"Of course, of course. And we'll get you some clothes, too." He pulls back a little, stroking Alfred's cheek. "Come, I'll draw you a bath. Tomorrow, I'll teach you to hunt. We can't have you going hungry, can we?"
"That sounds...that sounds good. I can...tailor and mend, if I need to."
At the word hunt, he cringes again, though, even though he's calmed. Always wincing. Always anxious. "...I don't know if I'll be any good at hunting. I've never killed...anything, not on purpose."
"It's not too bad, once you get used to it. The first few kills I'll help you with, of course. While you're still learning."
He wraps his arm around Alfred's shoulder, leading him towards his bedroom. "You might need to do some tailoring, if you're going to wear my clothes." Herbert is not a small man.
Steadied by the touch, Alfred follows under the arm - it feels strange to walk these halls without feeling like he must be subtle. He belongs here, now. Maybe a little bit of him felt that he belonged here in the first place.
In spite of himself, he laughs at that comment, stealing a bashful little look up at his new...mentor? Friend? ...Something else?
"I can do that. If you ever need anything mended, I can - I can do that, too. I know how to sew, and mend, and darn. I used to do it for the Professor. Mother taught me."
Having a purpose makes him feel a little better, it seems.
"Sewing and darning, how wonderful! Mother never taught me anything useful like that. She and father spoiled me awfully, so I never learned to do much for myself. I'm utterly useless for anything but standing around looking pretty.
I'm good at hunting, I suppose. But I had to learn that more of of necessity than want."
"Oh," Alfred chuckles, nervously, not quite sure what the polite response to that would be. Herbert is calling himself spoiled, but is it rude to just...agree? Would it be more rude to try to counter the statement?
Eventually, he settles on none of those things.
"Well, if you...would ever like to learn, I can teach you. You know, just so you...you can feel like you know how?"
Great job Alfred, not an obvious statement at all.
"You know? I think I might like that. Lord knows Koukol can't mend or sew. So yes, you must teach me."
They finally reach Herbert's room, which is just as grand and ridiculous and opulent as Herbert is. Everything in dark wood and reds and golds. He ushers Alfred into the bathroom and starts the tub running, helping Alfred out of his coat.
"Oh -- we need to get you a coffin! You can share mine until we find a crypt for you."
"Well, then...I will. Maybe to embroider, too, if you want to...decorate...things?"
The bedroom is...well, it's about what he expected, actually, but still he casts a glance around at the finery with a look of awe before being moved to the bath.
He doesn't even have time to be embarrassed about the coat before the word coffin lands - and he freezes up suddenly, blanching a bit.
"...C-coffin? I... I'm...does it have to be a coffin?" He already knows the answer to that one - but he can't help it.
"I know," Herbert pouts, pushing off Albert's suspenders and helping him untuck his shirt. "It's awful, isn't it? But it is a necessity. It's what keeps us safe."
While the bath is running, Herbert pours in some of his rose scented bubble bath. "You've had a hard few days," he explains. "You deserve a little something nice."
There's a high noise of panic that escapes him before he can stop it - not at being undressed, though that is...that is another matter entirely. He moves his fingers idly to the buttons of his shirt, but he's shaking, fumbling.
"...It's just that...I'm...I'm sort of...afraid...of tight spaces?"
He watches, briefly, as the bubble bath is poured in. As it stands, this bath is...much nicer than anything he had ever had access to, let alone with bubble bath. The scent of roses is...nice, actually. Puts him a little at ease.
Herbert sort of...puts him to mind of flowers, if he thinks about it a little.
"Oh dear, that could be a problem." Though he sounds a little distracted, watching Alfred's trembling fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. "I'm afraid it does take some getting used to. I wouldn't insist on it, only I don't want you being burned by the sun."
Fortunately for Herbert, Alfred is, for the moment, clueless that he is being looked at - so there isn't as much hesitation as there might otherwise be when it comes to pulling his shirt completely off. Perhaps a little surprising given his demeanor...but years of toil, of carrying books and hoisting a grown man over his shoulder?
The nerdy, anxious little assistant is cut like glass, well muscled all throughout.
His mind isn't on his own physique, of course. He's too busy trying to figure out how he is ever going to sleep again. "...I...well, you said that...you said that I could sleep with y-"
Oh dear.
"You said I could...share yours for now, right? It's...it's pretty big, so maybe...I could...handle it tonight...."
"Oh!" Herbert's hands flutter for a moment, reaching out to touch Alfred's chest lightly, then draws his hand back, biting his lower lip with a pleased noise. "What? Yes. Yes you can sleep with me. Of course you can. Please do."
Alfred is puzzled for a moment before he realizes what Herbert is so excited about - he reddens at the touch, jaw working as he struggles to find words, realizing all at once that he is also about to have to get naked, get into the bathtub, and -
"I - I'm - I - y- I mea- I just - wh-"
Briefly, he looks like he might faint. He drops the shirt in a fumble, bending over to pick it up in his panic.
Herbert automatically reaches out to touch that glorious rear end, but he stops himself. He was going to be good, he said. So he bites his knuckle to try and suppress a pleased noise, instead.
"Share my crypt, I mean. Yes, of course. It's big enough for the two of us."
Standing back up, he sets the shirt aside, hanging it up. He glances shyly to Herbert for a moment before setting to more of his undressing. First he slips out of his boots, setting them aside...then go the socks, rolled down his (toned, so toned) legs and set aside.
Then go the pants, unbuttoned and stepped out of.
Lucky for Herbert, Alfred is a briefs man, clean and rosy pink, and his patience in staying his own hand is rewarded with a much better view.
"Oh, you torture me." Herbert sits on the ledge that surrounds the tub, crossing his legs at the ankles and pressing his hand to his mouth while he watches Alfred slowly reveal most of the rest of himself.
"Shall I turn away while you slip into the bath? To preserve your modesty."
Alfred turns around for a moment, confusion on his face - but then he realizes the meaning, and he blushes deeply, feebly wrapping his hands over his bare chest.
Not over the more salient thing, though. The contour to the front of those briefs certainly doesn't make him look as tiny and unassuming as his usual manner of dress would lead one to believe.
"...Yes, please," he stammers, clearly overwhelmed, but very much wanting to get in the water.
He makes a show of covering his eyes and turning his back to Alfred, to let the poor boy preserve a little bit of modesty. He's seen enough to whet his appetite, certainly.
"Let me know when it's safe to turn back. I'll wash your hair for you."
Wiggling himself out of the briefs once he knows he's in the clear, he finally climbs into the tub with a little splash - and letting out a little moan of relief at the feeling of the warm water.
Not thinking too hard about how that moan is gonna sound to someone not looking.
After a moment of settling in (and making sure the bubbles are obscuring him) he clears his throat softly before, timidly:
Herbert turns back around, resting his arms on the edge of the tub and his chin on his arms, watching Alfred fondly. "Hey ho. Do you feel warmer now? More relaxed?"
The little greeting is met with a nervous chuckle - but it's a friendly one, this time, a little less scared. He looks back at Herbert, briefly...actually meeting his eyes.
And then looking away, like something he thought startled him.
"Mmhmm. It's...it's much better. Thank you." The scent of roses is filling the air, the grime from the muddy snow outside washing away to little more than a bad memory.
"I'll wash your hair for you, shall I?" He moves around to situate himself in a better position to do so, pushing up his sleeves. "After the night you've had, you could use a little pampering," Herbert explains, carefully cupping water in his hands and pouring it over Alfred's hair, running his fingers through his hair to get it properly wet.
"I have the most marvelous shampoos. I take great pride in my hair, after all."
"Th-thank you. Your hair is very...it's very nice. And shiny. I can tell you take c-care o-o-"
All at once, Alfred's words sort of dissolve at the feeling of Herbert's fingers running through his hair. He goes very quiet, but not with terror this time...no, he is, at present, being surprised by Something Else.
Something that makes him let out a sort of high, keening whine in the back of his throat, a flush rising over his ears, his shoulders, his chest.
At first he worries he's hurt the poor boy somehow, but he realizes that that is not a pained noise. And that adorable blush might not be from the heat of the water.
"Oh-oh," Herbert singsongs, gently scratching his nails over Alfred's scalp. He takes his hands away for only a moment to pour shampoo into them, then starts working the lather through Alfred's hair with a grin. "I think I've hit upon something."
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At the word hunt, he cringes again, though, even though he's calmed. Always wincing. Always anxious. "...I don't know if I'll be any good at hunting. I've never killed...anything, not on purpose."
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He wraps his arm around Alfred's shoulder, leading him towards his bedroom. "You might need to do some tailoring, if you're going to wear my clothes." Herbert is not a small man.
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Steadied by the touch, Alfred follows under the arm - it feels strange to walk these halls without feeling like he must be subtle. He belongs here, now. Maybe a little bit of him felt that he belonged here in the first place.
In spite of himself, he laughs at that comment, stealing a bashful little look up at his new...mentor? Friend? ...Something else?
"I can do that. If you ever need anything mended, I can - I can do that, too. I know how to sew, and mend, and darn. I used to do it for the Professor. Mother taught me."
Having a purpose makes him feel a little better, it seems.
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I'm good at hunting, I suppose. But I had to learn that more of of necessity than want."
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Eventually, he settles on none of those things.
"Well, if you...would ever like to learn, I can teach you. You know, just so you...you can feel like you know how?"
Great job Alfred, not an obvious statement at all.
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They finally reach Herbert's room, which is just as grand and ridiculous and opulent as Herbert is. Everything in dark wood and reds and golds. He ushers Alfred into the bathroom and starts the tub running, helping Alfred out of his coat.
"Oh -- we need to get you a coffin! You can share mine until we find a crypt for you."
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The bedroom is...well, it's about what he expected, actually, but still he casts a glance around at the finery with a look of awe before being moved to the bath.
He doesn't even have time to be embarrassed about the coat before the word coffin lands - and he freezes up suddenly, blanching a bit.
"...C-coffin? I... I'm...does it have to be a coffin?" He already knows the answer to that one - but he can't help it.
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While the bath is running, Herbert pours in some of his rose scented bubble bath. "You've had a hard few days," he explains. "You deserve a little something nice."
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"...It's just that...I'm...I'm sort of...afraid...of tight spaces?"
He watches, briefly, as the bubble bath is poured in. As it stands, this bath is...much nicer than anything he had ever had access to, let alone with bubble bath. The scent of roses is...nice, actually. Puts him a little at ease.
Herbert sort of...puts him to mind of flowers, if he thinks about it a little.
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The nerdy, anxious little assistant is cut like glass, well muscled all throughout.
His mind isn't on his own physique, of course. He's too busy trying to figure out how he is ever going to sleep again. "...I...well, you said that...you said that I could sleep with y-"
Oh dear.
"You said I could...share yours for now, right? It's...it's pretty big, so maybe...I could...handle it tonight...."
Ohhhhh dear.
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"I - I'm - I - y- I mea- I just - wh-"
Briefly, he looks like he might faint. He drops the shirt in a fumble, bending over to pick it up in his panic.
Great view, huh Herbert?
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"Share my crypt, I mean. Yes, of course. It's big enough for the two of us."
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Standing back up, he sets the shirt aside, hanging it up. He glances shyly to Herbert for a moment before setting to more of his undressing. First he slips out of his boots, setting them aside...then go the socks, rolled down his (toned, so toned) legs and set aside.
Then go the pants, unbuttoned and stepped out of.
Lucky for Herbert, Alfred is a briefs man, clean and rosy pink, and his patience in staying his own hand is rewarded with a much better view.
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"Shall I turn away while you slip into the bath? To preserve your modesty."
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Alfred turns around for a moment, confusion on his face - but then he realizes the meaning, and he blushes deeply, feebly wrapping his hands over his bare chest.
Not over the more salient thing, though. The contour to the front of those briefs certainly doesn't make him look as tiny and unassuming as his usual manner of dress would lead one to believe.
"...Yes, please," he stammers, clearly overwhelmed, but very much wanting to get in the water.
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"Let me know when it's safe to turn back. I'll wash your hair for you."
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Wiggling himself out of the briefs once he knows he's in the clear, he finally climbs into the tub with a little splash - and letting out a little moan of relief at the feeling of the warm water.
Not thinking too hard about how that moan is gonna sound to someone not looking.
After a moment of settling in (and making sure the bubbles are obscuring him) he clears his throat softly before, timidly:
"Okay. I'm - it's safe."
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And then looking away, like something he thought startled him.
"Mmhmm. It's...it's much better. Thank you." The scent of roses is filling the air, the grime from the muddy snow outside washing away to little more than a bad memory.
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"I have the most marvelous shampoos. I take great pride in my hair, after all."
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All at once, Alfred's words sort of dissolve at the feeling of Herbert's fingers running through his hair. He goes very quiet, but not with terror this time...no, he is, at present, being surprised by Something Else.
Something that makes him let out a sort of high, keening whine in the back of his throat, a flush rising over his ears, his shoulders, his chest.
Uh oh.
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"Oh-oh," Herbert singsongs, gently scratching his nails over Alfred's scalp. He takes his hands away for only a moment to pour shampoo into them, then starts working the lather through Alfred's hair with a grin. "I think I've hit upon something."
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