𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞

Night Terrors

"I knew you would like it!" Clair exclaimed.

"It's amazing, your words, the descriptions. Everything Clair!"

His face softened. "Thank you."

"Are you sure you don't want to keep even this one?" Florence asked sweetly.

"No, no, it's all yours." He assured her.

Florence wanted to reach out and hug him, wrap her arms around the novelist.

"Take me to your room." She breathed.

After the odd look registered on Clair's face she realized how she had sounded.

"I want to read your other stories." She frantically explained.

He grinned and stood up. She followed after him, together the wound through the mansion. As Florence passed her door a thought struck her, and it had completely slipped her mind.

"Oh, I ought to change!" She squealed, branching off for her room.

"No." Clair called after her.

"I don't mind." He muttered, his gaze lingering on her silhouetted figure.

"Oh but my hair." She complained.

"You look lovely." Clair declared quietly.

Florence felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Slowly, she fell back in stride with him, following his orders to not get changed. It was silly really, one knew one should be properly clothed. Especially when oneself was alone with a male. Florence blinked hard to clear the thought. "We met yesterday!" She screamed at herself.

Clair held open the door as Florence entered. She saw the bed was unkempt, and the floor already littered with papers, an inkwell placed on his desk

"You've already been working?" She asked quizzically.

"Last night, I couldn't sleep." He announced in return.

Florence bit her lip to keep herself from bursting.

"Oh." She murmured.

She took the liberty of seating herself in Clair's chair as she had yesterday. All her manners seemed to be ebbed away simply by his presence. She noticed, but it didn't seem to matter.

"What were you writing about?" She asked, narrowing her eyes playfully at him.

"A young knight."

"What was so important about this young knight."

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." Clair confirmed.

"What do you mean?" Florence pressed, eyes curious.

"Well I was just writing from another perspective is all. Almost like a diary. Putting myself in the knight's place, just to take on another persona. Sometimes you write just for the sake of writing Florence." He explained softly.

The way he said her name made her shudder. She had never pictured her name as pretty, but it sounded heavenly coming from Clair's lips. He hit every letter, enunciated them perfectly. Caressing the "r" and sharpening the "c".

She cocked her head in amusement in response to him. He swiped his hair from his eyes and grinned at her. Florence's mind still flickered back to what he was doing last night. She tried to refrain herself, but couldn't manage.

"Clair, were you alright last night? I heard quite a ruckus." She asked gingerly.

"You were up?" He shot back, the concern visible in his eyes.

"I was only reading." She admitted softly.

"What, reading what?" He inquired once more.

"One of your drafts." She murmured.

"You told me you hadn't read anymore." He said, the bemused look spreading on his innocent face.

"It was only half." She explained quietly.

"Why'd you stop?" Clair dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Because I heard you." She explained, returning back to the topic.

He hung his head, looking towards his shoes. He cleared his throat.

"I had gone to check on Cathryn." Clair recalled, not a complete lie.

"She often gets the terrible night terrors, I've taken it upon myself to watch over her." He finished.

"Oh. Alright then." Florence murmured, whilst standing up from the chair.

"Sorry for asking, I just wondered if you were searching for the washrooms." She explained kindly.

"Oh no. I've found them." He noted with a smile.

"Well, I ought to leave you to your work then. I'll see you some other time." Florence promised, moving towards the door.

"Alright Florence. Do return soon." He replied with a longing gaze as she exited his room.