Drinking on a Monday

Atreus was no less than delighted by the silence that followed the little guessing game, and a soft lyrical giggle left his lips as Aleister complimented him further. He could have been lying, Atreus would never know, but he was in a good mood and it was a simple night. He would happily accept whatever was told to him if it meant he wasn’t being bored to tears by awful nobles with splintery sticks shoved up their asses.

Was he ever wrong- he scoffed a playful little chuckle, knowing the question didn’t need an answer. No, he had never found himself wrong, and if he had, well… no one would dare admit it. He was ruthless with his confidence, and it showed clearly with his actions. Anyone who crossed him, well… they were not friends, to put it lightly.

His eyes sparkled at the mention of the masks, his hands clasping together before him in delight. “That is an invitation I would happily accept, darling, so I shall try to be on my best behavior.” He replied, his tone chipper as he rocked on his toes. Though, he would be the first to admit that the masks were hardly his point of interest. He still wanted to know what was beneath the one donned on the man’s head…

But his attention quickly shifted to the napkin that Aleister plucked from a nearby table, his brow arching in curiosity as a symbol appeared in the fabric. So the tall man was a mage, not that such information was too surprising to him… but it did make him glance up at him with something akin to twisted excitement. Mages were so… terrifying yet beautiful at the same time.

His hand shook ever so slightly as he took the napkin.

His gaze turned to the conversation that Aleister pointed him at; a small group of men and women who spoke in hushed tones. He recognized every one of them, but there was a certain one that had Atreus giggling again. Oh, Lord Baylen. Atreus still hadn’t given him his painting back.

Their voices were loud and clear, though, as if they were standing right next to him. A strange tingling sensation itched through his ears as he listened, and his gaze snapped to Aleister with his tooth worrying his lip in a silly smirk.

“They’re talking about me,” He said, leaning closer to the tall mage as if he was sharing a secret. It was no secret what he had done now, and Baylen’s gaze had even sought him out across the room. Atreus wiggled his fingers at him, feigning ignorance to their conversation. The other man only scowled.

“Oh, a few weeks ago, that man in the middle there- Lord Baylen- insulted some of my writing so I- ah- borrowed one of his paintings. He still has not apologized, so I have not given it back.” He explained, still listening to the hushed conversation. “He’s telling them all what a terrible little thief I am.” His gaze cut back to Aleister, his slender fingers absently brushing his hair out of his large almond eyes.

“I don’t think borrowing is stealing, though, don’t you think? He can have it back once he swallows his pride and gives me that apology.” He held the napkin by the tip, fluttering it as he spoke. “I’m not sure which I’m more impressed with: your handiwork or your magic. How useful it must be to be able to drop in on other conversations with nothing more than a napkin. I have to hire people to do that for me.” He chuckled lightly, turning his gaze back to watch the conversation, but he’d heard all he needed now. Aleister was certainly one he wouldn’t mind keeping around a little while longer.