Will headed down the hallway, turning in to the kitchen. He watched the chefs and cooks hurrying around to get the food prepared for the party. As he walked over to talk to one of the cooks, covered in powder and sauces, that cook smiled at him.
“Hey, you sure decided to sleep in late. It's already almost one,” the cook smiled. “You must've been pretty tired.”
Seeing this as an opportunity to find out just how long he had been out last night, Will asked, “When'd I get in?”
“Around three, I think?” he answered. The cook pulled off his cap, ruffling his hair a bit with his hand, and the put it back on. “Those pastries you bought for the Master are over there on the counter. They smell really good.”
Will nodded a bit, looking around, stepping out of people's way. Four years of being the kitchen-boy and he'd grown accustomed to the flow of busy and slow days. On a busy day, you are on your toes moving around so much it's like you were a ballerina. And on the slow days, you're moving so slow, you might as well challenge that turtle to a 'who can get there last?' contest.
“Were they expensive?” the cook asked, as he started to dice some cucumber up. Will looked back to him, shaking his head. “You do know that at ten dollar a pop for four pastries, that's expensive, right?”
Will blinked, surprised a bit, but nodded. The cook waved his arm, smiling. “What do you need me to do?” Will asked.
The cook nodded, pointing toward a box. “Take the compost out and then see if they need your help decorating the ballrooms and stuff.”
Will nodded. After he took out the compost to the backyard, he came back in and washed his hands. After drying them, he headed into the ballroom. He spent the rest of the afternoon going around getting the flowers in their vases with water, setting the tables, and cleaning the dance floor.
A young man with dark navy steel hair and orange eyes stood adjusting his dark red jacket at the collar and the cuffs. He turned, looking nervously up at the blond watching him. “I dunno about this. Shouldn't someone else be going?”
“It's really easy,” the blond smiled, glancing over to the young man next to them dressed in all black, with a blank look in his eye and black short hair. “All you have to do is just observe what's going on.”
“So why can't you or Akiio go?”
“Cause we didn't get the job,” the blond laughed, swinging his legs.
The three of them were standing around in a small bunch of trees in a non-busy part of the city near the Grand Duke's manor. The blond was sitting in a tee and jeans, swinging his legs playfully as he sat on a low branch of one of the trees. The nervous one getting dressed up and adjusting himself, kept looking at the mirror and the pile of products and clothing they brought.
“I dunno,” he said, looking to them. “I feel like a fool! Do people really dress like this when they're rich?”
The blond tilted his head to the side. “What does it matter? It's just clothes.”
“Clothes matter, Isaac!” he shouted. Then he looked to the one in black. “How do I look?” He stretched out his arms, thinking he looked fine.
The one in black turned his red eyes to him, and stared at him for a minute without saying anything. He knelt down, picked up some mousse, squirted a bunch in one hand, and then without warning, shoved his hand into the navy hair and pushed his bangs back with a shove.
“ACK!!!” he yelped, taking a step back from the sudden shove. He forced a smile at him though, “So.... how's it look?”
Again, a long silence followed as he was stared at. It became awkward, as the blond sat there covering his mouth so he wouldn't laugh.
“Better,” he finally said.
The navy haired boy sighed a bit, adjusting one last time before heading down the pathway. “I'll be back soon.”
“Bring me a slice of cake!” the blond shouted after him. Without looking, he just waved, grimacing inward as he felt an odd sudden feeling of stupidness coming over him.