chocolate with whipped cream and fresh peaches
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Grave Implications
Rating: PG
Challenge: Chocolate #23: (in)security
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream, fresh peaches
Wordcount: 656
Summary: Master Ashdown has a request to make of his new employee.
Notes: Early on in their employment. Fresh peaches: The Moon moves into peace-loving Libra today before forming a square with Pluto this evening. Although you would probably rather avoid conflicts now, you would do better to face challenges head-on rather than try to run from what you fear.
Prowse didn’t know why he had been called into his employer’s office just after dinner but he knew it was probably nothing good. He knocked, received his invitation and stepped into the room with a dour expression on his face. Usually he didn’t see Ashdown until nine in the evening, at which point the hideous lessons on etiquette and diction began. Being called into the office early was always a bad sign.
Once he was stood uncomfortably in front of the desk, Ashdown looked up. He did not dillydally.
“Mr Prowse,” he said, which was about as much acknowledgement as he usually gave. “I have a request to make of you.”
Prowse didn’t let his expression change, but internally he was sighing. What now? Ashdown seemed fond of setting fussy, useless, ridiculous tasks for him to do-running errands and having to interact with other members of the upper crust. Prowse felt like dirt compared to the butlers, let alone the higher-ups themselves. Apparently that sort of thing would be brilliant training for the future. He disagreed.
“Sir,” he was all he replied dully.
Observing him through composed, grey-blue eyes, Ashdown nodded ever so slightly.
“I would like you to stop drinking,” he said, voice still soft but somehow picking up that deadly tone it always did when he was expecting to be obeyed inflexibly. “Alcohol, of course, not in general. But I am sure you understood that.”
Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. Prowse tried not to seem too shocked.
“Drinking?” he asked faintly.
“You’re not going to deny it, are you?” Ashdown asked with genuine suspicion. “Because I am afraid the stench of pure ethanol that follows you around is rather too indicative for that.”
“I…” Prowse began, and then changed tact. “It’s normal, sir,” he protested weakly.
“To my knowledge, it has never been considered ‘normal’ to drink oneself into unconsciousness on a nightly basis, but I will be sure to ask around,” Ashdown replied in that terribly serene voice, now topped off with an infuriating smirk. “Until your point is proven, however, I would rather like it if you stopped drinking at all. It would be a shame to invest all of this time in you only to have you die of alcohol poisoning within a year.”
Prowse opened and closed his mouth. He had started drinking when Charlie had died and for some reason had found it hard to stop. Perhaps it was because he didn’t exactly enjoy working for Ashdown, no matter what the perks were. The calmest, most genteel part of his brain had always known it was a problem, but he’d never thought it was noticeable.
Did people really look at him and see an alcoholic?
He wasn’t an alcoholic, was he? He just drank. Admittedly he drank a lot, but…
“Yes, sir,” he managed to croak. When had he last had a drink? It had been that morning, entire hours ago. Well, if you didn’t count the tiny sips he took over the course of the day, but they were only mouthfuls. He simply couldn’t be addicted.
Nonetheless, he didn’t much fancy the thought of going without it…
“And don’t try to drink without my noticing, Mr Prowse,” Ashdown said-calmly and without suspicion, but it still annoyed him. “It won’t work.”
“Sir.”
“It’s probably for the best of you just as well as for me,” Ashdown continued, now turning his attention down to the ledger in front of him with a small hum. It looked like his time being the central focus of Ashdown’s attention was coming to a close. “If you attempt to deceive me, you will be dismissed on the spot. I hope you understand the grave implications of that statement.”
Did he just suggest he’d have me killed? Prowse thought, astonished. With Ashdown, he really couldn’t tell.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good evening then, Mr Prowse. See you at nine o’clock.”
“Good evening, sir.”