scots_wolf | A Spot of Hogswatch Trouble, Pt. 2

A Spot of Hogswatch Trouble, Pt. 2

[[from here]]

The next morning, Urquhart awakes to fine bed-linen and the unique shade of cool bright light that promises a sunny, snowy day outside.

He lifts his head, pulling his long blond hair free from the pillow where it had remained as it was, tangled from last night, while he'd been sleeping.

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"Oh, that sounds good," Urquhart says. "We will have one more day to reap the rewards, then leave with great regrets on the day after."

"Yes, I do my best to make sure timing is always on our side."

Urquhart walks over to the bed, sits, pulls the dressing gown apart to touch Moist's chests, and bends to kiss him.

"You're very good at it," he says. "And other things, but this especially."

Moist pulls him into a nice long kiss,

"I'm glad you approve."

"I very much approve of this entire outing," Urquhart says, his hair pooling around Moist's face and shoulders while he kisses him with abandon.

They will have to get ready soon and resume their parts, but that much time, they can spare.

Yes, they have the time to relax and in about an hour, they can start preparing.

The time passes far too quickly and soon Moist is frowning as he chooses a tie to go with his elegant suit that's somewhere between a tuxedo and a morning suit.

Urquhart helps him, as his own clothes are far easier to handle. He has brushed his hair to shimmer nicely against the black of his clothes, though.

"I think we should do rather well and be quite tired of dancing by the end of the night."

"Well, let's see how long it takes us," Urquhart says, opening the door as they are ready, and slipping back into the persona of long-suffering Hamish.

Moist's smile disappears as they go out the door and he fiddles with his tie and slicked down hair,

"I do hope this works out. You know how my father worries."

"It will," Urquhart says, certain they can be heard.

That is the point of the exercise.

"This is a nice town, affluent, with taste. There should be the right sort of decent girls to meet here. Your father will be be content."

"I hope so. I just want to go home to my own bed and not have to leave again,"

He adjusts his overcoat and heads towards the door while everyone watches them,

"Now where are we going?"

"To the town hall," Urquhart says. "You were out shopping earlier. Didn't you see it? Big stone building on the town square, with a clock tower and lots of festive lights."

"Oh yes, there, this does seem to be the thing. I don't remember how many women I promised to dance with their daughters."

"Do you remember that dancing is supposed to be fun?" Urquhart says, with a dramatic sigh.

The maids working in the main public room of the inn giggle and grin at 'Hamish'. He bows to all of them, then opens the front door for his 'master'.

Outside, it is dark and snowy.

Moist pulls up the collar of his overcoat,

"Yes, yes, I do know that."

Urquhart follows him outside, through the snowy streets and finally across the square. Instead of keeping to the lanes of footprints, Urquhart makes his way straight across the pristine white in the middle, fresh snow flecking his shoulders and the hem of his cloak.

With a sigh, Moist trudges after him, seeming to hide behind his bulk through he's not that much shorter.

Faces peek out at them and in front of the town hall, carriages pull up depositing elegantly dressed men and women.

Urquhart actually catches a woman who was slipping in the snow as she was getting out of her carriage, putting her back on her feet with a reassuring chuckle.

Moist goes inside and hands off his overcoat before looking around.

A group of older women and men descend on him and soon he's in the midst of dancing with a pout that sometimes is almost a smile.

Urquhart leans against a pillar near the bar serving the refreshments. He's sought out by maids interested in his person, and men who have heard rumours about that whisky from his home valley. He dispenses tiny dollops from his flask into eagerly proffered glasses, and can't promise to anybody that he'll be able to pinch his master's last remaining bottle without that being noticed.

At this rate, they will really run out before every interested person walks away with a bottle of which he'll think it's the only one.

Luckily the punch is generous on the liquor so most people are paying that much attention.

As the clocks start ringing midnight, Moist makes his way over to Urquhart looking rather put upon and his hair is slightly mussed,

"I want to sleep so we are going to leave now. I've said goodbye to everybody and my feet hurt."

"But..." Urquhart says, rolling his eyes.

He lets go of the girl that had attached herself to him, and follows Moist outside.

"Oh, I'm sure you can find her later just move,"

He gets his overcoat and sighs at the revels behind them that are getting wilder. Then goes out into the cold, Urquhart might catch the glimpse of a satisfied smile before he turns towards the inn.

Urquhart follows him, dark and tall and broad in the snow. People are partying and toasting each other and cheering, but when they pass through a lonely alley, Urquhart pulls Moist into a dark corner, and closes his black cloak around them both, turning them almost invisible before kissing Moist.

No, this couldn't wait until the inn.

"I like your world," he says.

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morethanprops - 2010-12-12 02:58 (UTC) - Expand

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scots_wolf - 2010-12-12 03:01 (UTC) - Expand

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