houseofcards_rp | [ota] the crown weighs on me

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.

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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?"

The Relief is brief, more a release of breath than a proper sigh. The actual Sip gets his shoulders easing into something in the Chives realm of Natural.

The Question, however, gets an actual Stutter of the physical variety.

"...less than perfect, sir, but nothing that can't be survived."

Close enough to Admitting he's been in a State since David's reappearance. Not really something one Said to the King, after all.

"I hope everything is going well with your wedding plans, at least. I haven't yet given my congratulations." He said, setting his cup down after a moment.

"Annie is a fine girl, I'm sure you'll both be very happy together."

Well-played, King. The Worry somewhere almost behind his eyes is smoothed, replaced by almost Contentment for half a second.

"...she is, sire." Fond is something sometimes hard to Discern from a blank voice, but Clive might note it. "It's... nothing short of a blessing she's agreed." But enough about him. "One would be rather more concerned how you're doing, milord."

What with the Drinking and not wanting Tea.

"Do I seem to be doing poorly?" He asked, tipping his head slightly to look at Chives curiously without really giving much away. Or at least he hoped he wasn't giving too much away. That was the trick to this, really.

"Of course not, sire."

A King of Spades who didn't Appear to be doing perfectly fabulously wouldn't last long. And a butler who didn't Ask anyway wasn't worth his salt.

"Which is why one feels compelled to ask rather more directly."

"...I'm fine, really. Just a lot of thinking to do."

Which was not, he supposed, what Chives was hoping to hear out of him at all.

"There isn't anything to worry about."

Not quite, but it will have to be Enough. It doesn't do to question a King overly much. Or, well, not to pick the more Troublesome piece to question.

"...isn't there, sire?"

David? Something to Worry about. Julien? Something to Worry about.

"Nothing for you, At least, to worry over." Clive attempted, looking up at Chives carefully.

"Somethings are meant to be private worries, and private worries alone."

"And must be, sir?"

Couldn't be given even to the Silent Institution standing here, watching the teacup? It's an offer that has, at least, to be Made, if not taken.

"A king looks weak when he worries, does he not?"

And a Spade King had little room for apparent weakness. The hounds were already circling about like fiends.

"And a king looks foolish when doesn't admit his worries. Everyone's got them."

It was all about the Audience. Still, it's clearly time to duck his head calmly.

"I'll be back for the cup, sire."

It was foolish, he supposed, but it didn't stop him from lingering over it in silence. Being open with people had never been his strong suit.

Ever.

"Thank you, Chives." Was all he said as the Butler ducked out of the room, though. Eventually, perhaps, he would share his worries with the man.

Just not today.

[ota] the crown weighs on me

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