Chapter Text
As it has been known throughout history, a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
Whether or not the truth of such a statement is based on the occupants of a town, or a simple rumor gown awry, who is to truly say. In terms of your own mother, she is one of the many who whole-heartedly believe that, despite the intentions or content of character of such a man, he is the rightful property of one or both of her own daughters.
It had been such a pleasant morning at Woodhurst Cottage before your mother had come into the room after her walk to town, shedding her hat and coat in a flurry before descending upon the room. Were this not a common occurrence, you may have startled, but your hand barely tremors from the needlework in your lap.
“My dear husband, you must hear the news! Snowdin park is let at last!” Her tone is anything but cool and collected, bordering on hysteria from the excitement. The maid servant had nearly dropped her coat she had caught as Mrs. Reed continues to shed outer layers upon her, shooing the lady away once satisfied.
Without glancing up from his novel, your father tilts his head in her direction in acknowledgement. “No, I had not.”
“Oh, but it is! Mrs. Clover was just there and told me all about it! You must know, she says the residence is taken up by two young men from large fortunes from up North. They came down on Monday to see the place and were so taken with it they called for Mr. Grahams to take possession of it immediately!”
“So soon?” you ask, looking up from the spot in your work to give an inquisitive brow to your mother. She turns to you in a bit of a huff, as if the mere notion of your disbelief had offended her greatly.
“Well, no! Such a move would be impossible in this type of weather with so little time. No, indeed their servants are to occupy the house by the end of the week and the masters will be there before the fall harvest!”
“What is their surname?” Your father asks.
“Serif.”
“Are they single or married?”
“Oh, both single to be sure my dear! Two single men of large fortunes; four to five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”
From her spot next to yours on the sofa, you share a knowing look with your younger sister. Hiding the roll of your eyes, a small smirk breaks Sophie’s otherwise stoic expression as your father sits up in his chair, adjusting his glasses as he finally sets down his book.
“How so? How will their moving here affect them?”
“My dear Mr. Reed, how can you be so tiresome!” Using the end of her fan, she smacks him across the shoulder with no real malice. “You must know I am thinking of their marriage to one of them!”
“What makes you thinks that out of all the silly girls in the neighborhood, these fine gentlemen will fall for our girls?” He gives you a wink as your mother huffs in annoyance, a playful mirth in his eye before turning back to his animated wife.
“You know more than any that those other girls aren’t half near as handsome as our young Sophie is! Only think of what an establishment would do for one of our daughters! Sir Grillby and Lady Embers are determined to go, merely on the account that they have a supposed history with the gentlemen. Indeed, you must go and put in a good word for them or else it will be impossible for us to go!”
“I see no such occasion. You and the girls may go, or send them by themselves, which may be better, for your beauty equally matches theirs, perhaps one of the Serif’s might like you best of the party.”
The shared snickers of you and your sister are poorly hidden under coughs, turning away from your parents and gently patting Sophie on the back as she catches her breath. Thankful enough, Mrs. Reed is too absorbed by the compliment to notice the obvious jesting on the sidelines, placing a gloved hand to her cheek.
“My dear, you flatter me! While I may have had my fair share of beauty in the past, I cannot pretend to be anything extraordinary now. With two daughters full grown, a woman ought to give up over thinking her own beauty.”
Shaking herself from the flattery, she straightens and set a serious face. “But my dear, you must indeed go and see these Serif gentlemen when they come into the neighborhood!”
“I dare say one of the Mr. Serifs will be very glad to see you; and I shall send a few lines by you to assure him my hearty consent to the marrying which ever he choses of the girls, though I must throw in a good word for our eldest.”
“You take great delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves!” Mrs. Reed laments.
The conversation continues back and forth, the amusement evident on your father’s face as he continues in vexing your mother. After almost a half hour, the conversation became too much for your poor mother and she loudly declared the need to retire to her chambers. Without sparring a second glance, your father gives a half-hearted wave to her departure, settling back in the armchair by the fire. Sometimes, it comes to mind, just how strange such a pair came to be joined in union.
Mrs. Reed’s mind was less difficult to understand, being a woman of slow understanding, little information, and mean temper. The business of her life was to get her daughters married, fancying herself nervous when becoming disconcerted. While sharing a want for prosperous marriage of his lineage, as is common for those in standing such as yours, Mr. Reed was a man of quick wit, sarcastic humor, and experience through his three and twenty years of just how to properly jab at his wife.
You must suppose that the phrase “opposites attract” had some sort of truth behind it, though twisted and obscure that truth may be.
⊱ • ──── ❈ ──── • ⊰
It had always been the intention of Mr. Reed to wait on the Serif Brothers. He was amidst the earliest to visit them. Till the evening after the visit was paid, none of the family had knowledge of his doing so. It was disclosed in the following manner.
Observing his youngest daughter employed in trimming a hat, he suddenly addressed her with “I hope Mr. Serif will like it, Sophie.”
“She is not in any way to know what Mr. Serif likes, either of them,” your mother says resentfully, “since we are not to visit.”
“You forgot, mamma, that we shall meet them at the assemblies, and that Lady Embers promised to introduce us.” You say with certainty.
“Lady Embers will do no such thing! She has a daughter of her own. To do so would make her hypocritical and a selfish woman, I have no opinion of her.”
Mr. Reed rounds the back of the couch, laying a supportive hand on your mother’s shoulder where he kneads it. “Nor more shall I. And I am glad to find that you are not dependent on her serving you.”
Mrs. Reed deigned not to make any reply, but unable to contain herself to silence, began to question her daughters.
She says your name in a huff, fanning herself in her vexation. “When is your next ball to be?”
“Tomorrow fortnight.”
“Aye, it is so,” she cried, “and Lady Embers does not come back till the day after; so, it will be impossible for her to introduce us for she will not even be in attendance at New Home assembly!”
“Then, my dearest, you may have the opportunity and advantage to introduce yourself to him, giving him the most genuine experience you can offer.”
“Impossible, Mr. Reed, impossible! When I am not acquainted with their family myself, how can you be so teasing? I would be an embarrassment, how uncouth to show such a display.” Shouldering away his hand, she stands so quickly she almost stumbles from standing upon her own skirts, which only causes her to become increasingly frustrated. “What is the meaning of speaking such nonsense?”
Your father, used to such outbursts, barely batted an eye as he straightened himself, leaning against the mantle place. “A fortnights acquaintance is very little, that is certain. One cannot really know who a man truly is by the end of a fortnight. But, if we do not venture to make connection, then somebody else will. And after all, Lady Embers and her daughter must stand their chance. And therefore, if you decline the office, I will take it upon myself.”
The girls all stared at Mr. Reed.
“What can be the meaning behind your stunned silence? Do you all consider the forms of introduction, and the societal stress place upon them, to be nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you there.”
“Father, forgive me, but whatever do you mean?” Sophie asks, voice timid and full of confusion at his riddle-like way of speaking.
“Never mind what he means, child! I am so sick of those Serifs!” cried Mrs. Reed.
“Well, I am sorry to hear that; but why did you not be so forefront with it before? If I had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called on them. That is very unlucky; but as I have paid the visit, I am afraid we cannot escape the acquaintance now.”
The wave of astonishment from the ladies was just what Mr. Reed had wished for. Though out of the three, his wife surpassed the rest, though when the first tumultuous wave of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had been expecting the entire while.
“How good of you, my dear Mr. Reed. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and such a good joke too, that you should have gone in the morning and not spoke of it till now.”
Much too tired from the raptures of his wife, Mr. Reed leaves the room with a simple bow, retiring to his study no doubt. When the door was shut, she turned back towards yourself and sister with happiness in her countenance.
“What an excellent father you girls have; I do not know how you will ever make amends for his kindness; or me either for that matter. At our time of our lives, it is not so pleasant, I can say, to be making acquaintances every day. However, for your sakes, we will do anything. Oh, Sophie, my love, though you are the younger of you two, I dare say that one of the Serifs will dance with you at the next ball.”
The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing just how soon the Serifs would return your father’s visit and determining when they should ask them to dine with them.
⊱ • ──── ❈ ──── • ⊰
In the coming days, not all that Mrs. Reed, with assistance of her two daughters, could ask her husband of a satisfactory description of either Serif brother resulted in a desirable reply. All three attacked him in various ways; through distant surmises, bare-faced questions, and ingenious suppositions; but he eluded the skill of them all; and they were at last resigned to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbors.
It was through the coming days that more information of this mysterious Serif family was brought to light, namely from the Clovers, a family which yours was particularly intimate with. Mrs. Clover was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable neighbor to Mrs. Reed. The Clover family had several children, as was common with rabbit monster families, the eldest of which was a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, who was your intimate friend.
It was Charlotte who had meet you at the gate, followed closely by the two youngest of the Clovers, embracing you warmly before greeting the rest of your party. Too busy with the notions of talking about the latest findings of Snowdin park, you were swept up into conversation upon crossing the threshold of their abode.
Bonbon, who had just turned fifteen herself, stands with Flopsy, but twelve, awaiting you in the hallway. They both shared the same blue fur of Charlotte and Mr. Clover, though their hue was not nearly as vibrant as the eldest’s.
“There has been news of Mr. Serif, the youngest! He has been to town and Sir Grillby has called upon him-”
“-and he has brought 40 servants with him-”
“-and he’s very handsome!”
The two girls cut the other off to finish their sentences, bubbling over with excitement as they recall their findings to all those with hearing ears.
“Save your breath to cool your porridge, girls! Let the Reed’s take their coats off before you bombard them with idle prattle.” Mrs. Clover lightly scolds them, unraveling herself from your mother’s arm to guide the girls back into the house, away from the doorway. Their conversation continues, just as quick and hurried, as if keeping the details to themselves would do them ill.
“They said he wore a red scarf and a brown coat!” Flopsy states, ushering herself into the sitting room first, brushing the fur on her down-turned ears with an air of nervously.
Her sister is quick to sit beside her, waving her arms about. “He declared to Sir Grillby that he loves to dance! He’s going to be there at the Assembly rooms!
“-on Saturday!”
“-with six ladies and four gentlemen-“
“Nah,” Bonbon looks at her sister incredulously, “it was eleven ladies and seven gentlemen.”
“Too many ladies.” You whisper to Charlotte, to which she gives you a knowing smirk in return as the young girls continue their banter. “I hope he has a strong constitution.”
“And a fondness for silly young woman.” she retorts, just loud enough for you to hear, a merry chuckle shared behind your hands.
“Oh, you must tell me more, Flopsy! What else has Sir Grillby spoken of?” Mrs. Reed’s attention is now utterly on the youngest as she regales her findings with eagerness. With as much grace as one could muster, you slip from the room the moment the adults are entirely focused on the young women, Charlotte following behind your example with light footsteps.
Exiting the house, you follow the familiar twist and turns of the path leading into the back garden of Clover Lodge. Now sitting on the coattails of summertime, the last of the hollyhocks in bloom with their beautiful displays of reds and pinks contrasting them nicely with the greenery of the thick hedges which act as a natural barrier. The occasional zinnia or marigold poke out from the tall grass, the pathway itself lined by bundles of foxglove, painting a most enjoyable scene. Yes, the outside air was much more agreeable for speaking of potential bachelors, allowing the mind to be free from the stuffiness that comes from enclosed spaces.
“Every monster worth their salt knows about them. Mrs. Reed, in my understanding, is perfectly within her want of making their acquaintance. The Serif family is held in high esteem!”
“I’m sure it isn’t merely their esteem which has caught her attention. Any man with a fortune such as theirs cannot be freed from her gaze. Though, I suppose, the sentiment must be shared with any available maiden within a square mile.”
Charlotte hums in agreement, plucking some flowers absentmindedly. “You are free to make your own opinions of him at the upcoming ball at the New Home assemblies. With your quick wit, I’m sure they’d be pleased to make your acquaintance, least of all the oldest of the two gentlemen.”
Of the Serif brothers, you had learned there were only two of them, who inherited their fortune at the early passing of their widowed father. The eldest had been but not old enough to join the clergy, truly an unfortunate circumstance. The exact details are a mystery, but what was settled upon through the rumor mill was the eldest, a Mr. Sans Avenir Serif, had taken to learning every possible science and math as was capable after the tragedy. Despite being a scholar, he had found himself steadily rising in his social circle, then growing well above it in his business dealings. With a newly found fortune, it was common knowledge that he wasn’t afraid to show off his superiority to his company. Very little was stated on his countenance, apart from being fiercely loyal to those intimate with him, but cold and unforgiving to those not. His intelligence was well sought after, making him quite a desirable man to have in one’s corner, particularly from how difficult it was to get into said corners.
The younger of the two, Papyrus was his name you believe, was quite the opposite from the accounts of his brother. Not only in his stature, and still intelligent in his own right, but much more of what one would think as the perfect type of gentleman. Charismatic and agreeable, quite popular with any he met in passing; the accounts of him were exceedingly positive in nature. However, due to the nature of his charisma, he was often away on business, meeting and making connections in the bigger cities. He didn’t seem to stick to one place for too long, flitting around without truly settling; an unfortunate circumstance due to the high level of interest show by the community of his person.
It truly seemed like a miracle in the two of them moving there, as was the general agreed upon feelings of the neighborhood.
You scoff, fixing a loose button on your blouse. “Just because a man is a scholar doesn’t mean his attention can be grabbed by simple wordplay, Lottie. If such were the case, he would already be well engaged with a woman much more agreeable than I.”
“Must you be so harsh on yourself? You must know that you are quite an accomplished woman.”
“You are too kind, my friend. But I remain firm in my belief that only the deepest of loves shall induce me. But with our social standing, such a man could not be sensible, and you know that I could never love a man out of his wits.”
“Sensibilities mean very little when the man is of large consequence, my dear friend. As a general rule, a woman should leave the man in no doubt of her heart. She needs to show more affection, not less, if she is to secure him.”
“Secure him?” You ask with a laugh, lifting a brow.
“Why yes!” Charlotte appears perplexed at your humor, stopping in her steps to turn towards you fully.
You must share the same perplexed look, furrowing your brows as you pause to meet her. “Before she is certain of her own regard for him or sure of his character?”
“But of course! Happiness in a marriage is entirely a matter of happenstance, you know. There will always be vexation and grief. It is better to know in advance as little as possible the defects in your marriage partner. Is it not?” The last line comes out with a bit of a laugh, the poker face falling quickly from her.
Sharing in her good humors, you must shake your head at your friend’s thought. “You know it is not sound, you would never act like that yourself!”
“Well, it seems that you will not. So, we must hope that the purposed gentleman will!”
“I’d hate to think that you are suggesting I thrust myself upon one of the poor, unsuspecting Serif brothers at the assembly rooms?”
Her blue fur puffs in a way that is reminiscent of a startled cat, the monster equivalent of a flush you have come to learn over many years of being in acquaintance. “Heavens no! You know that is not what was meant! However, if one of them does show interest in you, how could you refuse such an honor?” Her tone is full of mirth, delighting in the back and forth.
You think for the moment, gathering your thoughts before sharing them with your company. “A marriage, where either partner cannot love nor respect the other. . .that cannot be agreeable, to either party!”
“But beggars, you know, cannot be choosers.” she says with a sigh.
“And so it is as such. Perhaps it would do me better to take care in falling in love with a man of good fortune!” Jesting, you look over the trees, with their leaves full of autumnal colors.
A comfortable silence fills the space betwixt the two of you, paired only by slight rustlings of the vegetation; a distant call of a waterfowl echoing through the treetops. Before long, you are pulled out of your silent reflection as Charlotte takes your hands into her paws, tenderly thumbing over your gloved fingers before meeting your eyes.
“Promise me that you will attend, yes? It will do my nerves good to know you will be there.” Her tone holds a nervousness that would otherwise go unnoticed if not for the subtle shake in her paws. But you take mercy on your friend and answer with a smile.
“But of course, Lottie! It will do me much joy to have good company. Who else shall I share my thoughts with while out in society?”
And with that it was settled, the two of you continuing the rest of your walk in pleasant conversation, arm-in-arm. It was routine, in a way, to avoid the ramblings of your parents to delight in one another’s company. Talking with Charlotte truly was a well needed break from the typical gossip-like nature of conversation within both of your households; such topics can become quite grating upon oneself. Another reason the two of you had become quite close friends from childhood, and continue onward, is despite your differences it was grounding to have perspective from similar circumstances. It was like having an older sister, which was why you had chosen her to confide in more often than not.
⊱ • ──── ❈ ──── • ⊰
Much to the surprise of all those inhabiting Woodhurst Cottage, only three days had passed before the younger of the Serif brothers returned Mr. Reed’s visit. He was alone in this endeavor, no sight of the supposed older brother to be found, and sat about fifteen minutes with him in his library. Mr. Papyrus had entertained the idea of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard much; but was only permitted to see the father. Despite such circumstances, the ladies were somewhat fortunate enough to have the advantage of ascertaining from the upper windows of the cottage, that his stature was in fact quite impressive, he did in fact wear a brown coat paired nicely with a red scarf and rode a black and white speckled horse.
Not one to be satisfied with a single visitation, a dinner invitation was soon dispatched; already was your mother planning the courses with her housekeeping when an answer arrived and put a stop to it all. Mr. Papyrus Serif was to be obliged in town the following night, and consequently his brother as well, making it impossible to accept the honor of their invitation. Disconcerted, your mother couldn’t fathom such need to be in town after so shortly arriving in the neighborhood and feared there was much more truth to the rumors of the youngest Serif flying about from place to place. You had tried to quiet her fears a little by surmising his going to town being to pick up the rest of his party for the ball upcoming. This, however, seemed to serve the opposite effect; your mother grieving over the supposed number of ladies from your last speaking with the Clovers.
Her fears were not to be quelled until the party had entered the assembly rooms at New Home, it consisted of four all together; Mr. Papyrus Serif, two ladies, and another young man who seemed to be the other Serif brother.
True to prior rumors, Mr. Papyrus was good looking and very gentlemanlike, with easy unaffected manners and pleasant countenance. The ladies who accompanied him were fine woman, the first of which being the same height, if not taller than the gentleman in attendance. With dark blue skin, fiery red hair, and other attributes more commonly found with fish than folk, she painted an intimidating image; what, with her large prominent teeth and captivating yellow eye. Her partner, a lizard monster a head shorter than yourself, did not share the same boisterous and outspoken personality as her partner; but rather was quite reserved, but otherwise a pleasant individual, albeit a bit shy in her demeanor. It was the other Serif brother who drew the attention of the room by his fine attire, handsome features, and the report in circulation within the five minutes of his arrival of his having the rights to Snowdin Park, not his younger brother, entailing the estate to himself.
The gentleman in attendance agreed him to be a fine figure of a man, and the ladies declared him being much more handsome than his brother Mr. Papyrus and was continued to be looked upon with admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave away an air of disgust. Turning the tide of his popularity, Mr. Serif was discovered to be of a proud nature, to be above his present company, particularly those of a non-monster variety, and not all of his current estate could then save him from having the most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and was concluded to be unworthy when compared to his brother.
Mr. Papyrus soon made it his mission to become acquainted with all in the room, starting with the principal cast; he was a lively fellow, unreserved as he danced nearly every dance, was angry that the ball has closed so early, and then gave talk of giving one himself at Snowdin. Such promise had otherwise solidified the general thoughts and perception of the gentleman, leading to many a lady wishing to dance with him and the gentleman wanting to converse with a man of such good breeding.
You had been obliged, by scarcity of gentlemen, to take up residence at the side of the room for three dances, joined by your younger sister. From there you were able to observe the crowd, taking a moment to catch your breath and drink from the selection at one of the smaller refreshment tables.
Sophie had taken to following you around, Bonbon and Flopsy had unfortunately been caught with colds the night before the ball, much to Mrs. Clover’s and her dismay, leaving her without a safe foundation of connections to lean on. It was not as if Sophie was completely inept at socializing, but she did hold a shy disposition among strangers, particularly in such a large room. With the absence of her closest partners, you were left the last willing participate to act as her companion. You were unbothered by her need of comfort, being six years her senior and accustomed to her habits, and at times were delighted to have a speaking partner when Charlotte herself was otherwise preoccupied.
Perhaps it was your otherwise calm demeanor in comparison to those in attendance, unbothered by the awkwardness of your sister, that drew the attention of a Mrs. Alphys, who shortly introduced herself after grabbing some sandwiches from the refreshment display. She was a stout woman, with a slight lisp to her words, but held an intelligence to her once she was able to overcome her stuttering. The two of you shared in pleasantries, asking how she found the party to be.
“It is a lovely a-assembly you have. My wife seems to think so at least.” Her voice has a slight lisp to her tone, high in tone but not too much to be grating.
You follow her gaze to spot the other lady from her party, deep in conversation with the principal people across from where you stand. Mrs. Undyne Inmortui, who was otherwise engaged in conversing with the principal people in the room alongside Mr. Papyrus, seemed to notice the three of you speaking of her. In a single motion, her face brightened considerably before winking with her good eye towards her spouse; to which an immediate red flush overtook her so abruptly you and Sophie had to catch her from an almost fainting spell.
Using her fan to help cool down Mrs. Alphys, Sophie helps her into an open seat. “Are you alright, ma’am?”
“Q-quite, quite. I must admit I am embarrassed h-how easily my spouse f-flusters me.” She gladly takes the drink from your hand and sips the sparkling juice sparingly.
“Nothing to be ashamed of, you’re spouse seems plenty taken with you, Mrs. Alphys! You are quite a lucky woman.” You note with a lighthearted tone, cleverly using your own fan to help mask her blush from the rest of the room. From your point in the room, those in attendance are much too focused on the dance to make note of the small scene happening in the corner; aside from Mrs. Undyne, whose wide smile seems to have lengthened from the reaction, satisfied and smug, as she returns to her own conversation at the other end of the room. As soon as Mrs. Alphys’ blush has faded from the intense crimson, leaving her previously yellowed skin a more sunset orange hue, she hands Sophie back her fan and adjusts herself to be more suitable.
You find her to be a fast acquaintance, offering to take her to town if she so wished in the weeks she would be staying at Snowdin Park. Sophie had just begun explaining her favorite hat shop to visit, the one ran by a white dog monster by the names of Mr. Talbot, when your trio was descended upon. Mrs. Undyne had taken to scooping her wife from her chair and led her enthusiastically to the dance floor, after giving you an affirming nod of sorts. Though not as boisterous in his demands, Mr. Papyrus had made the effort to ask none other than your Sophie to dance with him. Shocked from the singling out, she looked up at you with an air of hesitance; but through gentle persuasion and a reassuring smile she soon took the hand of the gentleman and left you by yourself at the wall. Observing the two, despite the height difference, Mr. Papyrus kept his elegant demeanor while moving between the other couples. Despite her initial hesitance, it seemed that he held no malice for her; rather made an effort to engage in conversation. You did not have to hear the conversation to know that Sophie was delighted, seeing her face blossom into a genuine smile as she actively participating in the exchange brought a warmth to your chest.
A warmth of which was no sooner gone from you at the unexpected approach of Mr. Sans Serif, who made the effort to stand close enough to your person to be in earshot but far away to make the point of avoidant interaction. You had taken notice of him during your conversation with Mrs. Alphys, sporting a striking blue coat, golden buttons matching his trousers to sport a well put together outfit. It was obvious now that the tells of him acting above his standing must have come from some sort of truth, for his fashion sense truly gave that impression. But, despite the otherwise jovial nature of his party, with all their quirks, he had made little effort to engage with you until the others had left. A part of you wonders for such a move, why do it now when you are not otherwise engaged?
Glancing at him from the side of your eye, you could see how the lines of his skull and almost pearlescent shine to his bones from the dancing candlelight would make him an attractive thing; however the air of coldness and disdain in his tone did little to warrant your affection in any positive way.
“so kind of the host, to allow attending families of such. . .interesting standing.” Mr. Serif makes no attempt to meet your glance, eye lights focused towards the dance, more specifically following the trail of his brother. The slightest of grimaces passes his features when Sophie clasps hands with Mr. Papyrus, nearing the end of the song.
He had just as much smacked you in the hall, from the red, hot pang of anger at the underlying insult striking your heart, but you manage to hold your tongue from blabbing something unbecoming in a public space. What a contrast between him and his brother! It had been not a full minute before Mr. Serif had made a point to insinuate the wrongness of your species. This is not the first time you or those of your family had been alluded to being less merely for the matter of you being humans in a prominently monster world; but to get such a response from a man whose party had been so agreeable!
You would not allow a slight against your family, no matter how underlying it may be. It takes not but a moment to think of a reply.
“I also find that, sir, they allow attendees with equally interesting manners.” It takes great strength on your part to prevent the line from coming out venomous, though the dry and short delivery leaves very little else to be speculated on.
The space betwixt you feels charged, though how so it is hard to say. A sort of anticipation, mixed with an air of expectancy to retort in some form, but how can you with such a reply? You chose to copy his mannerism, in keeping your eyes turned forwards and a neutral poker face set on your features.
“Do you enjoy dancing, Mr. Serif?” At last you break the silence, just as the musicians ended their song with a final crescendo, the crowd applauds the performance, both of the dancers and musicians alike.
Mr. Serif scoffs under his breath. “no, i most certainly do not, unless i am particularly acquainted with my partner, i take very little pleasure in manners such as these.”
“And no one can be introduced at a ball?” You say with a bit of sarcasm, drinking from your cup to hide the grimace now forming on your lips.
“i am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.” He says so matter-of-factually, you would have spat out your drink had you not already swallowed.
“Nor I to give consequence to those who lack the inclination at acquaintanceship.” You say with finality.
At that, you gave a small curtsy to the man before walking off, no very cordial feelings towards Mr. Serif festered in your heart as you do. The sensation of eyes boring into your back was easily dismissed as you made your way to the edge of the crowd, congratulating your sister and Mr. Papyrus’ performance with great mirth, soon finding yourself in the rows of dance with the gentleman in question.