She was a Deceiving wayward woman.
And he was a false prophet at the pulpit.
The condition of their souls were eroding.
Rated R
Warning: Drugs, violence, bad behavior, explicit behavior, sexual behavior, alcohol, foul language
18+ only
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"Raised platform in a church." Sir James mumbled to himself erasing his previous answer on the morning crossword in the newspaper.
"Lectern" Farleigh answered, biting into his bacon, his own paper in his hands.
"Tried that" Sir James mumbled in thought.
"Pulpit." Belle offered before taking a bite of her sausage as Felix peeled hers and his hardboiled eggs.
"Oh, right right." Sir James smiled scribbling in the word.
"Morning." Oliver greeted walking into the dining room.
"Morning." everyone greeted back, minus Farleigh.
"You sleep well, mate?" Felix asked, setting Belle's peeled egg on her small side dish.
"Erm ya." Oliver nodded, fiddling with his fingers nervously as he approached the only other open chair, once again right next to Pamela. He looked around at the moving staff, expecting a plate to be put in front of him like last night.
Venetia looked down biting her lip to avoid laughing, nudging Belle who was too engrossed in her mumbles of praise to Duncan who had once again gotten her morning tea just right. "Hey, Oliver, have some breakfast." Felix nodded to the side table against the wall, moving his hands as Duncan turned to him to top off his tea.
"Er, can I get a full English breakfast too please?" Oliver asks Duncan as the man stands to his full height. Everyone halted their movement, Sir James looking between Oliver and Duncan confused. And Duncan's ever-passive face bristled in offense for just a moment before returning to a blank slate.
"Breakfast is on the side darling," Elspeth spoke up. "Just help yourself."
Oliver turned to the table right behind him, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "How would you like your eggs?" Duncan asks cooly.
"It's fine. I can get them." Oliver dismisses.
"Not the eggs. The eggs are made for you." Farleigh cuts in already done with Oliver's bullshit for the day.
"Exactly. And everything else is on the side." Elspeth waved cheerily.
Oliver looked to Belle and Felix for help, the latter licking the jam from his fingers, their eyes flicking to Duncan and him expectantly. Oliver cleared his throat "Fried over easy please." He answered Duncan.
"Ollie love we were just talking about the Shelley biography, with your shared love of Lit what is your take?" Belle asked before taking a bite of her chopped tomatoes and mushroom.
"Shelley who? Shelley, Belinda's sister Shelley?" Pamela asks confused. As Oliver gets up and starts fixing his plate.
"Oh, Percy Bysshe Shelley. The poet." Sir James answers rather bristled by her lack of knowledge about the arts. "The Romantic Poet." He elaborates when her face shows she has no idea who he is talking about.
