It’s not much, perhaps only by two minutes according to the antique grandfather clock back in the parlor, but the dread and anticipation in Erik’s gut twinges and roils all the same.
He knows he shouldn’t be late; knows how displeased Sebastian will be,
and finds it difficult not to sprint down the last remaining hallways to the bathroom at the east corner of the Xavier manor, furthest from the ballroom and unused by tonight’s guests.
He stops at the door to take a deep breath, straightening his tie and running a quick hand through his hair.
If there’s anything that displeases Sebastian more than being late is Erik being even the slightest bit disheveled or unkempt – unless Seb is the one messing up his always immaculate appearance.
Erik knocks, and sure enough, Sebastian is already waiting, voice tinged with impatience. “Come in.”
They’ve selected this place to meet at Emma’s suggestion, familiar as she is with the layout of the manor,
both from her long association with the Xavier family and what she has gleaned from the servants’ instructions for the evening.
All are focused on the party in the west wing thrown by their Master, leaving the east wing empty of both staff and guests.
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