Without hesitating, Alfred carefully drapes the cloak over his arm, walking it over to his coatstand to hang it safely and carefully. Every time he handles one of Georg's cloaks, he is always this way - respecting it, respecting what it means and represents to the Count.
Once it's set, he moves to the bench, taking a seat behind Georg and taking up a brush. His voice is very gentle when he speaks, no judgement there.
"It's all right, Georg," he breathes, long, careful fingers sweeping forward to collect the hair he wears tumbling down his chest and pull it back. Before using the brush, he starts with his fingers, very gently pulling loose any little knots and tangles.
He can guess why Georg doesn't do this for himself. It's something he's been meaning to talk to him about, and...perhaps this is a good moment for it.
"...You...you know that I think you're beautiful, don't you?"
no subject
Without hesitating, Alfred carefully drapes the cloak over his arm, walking it over to his coatstand to hang it safely and carefully. Every time he handles one of Georg's cloaks, he is always this way - respecting it, respecting what it means and represents to the Count.
Once it's set, he moves to the bench, taking a seat behind Georg and taking up a brush. His voice is very gentle when he speaks, no judgement there.
"It's all right, Georg," he breathes, long, careful fingers sweeping forward to collect the hair he wears tumbling down his chest and pull it back. Before using the brush, he starts with his fingers, very gently pulling loose any little knots and tangles.
He can guess why Georg doesn't do this for himself. It's something he's been meaning to talk to him about, and...perhaps this is a good moment for it.
"...You...you know that I think you're beautiful, don't you?"