A Gentleman? // OxO // Closed

Francis chose not to close the door as he meandered to the free bed. He took a seat, hands planted in his lap. After a moment of stillness he rhythmically tapped his fingers on his knee. “So…” he began, ultimately trailing off. He searched through his mind for an end to the sentence, something to say to break the awkward silence, but before he could he was interrupted by the sandy-haired footman.

“Is there anything I can get for you two sirs?” He asked through his heavy accent, as if he hadn’t heard Keene’s offer just a minute ago. In all fairness, he probably hadn’t heard.

The footman nodded, seeming to take no notice of Jack’s trailing gaze. He turned his head to Francis, then, who also denied the request. “Alright. Do let me know if there’s anything I can do for either of you to make your stay more comfortable.” He dipped his chin once more, and then disappeared into the hallway.

Francis looked over at Jack’s snicker, narrowing his gaze with confusion. No, suspicion, having known Jack’s reputation. “What do you think of him?” Francis finally said. He leaned forward to pull his shoes off and set them on the floor neatly, then shuffled back. Sitting more comfortably on the bed, legs crossed, propped up by his arm on the mattress.

“Both.” Francis shrugged. He’d meant the footman at first, but now he was curious to know what Jack thought of Keene too. Before he hadn’t seemed that impressed.
It felt strange, of course, sharing a room with Jack. But not only for the obvious now, after spending several days together already it felt more normal—in some strange way—to talk with him. If for nothing else at least to reach a polite acquaintanceship.

“Alright, alright,” Francis conceded. “That’s fair enough.” He figured Jack’s reply was an answer to his question, one that the senior Montague would most likely not approve of, but he pushed the thought to the side. At least he wouldn’t have to witness anything, and he could claim complete ignorance.

Francis frowned, a barely visible flush rising over his expression. Jack had a point. “That’s not the same,” he muttered. Though the turn on the question had gotten under his skin enough for him to go quiet. He shifted back across the bed, leaning against the headboard and pulling out his notebook. Better to distract himself than dwell on the embarrassment.

Francis tossed a side-eyed glance over to Jack. “That’s not…that’s not what I meant,” he attempted. “I’m not insinuating anything except that my opinion of your sister isn’t relevant.” He pursed his lips together, purposely gluing his gaze back to the notebook pages. His face reddened a bit more.

(Real quick, was that the first time Jack called him Francis and not Olivier? 👀 Or am I just forgetting another time before? If it is the first time Francis is going to totally overthink it lmao)

(Alrighty!)

Francis resisted the urge to roll his eyes, visibly shuddering instead. He wanted the conversation to be over. To forget about being pinned into a corner, metaphorically speaking, when what he said to initiate the interaction now sounded less than polite. And he was used to being considered polite by everyone. Then Jack said his name, and all previous thoughts left him. “What did you just call me?”

“No, no, it’s not a problem.” Francis blinked away his expression and sent his gaze to the other side of the room. Suddenly self conscious about his stunned reaction. “It’s just we’ve always used our last names. I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Heyo, I’ve been feeling pretty under the weather lately, and while I’ve been trying to get responses up I haven’t really been able to keep up as much as I’d like to. I wanted to let you know that a reply is coming soon, it just might take another few days or so :) thanks so much for your patience!

(thanks so much!!)

“No. It’s alright. I don’t mind,” Francis answered quickly. He truly didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything it was just a reminder that they were no longer strangers to each other. Still dancing around each other awkwardly, maybe, but familiar enough with each other to use first names. It felt odd, and that was the extent of his discomfort—which felt just as off. “I don’t mind at all…Jack.”

Francis sent lucrative glances over to Jack once every few minutes, between mindlessly flipping through pages of his notebook. Jack was an…interesting man to say the least. While he found the man no less than unsettling, there was something about him that kept drawing Francis’ attention. Morbid curiosity, most likely. “It’s a beautiful place here,” he said finally.

“Mhm…they are.” Their conversation was dry, as always. If they were to be forced to stay in each other’s company, at the least he could find some subject with the faintest amount of interest to talk about. Alas, Francis fell back into silence and turned his attention to the notebook. He doubted Jack would like to listen to him talk about the weather. Still, a slight part of him wanted the other man to be interested, like Elizabeth had been, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what the difference was.

(Skip?)