Invitation

"It's a pity your brother couldn't join us." The knife scraped against the porcelain plate. It'd been a long time since Anita was able to eat at the dinner table with father. The only thing ruining the mood was the absence of her older brother, who was supposed to be there but wasn't.

"Why couldn't he just stay an extra day? He knew that this today's my day off!" She huffed in annoyance before stuffing her face with a fat chunk of steak.

"You look ridiculous." Her younger sister Luelle chided, "Can't you eat like a proper lady for once?"

"It's fine! There's no one for me to impress at this table anyways." She knew she was being indignant but it didn't matter. The family dining hall was honestly too wide for just the three of them, but their mother was away and that idiot brother of hers ran off before they could even sit down and talk. He'd been her favorite sibling when they were younger but now, she rarely even saw him.

"Anita. Luelle." Their father warned, his narrowed eyes instantly incited his two daughters to straighten their backs. "Do not forget, Anita, you are the heir to this Noble House."

Anita sighed, "Yes, father."

For a moment they were quiet, but it didn't take long for Luelle to speak up again, "Oh Anita, how is the Lord High Paladin? I saw him in the papers the other day, mighty handsome he is."

Anita huffed, "He's as grouchy as ever. Though I suppose that means he's well."

"So," Luelle dragged the word at long, wiggling her brows suggestively at Anita.

She huffed again, cheeks coloured with an odd frustration bubbling within. There was a time she wore confidence like a bulletproof coat, and shrugged her own foolishness off with a playful wink. Anita wanted to believe she was still like that.

But the truth was, there was a feeling inside her changing. A slow, crawl of apprehension. "So nothing really, Gab- the High Paladin isn't interested in sad pitiful me. He's got a flock of women after him already. Did you know he and Lady Laurette knew each other from university?"

Luelle gasped, "Lady Laurette is a married woman! Are you stupid, Anita?

Anita held back the urge to stick out her tongue, their father was still watching them after all. "You know what I mean, Lue!"

"Don't be an idiot-"

"Anita." Lord Theoran's booming voice cut between them, ending their pointless squabble from deteriorating any farther before he turned his attention to the older daughter, "Why don't you invite the Lord High Paladin for dinner?"

Anita nearly dropped her fork, "Oh that sounds absolutely lovely!" Luelle chirped, clapping and bouncing in her seat, "I have yet to meet our Lord High Paladin."

"Luelle, your lust is rather scary. And you were telling me to lady-like?"

"Oh shut it. If you're not going to snatch up the Lord Gabriel then I will. I've had my eye on him since before his promotion." Anita swore she could see a sliver of drool coming down the corner of her sister's mouth. She was staring at her bit of steak left with an intensity that made Anita uncomfortable.

Ugh, why did her parents have to have had another one after her?

"You two will be on your best behaviors should he come over, do I make myself clear?" Their father set down his utensils and softly patted his thick beard with the handkerchief.

"I can't possibly imagine he'll accept the invitation." Anita was whined, moving the beans around in the sauce before deciding that she was done acting like a child with her food, "He's just a little out of place at family dinners if you know what I mean?"

"Oh please, Anita. Stop pretending like you know him oh, so well. Just try, ok!"

Anita frowned, still apprehensive.

"Your sister is right, you simply ought to extend an invitation. Should he accept or decline, it is entirely up to him." Her mother smiled at her.

If her father was asking it of her, Anita supposed she didn't really have a choice. Though the man had a strict and oppressive demeanor, Lord Theoran was actually a very patient and tolerant man. He allowed his daughters to remain unattached for all these years, even when Anita was the head of the house. "I understand, father." Her shoulders drooped in defeat, wondering how in the world was she supposed to even bring up the topic with Gabriel of all people.

In the belly of downtown Edenea, the Skyfall Hotel was a tall imposing giant, even among the golden structures that dominated Goldhart Road. Frode didn't feel like he belonged even dressed in an expensive suit and done up hair. Still, he could easily ignore the awkwardness he felt at heart to enjoy the soft covers of a five-star hotel bed.

He was about to be lulled to sleep, despite still dressed in a full three-piece when the door clicked open. Still blissed out by the heavenly sheets, Camilla's voice sounded rather distant, "I can't say I feel fully comfortable, staying in a place like this." He could hear her shuffling about the room, placing something on the table before putting her jacket away into the closet.

His voice was muffled by the sheets before Frode couldn't fathom why he needed to move from his comfortable position. "I can't hear you." Camilla said easily to her boss, "You're going to have to get up from there."

A long groan echoed in their spacious room, Frode stretched on the bed as would a cat, "I said, just enjoy the luxuries, would you? It's not like we can't afford it." This was true in part, for the amount of revenue Crimson Crown made more than justified their stay at the Skyfall…that was if they were to keep all that profit for themselves.

"I will say, if this place wasn't known for its discretion, I would have tried to convince you of another joint." Camilla walked to the bar, carefully looking through the selection of alcohol.

Frode hopped off the bed and sauntered over to the counter, eagerly watching Camilla brew some sweet poisonous concoction. "And ruin my fun? Yeah, no way. I ain't going to say no to this fancy-ass place, especially not when it's coming free with the job."

Camilla snickered and rolled her eyes, "That's precisely when you ought to be more careful Frode, a promise too good to be true is going to be too good to be true." After carefully mixing, she poured two glasses and slid one over to Frode, "Speaking of fun, I heard you were out playing the other day in some bar midday."

Frode groaned, dropping his head around his cup and breathed in the sweet scent of poison, "Don't say a word."

"So long as you remained focused, I won't." She hummed, taking a sip of her cup and leaning against one cold marble of the countertop.

"You're basically saying I'm distracted aren't you? When will you stop poking your nose into my private affairs?" He glared at her, with a sneer akin to an angry wolf.

She was not threatened by this display, and only calmly returned a languid smile and changed the topic, "How did the meeting go?"

"What? You worried I went and fucked it up?" He took a swig of his cup, the pungent taste of alcohol burned in his throat. Unpleasant, but just how he liked it.

Camilla said nothing but continued to watch him with dark hollow eyes. Talk about disconcerting.

He groaned and looked aside, slumping in his seat like a defeated child, "It was fine, ok? No big fucking deal. He's a man I could work with, even if he's a bit batshit crazy."

Camilla raised a brow over the ledge of her glass. Frode glared back, silently challenging her to say something. "Hm, that's good then." She left it at that. The two shared a glass together, and then another. Frode, by no means, was a lightweight but he had no hopes in beating Camilla. Eventually, she tucked him into bed and watched him with those vacant eyes.

There was still some time before Frode would wake so she silently slipped out the room, deciding to get some work done while he slept.