[ota] the crown weighs on me

[wouldbetrump]

He hadn't expected some things when he took up the rank of King. And frankly all he could do is stare at the papers on his desk as if they were not there. He'd had a visit from his lovely Grandmother earlier that day, half-listened to her opinions on who he should name Ace in place of Julien, and half-listened to her congratulate him on his decision to remove the 'troublesome' factor. It was always a loving conversation with Vivienne Bernard, oh yes.

He and Michael had been avoiding each other rather well, all things considered. And for a man Clive owed an apology to, the King found himself completely devoid of words.

Instead he felt...he felt as if everyone was watching him with hungry eyes. Half to win his favor, the other half waiting for a sign of weakness before ripping him apart. Heh, maybe he was starting to under David a little too much. Paranoia was starting to creep into everything. And David was another thing that worried him, on top of it. He'd always respected the man, but there was certainly going to bad blood there- even if it wasn't outwardly admitted to.

Reaching out to the side, he picked up his glass of scotch and took a sip of it before leaning back in his chair. He hardly noticed when there was a knock on his door.

Comments

[falsepretences]

He knew that face. He'd worn it, time and again, after chats with his own mother as well as talks with Vivienne - and really, the upside to being the black sheep these days was that he didn't get discussions about strategy and tactics any longer.

"I've come to take your paperwork away," he said, a bit dryly. "Long day?"

[wouldbetrump]

"They aren't finished," he said after a moment, setting his glass down slowly before glancing up at Jordan for a moment. "I'll send them down later." Which was not so promising as the later was left open ended.

"You don't have to stand there looking at me like that."

[falsepretences]

"I can sit instead," Jordan said. Really, the reports were just an excuse anyway, and he slips into one of the chairs across from Clive's desk, crossing his legs at the ankle.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Or just stare into the whiskey.

[wouldbetrump]

"Not really," he said, reaching out to poor himself another glass before pouring one for Jordan as well. His cousin didn't seem too likely to be leaving any time soon.

"Just the usual, nothing to worry over."

[falsepretences]

This, he thought as he took the glass, sounded somewhat familiar. Like a conversation he and Clive had had last fall, right after Mother had been banished, and his cousin hadn't left him alone, then.

He just eyed him, for a moment, before he took a drink of whiskey.

"Are you going to use the one year between us as an excuse to feed me a line of bullshit?"

[wouldbetrump]

"I thought I would use my rank," he said, glancing up at Jordan for a moment as he fell silent again. He wasn't really sure why people thought it was necessary for him to discuss things with them- just because he was talented at getting it out of them.

[falsepretences]

Turnabout was fair play. Either that or it just wasn't healthy to keep everything bottled up inside; probably both, but more the former than the latter. "Novel, Your Majesty," Jordan drawled as he took another drink. "I hear the Joker formerly known as the King of Spades has been making a stir."

[piqued]

To be Fair, a butler's knock isn't exactly a Noisy, Attention-Grabbing thing. It's just a brief, quiet Rap of gloved knuckles, meant to be heard beneath a conversation, not to Interrupt but to trigger an Awareness.

And to be Fair, the Look Clive is being shot by the same butler isn't so much for Favour or Weakness as out of Silent Opinion about the fact the King's having a glass of scotch when clearly it is Time for Tea. Not on the clock, not in the schedule; just from the innate Sense butlers seemed to have about the World and Moods.

Which is why, ultimately, there's a butler simply Standing with the tea service beside the paper-strewn desk rather than falling immediately into Setting. Not because of Politics. Not because of waiting to be the World being Confusing.

Just because Chives isn't completely Certain if the teacup would be swallowed up and lost forever in the King's Paperwork and Silence.

[wouldbetrump]

It took him a moment acknowledge Chives, setting his glass aside and looking up the butler and sighing a little. "I don't need the tea, Chives."

He needed things to just blur and drown out into a mindless numb for a while. Sadly tea wasn't going to get him to that fine point very well.

[piqued]

The King Didn't Need Tea.

It was not particularly that the Statement felt like being slapped across the face. It didn't entirely, after all, particularly not if he Focused on the fact his purpose wasn't to Direct but to Serve. Still.

That wasn't the sort of statement that came with a Chives man actually leaving so much as... suddenly being completely adrift in the presence of other human beings.

Give him a moment, Clive.

[wouldbetrump]

He hadn't intended that to be a slap in the face. It was yet one more thing to add on his long list of mistakes since becoming a face, he thought, looking up at Chives. For a moment he started to say something, before thinking he'd probably regret it and shut his mouth again.

"You can set it on the side table," he said after a moment, sighing a little before pouring himself more scotch. It was an apology of sorts, he supposed. Even if a poor one.

[piqued]

It's hardly a Direct apology, but for this? It certainly serves Quite Well. It gives him something to Do, an Action to take. And really, isn't that All he's ever wanted?

"...very good, sir." Moving to the side table is an easy enough thing, head tilting just slightly as he automatically moves toward preparing a cup. "Will... you humour me just a touch?"

One sip.

[wouldbetrump]

"I don't suppose saying no would be a welcome response," he said, sighing as he set the scotch aside for a moment and waited until Chives had the cup of tea to hand over. And then two sugars, and a bit of creamer later, Clive was sipping at the drink.

"How have you been, Chives?"

[threecardmonty]

He'd taken the damn job to indulge his habit of pestering a certain Ten, a Ten who promptly ran off to hang out at the Clubhouse. Monty considered it mighty unsportsman-like of Mr. Fox. Still, he did his job, visiting the Spades once a week, sometimes napping in his office, sometimes whittling (making sure he cleaned up his own mess so as to not offend their butler none) but mostly shooting the breeze with the lovely kitchen staff and other low to middlin' Numbers when said butler was off and about his duties.

It was something to do and not what you'd call Real Work.

So he's that unhappy to be wearing an actual, god awful suit and presenting himself before the Spade king. Didn't help none that he has a feeling Elisha's laughing his fool head off over sticking him with the damn job about now.

"Am I interrupting?"

[wouldbetrump]

"Should you be?" Clive asked, looking up at Monty curiously. What on earth could the Club's now want?

He wasn't particularly thrilled, to say the very least. The presence of other suits in his office, particularly of late, did not bode well.

[threecardmonty]

"According to His Maj--esty," he recovers in time to formalize his nickname for Elisha, "I should be.

"He had himself some concerns about a visitor."

[wouldbetrump]

Oh joy, Clive thought as he sat up a little and set his glass aside. He motioned for the seat, if Monty cared for it.

"And what might those concerns be?" He asked, sniffing a little as he watched the other man carefully.

[threecardmonty]

Monty sighs. He'd damn well get a mother loving espresso machine for getting stuck with this duty. "He'd like to know if there's a problem between the Clubs and Spades," he pauses, "seeing as how Mr. Lucisano saw fit to threaten Miss Eileen's bodyguard recently."

[wouldbetrump]

Great. Just....Great. He would have to tell Katya that the Clubs no longer needed to feel left out, and that yet once more the Spades had cemented the fact that they were the least behaved, most bullheaded, and aggressively violent suit ever.

"Not that I am aware, Mr. Montgomery. Why ever would Mr. Lucisano be threatening your Ace's bodyguard?"

[spysinspades]

'Hardly notice' didn't matter much to David, as the knock had been token at best. He was opening the door and slipping in ever as his knuckles still made the sound.

Perhaps it was a bit of masochism, or hurt pride, that made David search out his replacement for a bit of hello.

Or maybe it was just to rattle the poor man. It was too bad, David has always wanted to be a nice man. Honorable was the closest he'd ever managed to get, and look where that had gotten him.

[wouldbetrump]

He glanced up, expecting Chives again with food, when the door opened. He had a comment about being fine ready on his lips, but the world seemed to freeze for a long moment when his gaze feel upon David.

"My Lord," he breathed out, standing with enough clumsy speed that it had to look as if a fire had been lit under him. "I..." He didn't even know what to say, or how to say it.

[spysinspades]

"That's a rather silly form of address, don't you think? Considering current circumstances." David wandered in, hands tucked comfortably into his pockets and a bland smile as he took in the room.

"I was under the impression congratulations were in order, King of the Spades." The bow David offered with that was just this side of too big, elegant thought it might be. And that bow did nothing to hide the way his eyes managed to take in everything - from the paperwork to the scotch.

[wouldbetrump]

"Once a King, always a King- isn't that what they say?" He asked, blinking at the bow David offered him, and the congratulations. Somehow, he thought, he didn't feel any better to have the old King bow to him.

And being faced with David was merely a reminder that he was not, and ever would be able to fill the whole the man had left behind. For better or worse, Clive thought, the Spades loved David. Loved the man so much that he'd never be more than King that stood in the man's shadow at this rate.

"I...thank you." He said, after a moment, remembering himself as he glanced around the now orange, brightly decorated office. For a room that looked so warm, it certainly didn't feel it. "Is there...anything we can do to help you settle in?"

[spysinspades]

"Is it? Hm." Well, when they throw you out there's not much of a point, is there?

"I'm sure you'll manage well enough. You just have to learn all their names. Everything else... falls into line." At least, that had been the way he worked. He hadn't been a good King on a log time. He had no place to give advice.

One last glance around the office that had been his... what seemed like a very long time ago. "No need, your lady Queen was good enough to pass along most of my belongings.

[wouldbetrump]

"Doesn't seem to be so easy." He said, his shoulders falling a little as he looked down. After a moment his eyes came back up to David's and took a slow breath. "They loved you, well...most of them. Pretty sure the opinion of me runs the line of 'well, he's no David.'" It wasn't the most heartwarming comparison.

As for Katya handing over David's things, he nodded a little. That was...a good start he supposed. "Regardless, if there is anything I could do My-" he stopped himself, almost wincing. "David."