Gioco d'attesa
It wasn't as if Alec has asked him anything. No explanation, no excuses. None asked, and none given. Ranuccio had turned up one morning at dawn, and the door was open for him. He knew the way to his room. There were clothes laid out for him when he woke up, food for him on the table when he wanted to eat. He wandered down to the imposing library, after that. Early afternoon, Alec would probably be there. Ranuccio wasn't clear with himself what was going to happen if Alec wasn't there.
But there he was. Stretched on his favourite leather sofa, a glass of..brandy? Porto, perhaps, close by. And a book. A nod, and Ran just took his place, his back to the old velevet chair with armrests and feet finely carved, a deck of cards in his hands. If Alec wasn't going to say anything, ask anything, bugger him, Ran could do exactly the same.
But there he was. Stretched on his favourite leather sofa, a glass of..brandy? Porto, perhaps, close by. And a book. A nod, and Ran just took his place, his back to the old velevet chair with armrests and feet finely carved, a deck of cards in his hands. If Alec wasn't going to say anything, ask anything, bugger him, Ran could do exactly the same.