Basil frowned at his brother’s insistence to sit. To be a contrarian, he stayed standing and made no motion to move whatsoever. Instead, the brunette eyed his elder brother as Atticus sighed and seemed to go deep into thought. Something about the action should have softened him. It didn’t. But it should have. Basil didn’t know what kind of story he was in for, but he did trust Atticus to tell him the truth he supposed. The truth about whatever would-be-family he’d dreamed up before! The other started to speak and Basil zero’d in on his story, grey hues leveling the eldest with appraisal. Twenty-two… so Basil would have been seventeen. It explained why he’d perhaps never noticed anyone Atticus may have been courting. They were no longer in school together; Atticus would have been home in Wellingtonshire with their parents and Basil had been finishing his…seventh… year. Blast. That was a rather ugly coincidence. It too explained why he was particularly distracted. Basil felt his cheeks burn and he tried to push Lissington from his thoughts.
So the girl had wanted to meet them. And father had spurned her. (For a moment, Basil wondered what that must have felt like. Was it at all like being second best? Or was it better because she had nothing to prove?) As the tale continued to disownment and choices, Basil finally felt something in his countenance stiffen. The idea of being first born, of having the responsibility of it all— Atticus was right. It wasn’t something he’d have wanted. And having an heir? The thought made Basil’s face pale as his stomach turned over in its place.
When Atticus finished his story, the younger brother stood eerily still. He was…unsatisfied, in a way. He felt guilty for even existing, but it wasn’t as if he’d asked Atticus to give her up. And, if Basil was honest, wasn’t it just easier for him to chose his own family over some woman? Instantly the younger felt his own selfishness surprise him, but he stuck to his guns as the thought developed. Atticus may have made a difficult choice, but it was still the easier one. For what is life without one’s family? Without the money their father would have evidently withdrawn? (Perhaps this said something about him… about the reason why he was the way he was, or perhaps not.) Either way, Basil wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to say. Or, maybe he did, he just didn’t want to.
I’m sorry. That was what one was expected to respond when learning their brother gave up a horrible version of their own life for you, right? But in reality, Basil wasn’t sorry. He was glad Atticus had chosen him, had chosen them - Mama and Papa - over her. It’s how things were supposed to be. It’s what he’d done when—
“What was her name?” He finally asked, breaking the silence.
Atticus Foxwood & we've all learned something here about Basil... >>;