misterdowding

[misterdowding]

The opera house is a wonderful place to immerse yourself in music and drama. Singer Rachel Clarke has dazzled audiences for years and is said to be retiring. Tragic. It does seem the young, unmarried woman will be expecting a child soon. Her cruel glances at Mr. Thomas Dowding beg the question of whether his powerful words enchanted this singer and left her with something to remember him by. Poets are known for their dalliances. Could it be a coincidence?

Thomas had always been firm in the belief that gossip columns were poison to one’s mind, to one’s soul. There was nothing in them worth reading, no poetry, no heart, only cruelty. It was no surprise to his mother that when he returned home from promenading, he hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on. 

“Is it true?” She asked, rising from her seat and crossing over toward him, shoving the paper against his chest with a huff and a furious glance.

“Whatever do you mean?” He asked, calm as he set his hat delicately upon the side table and strode across the room to an armchair. His mother watched him with an imperious look as he leaned back, crossed his legs, and at last cast his gaze down upon the sheet. His brows slowly rose on his forehead, lips parting as the words came to life before his eyes. “It can’t be,” he murmured.

His mother let out a long sigh of relief. “You need to get this straightened out, then.” 

“No, I - Forgive me, mother, I misspoke.” It was not something that he often did and he pursed his lips together, rereading the paragraph once more. “It can be, I suppose.”

“Thomas!”

“But it might not! I must speak with her,” he stood, folded the paper and stuck it deep into his pocket. “Do not fret, Mother. Whatever the case may be, it will be fine.” His mother drew in a harsh breath, ready to spew out a few reprimands but Thomas kissed her cheek and left before she could.

* . °•☆•°∵ ∵°•☆•° . *

He burst into the opera house, thirty minutes before the matinee showing. He made his way straight for the stage, stopped by one of the workers. “Excuse me, sir, you must find your seat, only actors and friends may go back there.”

“I’m a friend.” Not quite true, after what happened, but more a friend than a patron in this instance, Thomas thought.

“Of whom?”

“Miss Clarke. Tell her it’s Mister Dowding, she’ll want to see me.”

The usher gave him a strange look and then turned to go backstage, allowing Thomas to follow from behind. It was not long before he found himself in the dressing room, a familiar enough room one month ago when he and Rachel were still enjoying one another. “Miss Clarke,” the usher said, causing her to turn and immediately catch Thomas’s eye. 

“You!” She exclaimed, rising from her seat like a lioness preparing to pounce. “How dare you- That’s very well, no Mister Reid, you may go. Yes, I’m fine, please go.” The usher left and the moment they were alone, Rachel turned her full attention back on Thomas. “You have some nerve showing up in my dressing room after what you did.”

“That’s just the thing!” Thomas interrupted, eyes wide, expression so innocent one might wonder if he really had abandoned her as cruelly as they both knew he had. “I don’t know. Is it true?” he pulled out the paper and held it out to her. “Are you with child? Is it mine?”

Rachel stared at him, eyes firm, resolve unwavering. “That’s the only reason you’re here?”

Thomas blinked at her, slowly nodded his head. “Yes.” He pursed his lips, drew in a breath. “Is there another reason I should have come?”

Rachel scoffed and took a step back from him, casting him a look of utter disgust and outrage. “How did I ever fall for it? Those words, that- that face! You look so kind, so genuine, you speak so softly and yet. . .”

“Rachel, I do not know of what you speak. Our affair ran its course, you were bored with me too, you cannot tell me you weren’t.”

“That’s why you left me on my birthday? Because I was bored? You told me you loved me, you said you wanted to take me to Rome!”

“I still can if that’s the problem, Rachel! I did love you, for a spell but you must know every story meets its conclusion. All of the good ones have an ending-”

Rachel barked out a bitter laugh and placed her hand over her stomach, clenched her jaw. She looked past Thomas, staring beyond him at the velvet curtains. “I must perform now.”

“But you will tell me first if it is true!” Thomas said, stepping between her and the exit. 

Rachel smiled and shrugged. “It’s yours. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will only be able to perform a few more shows before I retire. You won’t ruin my last performances, will you?”

Thomas shook his head, incredulous. “You’ll speak with me after?”

“Of course. A gentleman like you, you must have at least a small shred of honor to help fund the child’s upbringing. You do remember my address? Send what you will, or perhaps I can organize it with your mother, she comes to your box quite often, of course. Excuse me.” She passed him a sour smile as she departed for the stage, leaving Thomas frozen in place.

[misterdowding]

MINGXIA.

Mingxia shot Haitao a glare while he had a cheeky grin plastered on his face. Rolling her eyes a bit, her gaze returned to Thomas. “I’m sure I will need a companion at these parties, my mother will surely be accompanying me. However, she will be at the mercy of the mothers of the Ton. ”

“ Surely, you have had many travels since we last met. Surely, much more poetry has been written since then. ” Haitao said as he looked at Thomas. “ Tell us, which places have you been as of late? ”

Mingxia nodded at Haitao’s statement. The first time that Thomas had visited them in Paris, he showed her his poetry, which inspired her to write her own. Especially after her heartbreak with Antoinette, poetry was one of the ways that she coped. 

-

“Perhaps my mother can keep her company, should they get along we might all find ourselves with a brief reprieve.” He grinned as he spoke it, only half joking. As much as he and his mother bickered, he did love her, regardless of whether or not he was a good son.

Thomas returned his attention to Haitao and nodded. “I spent most of the off season in Rome,” he answered, “and you are right that I have written quite a lot since we last spoke. Some of my verses should see the papers within the coming months, and perhaps an epic, too.”

Thomas lived and breathed poetry, always jotting down metaphors that came to mind even if he didn’t have a poem to place them in yet. New verses from him were a regular during the season; he gathered inspiration while away, he wrote, and then he returned home to see it all put in print. 

“Which,” he looked down, smiling in an embarrassed, sheepish sort of way, “I really should be working on now. I left to appreciate the fresh air for a bit . . . Surely, I shall see you both at coming events?”

[misterdowding]

MARINA.

Marina felt all the breath leave her body as the man stepped slowly out of the shadows of the woods. Instinctively, she took several steps away, the water rising to meet the hem of her skirts, still clutched in her hands. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, even as she felt it plummet down to the very pit of her stomach.

Oh god.

Oh no.

“I-… Stay where you are!” Marina snapped, imperiously, surprised at how very much she sounded like her mother in the moment. She pulled her skirts tighter around her, trying to cover herself, without ruining the dress by letting it fall into the crystal pond waters. Her eyes darted around the clearing, trying to discern if there were any other boys hiding in the shadows, wondering whether or not to try to cut her losses and swim to the other side and figure out a different path back home.

“I’m-… I-I’m fine. I don’t-… How- Where did you come from?! What are you doing here? Explain yourself!”

-

Thomas stopped short, lifted his hands as if in surrender. “I mean you no harm,” he assured, voice calm and smooth; practiced in a speech gentle enough to hypnotize, to strike wonder. Perhaps, he should have stopped smiling but that smile held not one ounce of malice, only amazement, pure and inspired.

“From the park,” he answered, “I came to enjoy nature. The paths are lovely but not half as inspiring as what lies beyond in the woods . . . And here.” His lips twisted into more of a smirk but his eyes maintained a sheepish look to them, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I am only a poet, there is nobody here but myself to my knowledge.”

He lowered his arms, blue eyes stealing another glance down at the water, at how the moon reflected off of it, how the dark ripples warped the image. He was taking it all in, trying to catalogue every detail that he could for the poem he would write later. He looked back up at her. “I must admit, I feel as if I have walked upon a nymph. May I dip my feet in, too?”

[misterdowding]

PETER.

Peter gave an amused sigh and let his friend lead him to the table. Mr. Dowding seemed to be nearly in his cups, but it was no matter. They sat down as Thomas continued. Peter did not miss the compliment. Raising his eyebrows, he scoffed. “You’re trying to butter me up, aren’t you? I see nothing has changed.” It was nice to get back to such a banter as theirs so easily. Peter had not had the privilege of such a friendship as theirs in his years since Oxford and was surprised at how fast it had come to him.

“You flatter me so.” He lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long earned sip of the amber liquid. Sitting back, he shook his head. “What’s there to tell? You already seem to know I am now a physician. Certainly you are aware of that process.” Surely Thomas knew of Peter’s desire to follow in his late father’s footsteps. Even as a student at university, that had always been the plan in some respect. “That has been my focus for the past five years, along with taking care of my mama and sister.”

Peter noticed the gentleman staring past him every few seconds. “Something the matter?” He asked.

-

Thomas laughed under his breath and shook his head, blue eyes twinkling with a sort of amusement. “I’ve never tried to butter you up, Peter.” On the contrary, as fickle as his interests were, Thomas was always quite genuine about the compliments he shared. His affections were short lived but the thing about Thomas was that he believed in each one of them wholeheartedly, up until the day that he no longer did. When that day arrived, he cut them off like a split end, not caring what it turned into without him.

Peter had caused some resentment by his sudden disappearance and lack of attempts at maintaining their friendship, but Thomas would not flatter him falsely. 

He listened, leaned back comfortably in his seat with his legs crossed. Brows rose at Peter’s question, unsure where it came from. “Not at all,” he assured with a shake of his head, “I was listening. Do you enjoy your line of work, then?”

 Thomas wanted to ask why he never wrote after he left Oxford, why he didn’t care enough about their friendship to keep in touch but such questions scared him. He was not for confrontation, even if it might offer closure. He would rather pretend he was not wounded. 

“The medical field has always seemed such a ghastly thing to me,” he admitted, “I am sure you’ve seen many horrible things in your work, things which would not be polite to speak of. Though . . . You know, many of the best poems do? Poems about death and decay, it is not a matter I can write well about due to my lack of experience but I do enjoy reading them.”

[misterdowding]

😏 Pride

😏 Pride

Is your muse a leader? Who do they lead? He isn’t a leader in the traditional sense, he’s not in any position of power. He is, however, more of a leader than a follower. He marches to the beat of his own drum and is glad to inspire others to do the same.

Does your muse trust the judgment of others? No. He trusts his own judgement in all cases. That’s not to say he’ll tell others that they’re wrong, unless he’s certain that they are, but he’s an advocate for forming one’s own opinions and so that’s what he does.

How well or not well does your muse take constructive criticism? He takes it horribly. He will obsess over it, mulling the words over again and again so much that they start to haunt his dreams. Critics of his poetry have no idea just how deeply they’ve burrowed under his skin; Thomas can recite many of the disapproving reviews he’s read on command.

Is your muse very vain? Explain. He’s vain about things he feels he has the right to be vain about. He won’t brag or be vain in areas he’s not good in or just mediocre in but where he shines? He won’t shy away from lifting himself up. He knows he’s a phenomenal poet, he’s proud of his verses, proud of the queen’s acclaim, proud of his travels and adventures and will absolutely boast in those areas when it seems appropriate to do so.

How does your muse take pride in themselves and others? Things he takes pride in for himself are explained above but in others, he takes pride in their folly. Life should be full of it and so when a friend does something silly, something wild or romantic or out of the ordinary, he feels pride for them. That’s living, that’s making the most of your time, and he’s glad when he sees it.

What does your muse think their best trait is? Is it true? Thomas would say that his introspective nature is what’s best about him. It serves him well as a poet. It certainly is one of his better traits creatively but in reality, he’s not introspective enough to notice his own faults. 

[misterdowding]

🎲 - Pick a random question to answer from this list.

👻 - Do they believe in ghosts? What are their “ghostly experiences”, if any?

Thomas is absolutely superstitious. He reads too much and let’s his imagination carry him far past the ordinary. He believes in ghosts, vampires, mermaids, fairies, the whole nine yards. Anytime he travels and hears a folktale, he’s quick to internalize it and take it for truth. He won’t admit to it freely, it’ll take someone especially close to know just how whimsical his beliefs are but once he does admit it he’s incredibly passionate and prepared to make arguments in their favor. Once, he attempted to catch sight of the loch ness monster but unfortunately, was unsuccessful. Perhaps next time he’ll have better luck.

[misterdowding]

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side? 

Thomas is generally an amicable fellow. He doesn’t look for trouble and so he doesn’t often find it. So long as he’s treated with the same respect he’s giving then you will find yourself on his good side, assuming you aren’t a passing dalliance of his. 

He appreciates thoughtfulness, more than anything. Know him well and prove it here or there, recite his favorite poem, make his favorite dish, understand his soul. That’s what poetry is all about to Thomas, a language for souls to communicate with each other. One who understands that, who shows that they listen, will be appreciated. Thomas tries to do the same for those that matter most to him.

[misterdowding]

& @lordpembroke

Welcome to Meme Friday at The Ton! 🧣  Each Friday, we’ll post one or two memes for characters to reblog on their accounts. Reblogging the meme specifies that you are accepting asks from it, and that you’re also sending asks out to others. Feel free to reblog and answer memes until end of day Sunday. After that, save what’s left over in your inbox for the next Meme Friday. Enjoy!

Send in the attached emoji to hear more about your muse’s brush with the seven deadly sins. 

❤️ Lust

What is your muse’s sexual/romantic orientation?

Is your muse’s relationship history like?

Would you say your muse is bashful about intimate conversations, or are they the blunt one that makes everyone else uncomfortable?

Does your muse judge other couples? If so why?

Is your muse confident in their relationships? Why or why not?

What is your muse’s seduction style?

😏 Pride

Is your muse a leader? Who do they lead?

Does your muse trust the judgment of others?

How well or not well does your muse take constructive criticism?

Is your muse very vain? Explain.

How does your muse take pride in themselves and others?

What does your muse think their best trait is? Is it true?

😡 Wrath

Does your character anger easily? Why or why not?

Describe a point where your muse was the maddest they’ve ever been.

Is your muse easy to disappoint? How so?

Is your muse physically strong?

How does your muse act toward anger from others?

Does your muse see intimidation as a good tactic to gain respect?

💸 Greed

Has your muse ever lived above their means?

Do they have a prized possession? What is it?

Do they have or want a lot of money? Why?

Do they put a lot of value in brands?

What do they expect from the services they receive?

Is your muse the type to frustrate others because they want too much, or do they tend to give too much?

🍔 Gluttony

Is your muse a good cook?

Does your muse have a sweet tooth?

What is your muse’s favorite food?

Do they eat healthy, or tend to eat a lot of junk food?

Are they in the habit of judging the diet of others? Why?

Do they have any metaphorical hungering?

😒 Envy

Is your muse the jealous type? Why?

Does your muse have a rival?

Is your muse very petty? How so?

Has your muse ever sought revenge?

For what reasons does your muse usually envy others?

Does your muse want to be envied? Why or why not?

😴 Sloth

Does your muse take a lot of days off?

Does your muse have a habit of sleeping in? Why or why not?

How does your muse relax? Describe it.

Is your muse the type to enjoy massages or prefer not to be touched?

How does your muse help calm others down? Are they good at it?

Is your muse considered lazy by others? How come?

[misterdowding]

& @lordpembroke

Welcome to Meme Friday at The Ton! 🧣  Each Friday, we’ll post one or two memes for characters to reblog on their accounts. Reblogging the meme specifies that you are accepting asks from it, and that you’re also sending asks out to others. Feel free to reblog and answer memes until end of day Sunday. After that, save what’s left over in your inbox for the next Meme Friday. Enjoy!

🌙 - What’s their sleep schedule like? 

🎁 - How do they feel about their birthday/birthdays in general? 

🍷- How do they feel about alcohol? 

🗣️ - How do they handle public speaking? 

🎮 - What’s their favorite game? 

💓 - What are some signs they’ve fallen for someone? How do they show their affection? 

👻 - Do they believe in ghosts? What are their “ghostly experiences”, if any?

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about? 

🌱 - Do they have a green thumb or are they a plant killer? 

👪 - What’s their relationship with their parents like? 

🐒 - What’s their favorite animal? 

🧳 - What countries have they been to? 

🤔 - What’s something they’ll never understand? 

🎨 - What’s their favorite color? 

☂️ - How do they feel about rain? 

🖌️ - Do they have any hobbies? 

💤 - What do they absolutely need to have to fall asleep? 

🍳 - How well can they cook? 

😨  - When scared, do they go into “flight,” “freeze,” or “fight”?

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side? 

💗 - If they have a crush, is it noticeable? What changes when they’re in love?

💔 - What could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

🧑‍🍼 - How do they feel about kids? 

💬 - What are some filler/buffer words they use? (Like, um, etc.) 

🏳️‍🌈 - What do they identify as? What are their pronouns? 

🥰 - How does your muse feel about pet names? 

🎲 - Pick a random question to answer from this list.

[misterdowding]

I daresay, Thomas Dowding is absolutely divine at grammar, witticisms, reading, geography, literature, and French. And accomplished in fencing, dancing, penmanship, history, politics, philosophy, Italian, and singing, too. Though – did you know – he is dreadfully poor at croquet, badminton, playing cards, mathematics, natural sciences, boxing, and hunting? We do hope that won’t harm their prospects.

MATTERS OF SPORT. 0 Horse Riding 1 Carriage Driving (e.g., phaetons, barouches) 0 Croquet -1 Badminton -2 Fencing 2

MATTERS OF SOCIALIZATION. 8 Dancing 2 Etiquette 1 Fashion -1 Penmanship 2 Playing Cards -2 Grammar 3 Witticisms 3

Thomas doesn’t make enough money to wear all the latest trends in fashion and in fact, does not care very much for it. His charm makes up for his clothes, which aren’t bad besides. Unfortunately, though he’s absolutely dismal when it comes to cards, it’s still a hobby he often indulges in, much to the dismay of his mother and their coffers.

MATTERS OF EDUCATION. 11 Mathematics -1 Natural Sciences -2 History 2 Reading 3 Politics 2 Geography 3 Literature 3 Philosophy 2 Religion 0

Thomas received a decent education but being a poet and a bit of a drifter considering how often he travels, his strong points are all related. He was not raised religious and has very little interest in it intellectually, though he does enjoy its aesthetics.

MATTERS OF LANGUAGE. 6 French 3 Italian 2 German 1 Greek 0 Latin 0 Spanish 0

Thomas has picked up a little of a lot of languages throughout his travels but having spent the most time in France and Rome, his French and Italian are best. He’s completely fluent in both, although his Italian has a bit stronger of an accent and he’s more likely to forget words. He knows some German but cannot be said to be fluent or even close to it.

MATTERS OF ARTISTIC PROWESS. 2 Pianoforte 0 Violin 0 Harp 0 Singing 2 Painting 0 Drawing 0

Although it is not on here, Thomas is obviously an excellent poet in addition to these other artistic pursuits listed. Aside from poetry and a self-taught knack for singing, he’s also a competent flute player. Oftentimes, when alone, he’ll play for himself. It takes a close friend to coax him into playing with an audience and a closer one still to get him to sing.

MATTERS PERTAINING TO GENTLEMEN. -3 Boxing -2 Hunting -1 Dueling 0

Thomas is small and not one for fighting, his sword is his pen. He also hates hunting, he finds himself quite introspective over the poor animal’s life whenever he’s roped into it. Really, he’s quite the bummer to take hunting, and so fortunately, he gets few invitations.

[misterdowding]

JASPER.

Jasper furrowed his eyebrows after hearing the retort. His mind was busy trying to comprehend whatever Thomas just said. It sounded like he was saying they were different, that one was better. Thomas’s smile confirmed it. Jasper moved to the side of his chair. “Soldiers fight on the ground. The navy fights in the seas.” Jasper gestures with his hands. “At the end of the day, we are doing the same thing. The same could be said for you and Swift.” It was Jasper’s turn to smile. He may not be fancy with his words, but the point was made. 

“You don’t trust me, Dowding? I am hurt.” Jasper laid a hand over his heart, feigning a wound. “There’s no harm, but don’t you want to win?” It was the best outcome for any game. Playing for fun is easy, but winning makes the game more fun, in Jasper’s mind.

Jasper sat in the open seat next to Thomas, drawing from the deck. “You will find I have improved compared to before.” He winked. Jasper turned to the other gentlemen, finally acknowledging the table. He flashed his most charming smile. “Tell me, gentlemen, what’re we playing tonight? Whist? Piquet?” Jasper raddled off a few different card games, performatively shuffling the deck. It was time to impress. 

-

“You misunderstand, then. I am doing something entirely different from Swift. I do not go so far as to say that he could not write well, he certainly could, only his verses leave one wanting. They are dry, to the point, which a poem should never be. A dry, straightforward poem is not a poem at all but prose written in a pretty format.” 

Thomas paused to think through his point, ever eloquent and well spoken. He glanced at Jasper when he took the seat beside him. “What I am doing is furnishing a new school of thought. One that will define this age whether my verses stand through time or not, the imprint they leave upon this movement shall. Swift made great waves in satire, no doubt, but not in poetry. You may read them both but they are quite different things, one nourishes the mind, the other the soul.”

How quickly they fell back into their usual rhythm; Thomas waxing on about the importance of poetry, the beauty of it, and Jasper challenging him. It was always a great frustration to Thomas, who otherwise, was very fond of Jasper.

“It is not a matter of trust but intuition.” He murmured, raising a brow as Jasper introduced himself. He should know better than to follow his own gut instincts, considering the losses he had already made that evening. It would not be long until he was played off the table. “Pharon,” he answered, “it is not a game you and I played before. It’s from France.”

[misterdowding]

MARGARET.

Margaret caught a glance of one of the shoppe’s attendants who quickly came over with another set of fine china and a fresh pot of tea. She filled her cup, watching the steam rise and dissipate for a moment before smirking back at Thomas across from her, “Oh, don’t try to align yourself with royalty Mr. Dowding, it doesn’t suit you.”

She finally sipped from her cup with practiced delicacy, brows arching at the gentleman’s perspective. “I never thought of traveling as introspective. Anyway, Rome sounds lovely. Plenty of art and history to admire there. Somerset House can only amuse one for so long.” Margaret’s lips pursed in something close to a pout.

“No honeymoon because of Bonaparte,” Margaret whispered with exasperation. “We were so fond of Amsterdam, only to be discouraged at every turn. When we settled on the Isle of Wight, my father and all the surrounding Oxfordshire wives made us so busy with social calls we never got to leave at all.” She paused and added thoughtfully, “I think Lord Harcourt has been extra attentive to make up for it, to be fair.”

-

Thomas laughed at Margaret’s quip and shook his head. “You may think so but I’ll have you know, the queen truly does enjoy my verses. Several times I’ve recited for her and each I’ve found a look of delight upon her face when I am through.” It was no small accomplishment and so vain or not, Thomas enjoyed recounting it. He was proud to earn her acclaim and knew full well that it was her royal highness who garnered him the recognition he now enjoyed.

“If you let it be, it is.” He answered, taking another sip. “You see how different people live elsewhere and how equally as fulfilled they are, and that your way of living is not necessarily the only good one. That your life, in fact, is not as grand. Everyone feels grand among the people who know of them but in Rome, in Belgium, I wager that few have heard of Mulgraves or Harcourts, and fewer of Dowdings,” He paused just long enough for a smirk to light upon his features, “though I suppose now they have heard of me there.”

Thomas raised his brows and nodded. “Hm,” he mused, “well, let us hope soon you will be able to travel. Bonaparte’s days are numbered, I believe, you can only acquire so many enemies before a fall.” 

Politics were boring to discuss and so Thomas shifted in his seat, leaned forward. “You are enjoying married life, then? The earl treats you well?”

[misterdowding]

MINGXIA.

Haitao always noticed how uncomfortable his friends were at his overly friendly nature, but he paid it no mind. Looking at Thomas as he spoke, both of them let out a light laugh as he expressed his condolences. “You indeed are the first to express such sentiments, Mister Dowding.”

Mingxia gave a light smile and laugh when he noticed her not so subtle disapproval of being out in society on the marriage market. “I have not been too thrilled about it, no.” Haitao let out a laugh. “These are not the parties that she is familiar with back in Paris, isn’t that right Magnolia?”

Mingxia punched Haitao’s arm, though she knew she wouldn’t do much damage to him. “Aya! Shush, brother!” Harry couldn’t help but laugh at her comeback. Turning her gaze back to Thomas, her face was filled with blush and embarrassment. “I’m afraid that these parties will be quite…pale in comparison to those I used to attend in Paris.”

-

“Do you think so?” Thomas had attended social events in many countries and in each, he found something to be amused by. The French put on less airs but the English put on a show of illusion, one that Thomas enjoyed observing. 

“Do not go into it with such low enthusiasm,” he advised, “I assure you that if you look for it, you will find that the English know how to socialize just as well, though in their own way. It is true of everywhere that I have been.”

Though, he supposed there was some sense in approaching it with low expectations, if only to find yourself pleasantly surprised. Still, Thomas hated to discount anything before trying it, he found it was best to be open minded, to lay oneself bare before life and welcome whatever poetry and entertainment it offered.

“Anyway,” he added with a smile, “should you struggle to socialize with fine company, I am likely to attend many of the same functions. Feel welcome to seek my out as a companion, should you need one.”

[misterdowding]

PETER.

The energy in Brooks’ was unmatched during winter. So often did the gentlemen of the ton return to London before their wives, many settling debts before the new season began or simply just getting ahead of things. This meant that the attendance at the clubs was nearly doubled in the evenings.

Peter had just finished up a post-dinner house call near Hyde Park and was looking forward to thawing his frozen hands with a glass of port. His grandmother had offered her carriage for the event as she had already settled in for the night, but he had been too optimistic about the weather to take her up on it. Gentlemen bundled head to toe in wool shuffled paused Peter as he entered the establishment. The noise level did nothing to tamp down his anxiety though. It has been a few years since Peter was confident in a social setting. In childhood he thrived at school, and used that success to keep himself assured. As the years went on however, he found himself feeling more and more out of place, awkward.

The line at the bar was nonexistent so Peter beelined that way, unaware of the presence that was approaching. At the mention of his name, he turned and came face to face with a familiar face.

“Hello,” he answered innocently, yet knowing exactly who the gentleman was. Right hand placed over his heart. He mused, “Thomas Dowding, I am hurt. We did not spend nearly a year in adjoined dorms at Oxford for you to toss me off like that.” Peter hoped the sarcasm and amusement in his voice was apparent.

-

Thomas smiled at Peter’s sarcasm and nodded; he did not approach him to cause strife, even if he wanted to know why Peter never wrote to him or spoke to him in seasons past. “I have not tossed you off,” he assured, placing a hand over Peter’s shoulder, “come and sit with me, why don’t you? It’s been quite some time and I’ve not heard a word from you since you left Oxford . . . It was quite sudden.” His tone was friendly, fitting to welcome an old friend back into his life. He turned to the bar and ordered them both a drink, then took the two glasses in his hands. “Come.”

With long strides, he returned to his seat at the edge of the room. It was a perfect spot to people watch, positioned so that all was in view. Peter’s chair, on the other hand, had his back turned to the scene. Thomas sat down with a sigh and set their glasses upon the table, leaned back in an over-comfortable, languid fashion.

“We were much younger last we spoke,” Thomas mused, “you have aged well, my friend.” A flirt, as always, though subtle enough not to put Peter on the spot. Knowing Thomas, it was easy enough to take it as mere flattery and this time, it was. He had always enjoyed flattering others, it was the most effective way to put one at ease, he had found. 

He took a sip of his white wine. “You must tell me what you’ve been up to all this time, aside from work, though I should be interested to hear of that, too.”

[misterdowding]

🙊 - Has your muse ever put their foot in their mouth?

Rarely. Thomas's way with words has been phenomenal since he was young, he doesn't have to try very hard to say pretty things. Of course his poetry is given more thought but his way of speaking comes naturally and usually serves him well. The few times he has put his foot in his mouth are when he's flustered, get him riled or nervous and he'll lose a lot of his eloquence.

[misterdowding]

⭐️ Does your muse have a secret talent?

Thomas put most of his eggs into the one basket; poetry. He's still decent at other things but it's just the one that he'll knock your socks off with. Other lesser talents include the flute, horseback riding, and flirting.

[misterdowding]

🔖- When they shop, does the price or product matter more?

Thomas is a great connoisseur when it comes to literature but that is where that talent ends. He dresses moderately well, fashions his home moderately well, but he doesn't quite have an eye for what's "worth it". He'd get something based upon what others think of it, he's somewhat of a social climber in that respect, so . . . If it's expensive then so be it, if it's less expensive but still all the rage, so be it.