Initially he'd come down to the cellar to look through their various rations, wanting to surprise Fitzjames with some delicacy he hasn't had in years, but the dark and the quiet quickly begins to soothe his frayed nerves. He picks up a random tin of pears and sits down on a rickety table, exhaling softly as he runs his thumb along the odd bumps underneath the label.
It's not their fault that he can't even take a joke. And perhaps he does spend a bit too long down in the cellar just catching his breath, because soon he hears Rama calling about overusing firewood or some such nonsense. He sighs quietly and rises, setting the tin back into place and picking up a few jars of pickles and some roots to slip into a pocket before heading up the stairs to join them once more.
The man that emerges from the cellar is very different from the man that went down. There's no smile on his face, but there's mirth in his eyes as he scans the kitchen for evidence of this abuse of his fire.
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Initially he'd come down to the cellar to look through their various rations, wanting to surprise Fitzjames with some delicacy he hasn't had in years, but the dark and the quiet quickly begins to soothe his frayed nerves. He picks up a random tin of pears and sits down on a rickety table, exhaling softly as he runs his thumb along the odd bumps underneath the label.
It's not their fault that he can't even take a joke. And perhaps he does spend a bit too long down in the cellar just catching his breath, because soon he hears Rama calling about overusing firewood or some such nonsense. He sighs quietly and rises, setting the tin back into place and picking up a few jars of pickles and some roots to slip into a pocket before heading up the stairs to join them once more.
The man that emerges from the cellar is very different from the man that went down. There's no smile on his face, but there's mirth in his eyes as he scans the kitchen for evidence of this abuse of his fire.