Chapter Text
“Come in, Henry!”
Henry, with his right hand, pushed the door open; he entered the study. Randall’s study. It had been Henry’s once – in fact, quite recently – but that was only when it was he who managed the wealth of the great Monte d’Or. Now that wealth – rightly, Henry thought – belonged to Randall, who was likewise now in control of it.
Tapping a pen against his chin, Randall sat “working” at the desk Henry once made use of: he was quite ill-equipped to make any real financial decisions without Henry’s help, and so he welcomed his ex-servant’s entrance with a smile. Though, interestingly, that smile did not quite reach his eyes.
Randall looked quite as he did when he was younger: short, messy hair and thick-rimmed glasses.
“Care for some tea, Master Randall?” Henry asked; his left hand was propping up a tray which carried a teapot and twin teacups. He approached carefully, not wishing to drop or spill his precious cargo.
“Made fresh from that… ‘Happy Ending’ clover, yes?” Henry nodded. “Then sure thing, as long as you’re also having some!”
“If you insist, Master Randall.” Henry did not need convincing, though. He was quite fond of clover tea. He and Randall had already had their fill of tea that morning; Henry had had another cup or two since then.
Henry poured tea for Randall first, then for himself, delicately placing each teacup and its respective saucer down on the desk. Randall took a quick sip of the clover tea and his muscles eased up; he relaxed into his chair and beckoned towards Henry, who had already finished his drink mere moments prior. Henry’s face had lost all its tension, the slight furrow in his brow unravelling.
“Come, Henry,” Randall said, beckoning him towards the sheaf of papers before him. “I would appreciate your help with this. You know I’m no good with fine print.” His voice was light and good-humored, not a hint of a demand in his words. That, along with the tea, relieved Henry of any worry left in him.
Henry stepped around to Randall’s side of the desk and peered down at the topmost sheet. His eyes darted across and down the page, efficiently and effectively scouring the paragraphs for key words and important phrases. After a minute, he raised his head and turned towards Randall.
“I would strongly advise against signing, Master Randall.”
Randall blinked inquisitively and picked up the document. “It looked good to me.”
Henry paused. “If you would like to go through with the deal, Master Randall…”
“Ha!” Randall laughed. “You know you have a better knack for this than I do. Remind me why I’m the one in charge of half of Monte d’Or again?”
Henry gingerly slipped the paper out of Randall’s hands and put it aside. “Most of Monte d’Or. It is because the city is yours, Master Randall. It is not mine to control.”
“You did a pretty good job of controlling it, though.”
“It was only my job because you were not there to perform it, Master Randall. Your decisions should be at the heart of the city, not mine.” Henry read through the next of the papers, and then the next, and then the next. “I would strongly suggest you sign this one,” motioning to the first, “but to leave the other two. They would not be wise contracts to agree to.”
Randall’s face was decorated with a smile. It did not reach his eyes. “Whatever you say, Henry!” He took a sip of his tea. “Whatever you say.”
“Only as you wish, Master Randall,” Henry said placidly, pouring himself another cup.