[log] 4 + (4*6) + (4*3)

[piquedbutler]

Ah, April 16 in 2012. What a day to turn 24.

Chives didn't actually go to bed. He spent his Hour scribbling in his notes in anticipation. It's made sense of his paranoia, fixed him out of his funk and into a Proper State for celebrating his birthday. Because he's meant to be Happy today. The Numbers tell him so

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[quicktocut]

She waits for him to come to her, knowing that it's as inevitable as Death itself. When he does, steaming cup of tea set beside her, she reaches down beside her seat, sliding a box over to him. "It's from India. I figured you might like an assortment. There's loose leaf and blooming teas. Happy birthday, Declan."

[quicktocut]

She does, setting her tea down and folding her hands in her lap. There really wasn't much you could do when someone was brushing your hair. Particularly not if that someone paid such close attention to detail, like He Of The Pretty Eyes did.

[piquedbutler]

Yiiiy!

His lips lift briefly into the facsimile of a smile, something Bright flashing briefly through his eyes as his fingers card briefly at her hair before he settles in properly behind her. One Hundred Strokes always go amazingly quickly under his expert care. It's still nice to be allowed to get there.

[quicktocut]

That was likely why she did it - that flash that made his eyes shine; that drew her attention and made her crave them. She'd miss him when he was gone, but she'd have his eyes to remind her of him. Always. And Declan was one of the few she felt familiar and comfortable enough with to allow such a thing. Giving her back to someone? In the Spade castle, of all places? Usually, that was suicidal - at best.

[piquedbutler]

It was one of his special privileges, really--there were very few Spades (if any; he was hard pressed to think of any off the top of his head) who wouldn't let him prepare their tea, their food, or show him their back, allow him to sweep fingers near the base of the back of their necks.

Not that he ever actually Touches without being asked. His fingers are light, conscious of not brushing against her skin while he works.

She'll get braids if he doesn't stop him in time, however.

[quicktocut]

For today, she might let him, moving her hand slowly to reach for her tea. "Things have gone well today, then?"

She wasn't surprised by much, but if he ever did try to harm her in any fashion, that would shock her. It was such a Not Declan move, she didn't even let it flit through her mind.

[piquedbutler]

It's almost an old tradition, really--the servants can be used for subterfuge, for violence and murder, but not the Chives. The Chives are their own breed, Belong to all the Spades equally, have never been successfully turned against their own Suit. They Clean Up, but never Make The Mess.

His hum ticks up briefly into a properly contented and brief bit of an old Deck lullaby, fingers smoothing fondly at the ends of her hair before resuming the swift, efficient brushing. "Quite well, Miss Maeve. The Suit's been quite well-behaved."

[quicktocut]

"With you to corral them, I hardly have any reason to suspect otherwise." Oddly, those brief times she was disturbed, when she was not in her calm center, these little sessions would help. Would set her back where she belonged and ease her mind. Declan was a constant. An assurance.

[piquedbutler]

Another old tradition, as old as the Suit itself--every Spade had at least one Chives who stayed Constant in their lives, could be leaned on and would hold together the pieces of the universe, no matter how battered the universe made the Suit.

"So many cats, Mistress." Which didn't mean he wasn't actually quite Adept at wrangling them.

[quicktocut]

"Mmm, yes. I'd noticed the furry invasion. What has gotten into the Deck lately? Was there some kind of animal rescue mission I didn't hear about?"

[piquedbutler]

"I can't begin to imagine, Miss." His fingers are nimble in the dividing up of her hair into distinct Sections. The final few strokes of the brush would be into Pieces, to make it easier to move Seamlessly into the braiding. "But I suppose it has made the Deck rather... contented."

Notable exceptions to this: one Isaac of Diamonds and one Declán of Spades. Sean and Karin seemed to be doing better with the influx of dander.

[quicktocut]

"You're likely to talk to the owners more than I am, so inform them that any creature not walking on two legs and dressed appropriately that finds its way into my sterile workplace will find themselves either forcibly evicted or permanently removed from making such a mistake again."

[piquedbutler]

Ah, his Good Girl. Always a pleasure to hear her speak. His hum is entirely approving.

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Maeve."

[quicktocut]

And it likely would be. Declan did so love his Order. Cats, and anything that didn't understand a Look, failed to follow the Rules. Besides, unless it was something she was working on stuffing, an animal had no business near her. "I'm sure it would."

[piquedbutler]

Of the current Non-Human Occupants of the Castle Spades, his eyes were currently trained most seriously on the menace of the small bird that sometimes got almost close enough for him to kill. Never yet--but soon.

"You know me too well, Miss."

[quicktocut]

"As well as either of us can, I suppose." She may have known him since childhood, but did anyone in any Suit ever truly know anyone else? The Spades particularly kept a tight lid on most of their true intentions. Maeve was aware of this, as she was sure most of the Suit, if not the Deck, was as well.