“I'll just be a moment dears,” Ellenora said in the same breathy tone she had been speaking in non stop since she had arrived, waving a placating hand as she vacated her seat, “I simply must make sure the servants are tending to the tea properly. You know now delicate the leaves can be- I will not be but a moment.”

With a rustle of skirts the stately woman graceful made her quick exit in a bustle of her usual, never ending vigor, leaving the men behind in the sitting room to converse with each other.

Or not. With loud articulation, the simple clock on the far wall kept careful record as the oppressive silence waxed ever thick between the two gentlemen as dust never did in the over clean room.

With a stifled sigh, Bain glanced over at the overbearing man sitting across from him in the paisley loveseat, the man's stark green uniform clashing terribly with the softer colors that decorated the room. It was starched and pressed to a sharp crease, the only thing stiffer being the man himself.

Set in the stonework of an eternal frown, Gulliver's pale gold eyes surveyed the limited ornamentation of the sitting room with marked apathy from their frame of gray splashed rustic coils. Square and imposing, the man looked as stoic as ever he had been, the traces of age upon his features merely adding to the ponderous immobility.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, it was with great difficulty that the younger man unstuck his tongue to break the stifling silence.

“You're … looking well?” Bain began hesitantly, clearing his throat as ventured to force his voice into the void.

“I am.” The voice was deep, the eyes still flint, the conversation ended.

Was it possible that clock had always been this loud?

Suppressing another sigh, Bain ran a gloved hand through his already mussed hair before returning it to its place upon the armrest of his seat. The days of which he and his father had enjoyed ease and pleasant conversation seemed long in the past at this moment... It was nice that his father could tolerate being in the same room alone with him again, but true speech had yet to be recovered from the gaping rift that had appeared between them.

This rift, however, upset Mother greatly. She often spoke of how such division between her loved ones pained her so... and she would not suffer animosity in her presence. In her presence they were cordial... but silence would never have lingered this long with her there.

Trying again Bain spoke, “And, ah, … how are the troops progressing?”

At the cold flash over gold eyes, Bain winced at his choice of words. He had chosen the wrong subject to speak on. Never mind the many years of study and personal training he had received from this very man before him. He was not a Seventen. He no longer had the right to speak on them.

Giving up, Bain deflated as he slouched in his seat, “How is Kendrick, Father?”

“Ah, yes. Kendrick has progressed splendidly,” Gulliver finally spoke, the deep bass voice flushed with pride and tinged with underlying bitterness, “I have been most pleasantly surprised with his dedication. He is an Ensign now, as you know.”

And as I am not, Bain acknowledged the unspoken scorn with a loose nod of his head. Never again would he be on the receiving end of that unconditional pride, Kendrick had won that honor at last.

Reluctantly the silence slowly began easing its way back into the room, when the sound of clinking silver dishware and tittering laugh sounded Ellenora's return with the tea.

“Here we are, Yes yes, place the tea there girl, just like that. You may go now, child. Gulliver have some tea dearest. You as well Oliver, do you take sugar? No, no I remember. Now the invitation I received is for the twentieth, that is one week from now so you have plenty of time to be ready...”

As his mother's easy chatter filled the empty room, Bain tried to relax into his simple chair, sipping his strong tea. Carefully, so as not to burn himself... the weight of cold gold eyes felt, but left unseen.