned forward, over the desk. "You're an us now? I suppose I should offer you my congratulations. How very sudden."

He was close enough to slap a hand down on the desktop. It rang in the otherwise quiet room. "Enough, Julien! Elani and I are friends." It sounded wrong though, didn't it? Wrong enough that he backed off a step, paced away and then back. The truth was... the truth was they were friends. They were.

"And it shouldn't matter. Her, me, both of us. Because I'm sick of it and she deserves better. We're not pieces to be shuffled around a board for your amusement and gain."

Julien straightened, stood.

His voice, when he spoke, was cold, "then you'll be pleased to know I am not at all amused. Question my motives all you like, I've given you my answer. You should go."

The cold was returned in kind. Lance calmed and held Julien's eye. "Yes, you always give me an answer."

And he headed to the door.

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