She seemed, if not unaware of the commotion, then expertly serene about it – content to keep her head down and carry on, without letting it bother her. Aubrey had been managing to do that just about, before, but while the maid was actively trying to clean the floors, it made their stupid little game all the more obnoxious.
Aubrey nodded at her, quirking a corner of his mouth back at her acknowledgement that it was not unusual, and that she knew he was not to blame. (He had learned how to handle a knife and fork again, a soup spoon, all that, thank you; he could eat as well as the next civilised person. This was – important to him.)
And he hadn’t been going to say anything else about it, just shifting his chair sideways so that she could work around him without his feet in the way, when one of the youth sent a substantial ball of mashed potato flying towards him, perhaps with the force and the help of a banishing charm. Aubrey dodged it, or it missed him – either way, it hit her squarely. His face fell: he would have warned her, but she was... likely to have felt that hit.
“Entitled brats,” he muttered between them, managing a glare over his shoulder at the group but feeling like he should probably do something more to stop them but helpless as to what. (What he wouldn’t give to be able to shit in their shoes, like the old days.) “Are y’alright?”
Aubrey nodded at her, quirking a corner of his mouth back at her acknowledgement that it was not unusual, and that she knew he was not to blame. (He had learned how to handle a knife and fork again, a soup spoon, all that, thank you; he could eat as well as the next civilised person. This was – important to him.)
And he hadn’t been going to say anything else about it, just shifting his chair sideways so that she could work around him without his feet in the way, when one of the youth sent a substantial ball of mashed potato flying towards him, perhaps with the force and the help of a banishing charm. Aubrey dodged it, or it missed him – either way, it hit her squarely. His face fell: he would have warned her, but she was... likely to have felt that hit.
“Entitled brats,” he muttered between them, managing a glare over his shoulder at the group but feeling like he should probably do something more to stop them but helpless as to what. (What he wouldn’t give to be able to shit in their shoes, like the old days.) “Are y’alright?”
Formerly known as Davis, Elijah Urquart's pet hedgehog.