(A late) Anti-OTP: Tom/Paul

[notallworthy]

Tom is trying to learn how to juggle. Unfortunately, no one ever told him how to juggle so he's making it up as he goes. At the moment he's focusing on trying to keep the oranges from all falling at once. It's harder than he thought it would be but he has a large smile on his face and he looks a little rumpled from running about and chasing

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[oilwithvinegar]

Paul wanders through with a glass of brandy, swirling it slowly as he walks, occasionally savoring a sip. He stops and watches the attempt at juggling, laughing loudly as the oranges fall, one of them rolling to a stop at his feet.

[notallworthy]

Tom looks up at him, rubbing his head where one of the oranges hit. "I guess I need more practice." He smiles a little sheepishly.

[oilwithvinegar]

"Perhaps a different profession." He smirks, picking the orange up and setting aside his brandy in favor of peeling it.

[notallworthy]

Tom shrugs, he still vaguely remembers Paul as 'that guy who thought I was a servant' so forgive him for being a bit on edge. "I'm no worse at it than at any other one I've tried."

[oilwithvinegar]

"Oh? What others have you tried?"

[notallworthy]

Tom thinks. "None. I never needed one."

[oilwithvinegar]

"No? Hm. I approve. I despise those who must work for their living."

[notallworthy]

"Well, no one needs to do that here," he felt like pointing out. "And some of the people can be quite nice." He also remembers that this is the man who put a bullet in Miss Sabouroff.

[oilwithvinegar]

"I hope you're not counting me among them."

[notallworthy]

"Among who?"

[oilwithvinegar]

"The nice ones."

[notallworthy]

"Not judging from what I've seen and heard." He's definitely on edge now.

[oilwithvinegar]

"Oh?" Paul smirked. "Scared, pet?"

[notallworthy]

"No," he snapped a little too quickly.

[oilwithvinegar]

"You sound scared to me."

[notallworthy]

"I'm not."