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You should have known better. How did you ever think this time would be different? Your knife found its target with a dull thunk. And another followed. You knew what people like Dartmouth thought of people like you and you fell into his broad, rower's arms regardless. And so soon after you embarrassed yourself in front of Oscar. Your pre-throw breath was interrupted by a soft voice in the distance. Fuck. And now Oscar was home.
Aka: You are an N-B/Trans man in Victorian England living as a "bachelor" with the famous playwright. Softened and jaded by his time at Reading Gaol, he may have developed a soft spot for his young, sharp-tongued housemate.