“All guests should see to it that they leave the Manor in the same state they entered it in.”

“I can see it pains you to admit this, dear sister. Don’t strain yourself. Options limited? I suppose it’s out of the question that I might have some sort of defence mechanism after being LEFT BEHIND.”

Oh, VERY mature.

“I do understand, as much as you seem convinced I don’t. I would’ve given anything to go with Winter, or you. I didn’t expect either of you to stay— I simply wanted to leave with you. I suppose so, but I won’t apologise. If it’s any consolation, I don’t. Hate your guts.”

Rolls eyes. Child.

Whitley raises an eyebrow at her in a silent question. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭? Didn’t she know it was impolite to stare?

“I – you —“ He huffs, stomping his foot in frustration. “Oh! We have plenty of YOUR KIND employed to do it, yes. Gods forbid I wish to see my home left in a clean condition.”

“. . I know. Still, I had some fantastical ideas when I was a little younger. Perhaps that one of you would come back for me, or that I might be brave enough to run away. Silly. Haven’t a clue. You certainly seem busy. I suppose I figured Winter and the General would take me.”

Really? Bold. Very well. He would stare back, gaze scathing. Two could play at that game.

“I suppose it’s out of the question for me to have some peace in this house.”

“That’s not what I—“ He pauses, brows furrowed. “Oh, nevermind. I suppose I can’t expect YOU to understand, farm boy. That would explain your. . clothes.”

“Hm. You would be surprised.” Disturbed again. He huffs in annoyance, but there is also an air of longing to it. “But I suppose you’re right. Perhaps I’m confusing peace with. . emptiness.”