𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞

Unexpected Arrival

She observed her intruder. He was slender but muscular, his tousled sandy blonde hair looked like he had just gotten off a horse in the middle of a windstorm she imagined, her imagination taking hold. At his sides he clutched two briefcases, clearly stuffed to the brim. His trousers were a dull brown, and his coattails dotted with mud. His perky, upturned nose. The stubble barely speckling his jawline. He looked up, his curious eyes scanning the room for only a moment before noticing his misplacement.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry miss. I must've gotten the wrong room, I could've sworn..." He muttered as he backed out of the doorway.

Florence, clearly confused, but eager to meet him rushed after him. She arrived at his side quickly, managing to catch the door before it closed. Up closer she noticed he must've been near her age, perhaps a smidge older.

"Here." She offered, swiftly taking the stranger's briefcases in her own.

He spun to face her, surprised, but before her could utter a word, Florence began walking. He followed suit, with no other option anyways.

"I'm sure father intended for this room." She announced kindly, gesturing the the door a couple doors ahead.

He muttered a little something inaudible, and continued along. Upon arriving at the door, Florence turned the large brass knob and led him inside. She placed his bags beside the bed and very unceremoniously plopped herself into the chair nearby. A mild look of amusement glittered across the boy's face at her improper actions.

"Who are you?" She stated, quite direct he noted. It seemed as if she wasn't all that aware of it though.

"I'm Clair." He responded shortly.

"Who are you?" He shot back, returning her mannerisms.

"I'm Florence. I live here. I'm fairly sure you can't say the same, so where are you from?" She asked inquisitively, studying him all the while.

"My father knows yours, they met back at the university in Liverpool."

"Supposedly." He adds, as if doubting his father's own story.

His speculation of the tale seemed to fit him in an odd way. He sat down onto the edge of the bed nonchalantly, cleared his throat and continued.

"The Mersey flooded just recently, and my father figured that I shall stay with you all for a bit." He took a moment to pause, pleased with his explanation.

"Is he alright?" She asked, harmlessly.

"He'll be okay." Clair didn't linger on the topic so Florence moved on.

"How long shall you be here?" She perked up, her tone softening.

"I'm not entirely sure, until your father kicks me out I suppose." He answered with a mischievous grin.

She gave a small laugh in return. Florence only wanted to ask more questions of the boy, but knew better than that. She rose, pulling up her skirts as to not step on them. A mistake which she had made multiple times.

"Well alright then. I suppose I'll see you at supper. Just find me if you need anything,  just the couple doors down remember?" She questioned almost as is he could've forgotten already.

"Yes of course. My apologies for walking in on you as well." He said once more, his eyes tinged with embarrassment.

"Oh don't fret, I was only reading." She exclaimed, flouncing out the doorway.

The boy's face lit up, his eyes twinkling with joy at the mention of reading. Just as Florence had rounded the corner he called her back. She regained her composure for a moment, hastily trying to mask her excitement at him calling her name. She turned to stand in the doorway, an expectant look upon her porcelain face.

"What was it that you were reading?" Clair asked eagerly.

"It's quite odd really." She prompted sheepishly.

"Alice in Wonderland." She finished with a shrug, color begging at her cheeks.

She was slightly blushing in embarrassment at the fact she was reading a sort of children's book.

"One of my favorites!" Clair exclaimed, rising from the edge of the bed.

He sat back down once he took notice of his enthusiasm. Florence smiled at that.

"You know it?" She quizzed, excited just that he recognized the title.

"Why of course I do." He announced, crossing his arms over his chest, contempt that he had.

Florence couldn't help but display the smile tugging at her lips. "Do you like to read?" She asked, the growing happiness evident in her tone.

"More write, I'm a novelist." He explained with sarcastic cockiness.

"You mean you write books?" Florence's astonished face made the boy smirk.

"Yes, I could show you some of my work sometime if you'd like." He offered kindly.

"Yes yes, I'd love that." Florence rushed out.

She quickly whirled around and raced down the hall back to her room, her slippers barely touching the carpets.