Forgive me for each halting line

Ⅰ

The commission had been simple enough; paint a pretty portrait of some lord or another, within a specific amount of time. Make him look beautiful and majestic, though he might not look that way. It wasn't something Kaveh hadn't done before.

While he'd much rather be spending his time on more interesting projects, his debts were beginning to become rather frighteningly deep, and his pockets painfully shallow. Therefore, when he got approached by an acquaintance with this particular job, he jumped at the chance.

Now here he is, sitting in a pretty garden filled with delicate roses, colorful lotuses and gorgeous padisarahs, easel set up with and paint arranged neatly in a row on the table beside him; all that stands between him and his promised five-hundred thousand Mora being the lack of a painting on the blank canvas.

Said Lord hasn't bothered to show up. It has been hours, yet there is no sign of this damned lord... Al—Alhaitham, was it?

How rude.

Had it not been for the beautiful garden with pretty plants begging to be drawn by Kaveh, he would have left a long time ago.

"I'm sorry, Master Kaveh, I'm certain the young Lord will be joining you soon." A sheepish little laugh adorns the maid's face as she gently pushes his paints on the table beside him aside in favor of a small plate of refreshments; expensive tea from a faraway land, pastries he has never been able to afford, those sort of things. It doesn't do much to make him feel better about being treated with such disrespect.

"Didn't you say he'd be here three hours ago?" Kaveh asks, trying to hold back the frustration in his voice. It wasn't the maid's fault, at least, not to the best of his knowledge. With a soft huff, he busies himself putting his pencils away and closing his sketchbook shut.

He is done waiting.

"Oh! My Lord!" The maid's startled exclamation makes Kaveh look up and follow her wide-eyed gaze.

'Speak of the devil, I suppose.'

Kaveh pauses as his eyes catch on a handsome, awfully well-built man with silvery soft hair and striking teal eyes. He walks with purpose and pride, and judging by the expensive-looking clothes and priceless gems hanging from his sash like they are nothing more than useless trinkets, it is easy to assume that this is in fact the young lord in question—Kaveh's client.

The client who has left Kaveh waiting for hours.

"You must be Master Kaveh, of the Kshahrewar." The young Lord says. He has a deep and smooth voice that Kaveh would happily listen to for hours, if it weren't so monotone.

He silently walks by Kaveh to take his spot on the chair placed in the midst of the garden. A strong, almost cloying smell immediately wafts past Kaveh wrinkles his nose.

'Ugh, an Alpha. That explains so much.'

"You must be Lord Alhaitham. Is it customary for you to keep others waiting for hours?" He can't help but point out the rude treatment he has been subjected to, with no small amount of resentment in his voice.

"No, not usually." The Lord says candidly. Kaveh waits for the man to elaborate, but he remains silent. He simply adjusts the cloak hanging off his shoulders, pulls a book from seemingly nowhere and opens it to a random page, which he begins reading.

Kaveh can't tell if the Lord is snubbing him, or if he is just like that. Well—whatever—it's not like he hasn't had eccentric clients in the past.

"Now that you're here, can we finally get started?" Kaveh sighs, setting down his sketchbook onto his lap. Lord Alhaitham just glances up from his book to give him a stoic and blank look. Kaveh assumes that's the go-ahead.