Fashionably Late

Atreus kept his jaw locked as Cyrille made questionable outfit choices, laying out every wrong thing he had done while practically strangling him in copper buttons. He cared so little about every accusation- the bottle, he could argue, had been earned. The vase, well, Cyrille should know better than to leave anything fragile in a common hallway where drunk people might be. And the soiree… ah, well, he would never admit it, but he had forgotten about that one…

“Oh, please,” Atreus finally huffed, breaking out of his frozen state to march across the room, snatching the jewelry from Cyrille’s grasp. “Do you really think I’m the only one who does even half of what you claim? Do you really think people care? I can assure you, there are far worse out there than me.” He avoided eye contact as he leaned into the mirror, brushing his hair from his ear. “Everyone is sleeping with everyone, and a stolen bottle of wine and a missed party when there are corrupted mages tearing up the streets around every corner are hardly anyone’s first concerns! Really, don't be ridiculous.”

He paused in his fussing with the earring and glanced up to lock eyes with Cyrille in the mirror, a devilish smirk on his lips. "And say what you will about Divos, but what he lacks in personality and appearance, he makes up for in… skill," He practically sighed the last word, giving Cyrille a wink before he turned his attention back to, well, himself. He then twirled to lean against the jewelry desk and cross his feet in front of him, fingers still aimlessly toying with the clasp on one of the bracelets.

"Cyrille, if you believed for a single moment that this relationship would be, could be… more than a mess… then you are more of a fool than I took you for," He hummed, a casual, light smile on his lips. But his eyes were dark, shadowed by a furrowed brow and curls that had yet to be tamed. “But, not every mess needs to be cleaned up, my dear, sometimes messes are the one saving grace we truly have.”

Atreus pressed his palms into the desk and pushed himself into an amble around the room. “Let me ask you a question; why do you think the public was so quick to pounce on your darling cousin and her dashing groom the moment they misstepped?” Atreus stopped before Cyrille, hands clasped behind his back with the most perfect posture and smug little grin. “It's because your family was so… perfect. Not a mark on your record, not a missed dinner, not even a sneeze at the theater. And the peanut gallery loves it when perfection steps in shit.” He giggled softly, leaning forward ever so slightly, “Why do you think it was Lasair who got the heat in their engagement, hmm? It’s because they expected it from Basileios- he, too, was a mess. That wasn’t news. Your cousin going off the handle, though, that was news,” He paused then, humming softly as he gave Cyrille’s cheek a gentle pat. "It is your reaction that they will judge more than what I do. Abandoning me and stripping me bare at such a trying, heartbreaking time in my life? When what I need most is support from my new loving husband? They'll eat you alive while I gather more sympathy...”

Atreus breathed, then, stepping away with a little flutter of his fingers as he meandered towards the bedroom door. His hand rested on the handle, well-manicured nails tapping on the silver. “I will clear things with Lady Duvet, for I have her and her little gaggle of ladies wrapped around my finger, such sweethearts they are...” He was ready to fling open the door and storm out, but he found himself waiting, hand turned on the handle, but gaze moving to glance over his shoulder. “Your family's record has been marked now, Cyrille, and it is up to you to decide what to do with it," he said, this time a little more softly. A little more somber. "My advice? Embrace it. Use it to your advantage. You will find that life becomes... easier, once you learn how to properly."

He turned away and pushed the door open, stepping through as the rare gentleness melted away. "Do with that information as you will. Do not threaten me again. I am far more destructive when I'm upset, and the thread I am hanging from is very... thin..." And with that, not missing a beat as he left the door wide open,

"Welcome to the real world, darling."