[HSM] Sinner's Pastry Delivery

The second driveway was further down the road than the main one - but it didn't feel much longer to drive up than the other one did. Even with no traffic, it...well, it was more of a private road than a driveway. This one was gated, much like the main drive...but when Bianca pulled up towards the gate, it opened without incident, closing behind her car. There was no intercom announcement to buzz her in, which was unusual, but not unheard of.

The second drive led around to the side of the mansion - where the limo they usually were seen driving and a few other smaller, older cars were parked. It was neatly kept back there, too, which implied that gardening was one of Michael's many tasks. There were never any other servants around...was he really the only one working here? It seemed an impossible feat, but then, there was only one person to care for and they seldom had visitors.

There was a door around the side of the mansion, and the light beside it had been turned on to signal Bianca's entry and to invite her to ring there.

As if on cue, the door swung open - and there was Michael, dressed in his clean white suit, as always, back ramrod-straight as he regarded the girl at the door. At least, at first glance everything seemed normal...but upon closer inspection, the dark rings under his eyes were very dark today indeed, his face looking a little pale.

"Bianca - please, come on inside. We can speak where it is warm and dry." His voice was a little raspy, as it had been on the phone, and his movements were overly stiff as he stepped aside to allow her in through the door. The room behind him, however, was every bit as inviting as such a large place suggested it might be...warm, clean-smelling, and well-lit. She was one of few to be allowed into the place - and one of even fewer, it must be admitted, to take the direct service entrance. That gate was almost always completely locked.

Quietly, the young man shut the door behind her, turning to regard her as she spoke. Her habit of keeping a distance never bothered him...for that matter, it was quite welcome at the moment, given the day he had had yesterday. He tended to be rather...shy about being close to anyone except Mister Stewart, himself. What did bother him, on the other hand, was that she was picking up on him being unwell. He seemed to stiffen a little bit more at the insinuation, bristling ever so slightly.

"I am fine, please do not worry...I...I merely haven't slept much, I've been in a hurry." His behavior was a little strange, and it seemed like even he realized he wasn't sounding convincing...because after he said this, he gave a slight sigh, regaining his composure as best he could. What was going on? He was never like this when he visited the shop....

"Really? That is very kind...you are seldom wrong about what we will like." He managed a small, flimsy, polite smile (which, for him, was just a twitch at the corners of the mouth - always so serious), gesturing for her to follow him into the dining hall. "I have made some tea - please, do follow me."

A bit relieved that she was content with his answer, he led her through the smaller entrance hallway, keeping his tone arch in regards to his condition. He certainly was moving strangely, even more mechanical than usual, but he tried to minimize his discomfort as best he could. "I am certain that they could. Your baking is always very good." Pushing the door open into the rather large dining hall - far too large for two people living in the house! - he held the way open for her, calming somewhat when the topic changed. Michael was good at brewing tea - he favored tea over coffee, himself, and spent quite a lot of time perfecting his technique.

"Today is a lemon and orange tissane - good to stave off colds caught in the rain." Patiently, he waited for her to pass through the door before closing it. Mister Stewart was seated at one of the tables near the window, staring out at the falling rain...he turned in his wheelchair as he heard Bianca enter, inclining his head a bit in greeting. On the table in front of him was a silver tray with a teapot and some cups - it all looked rather inviting and warm in the weather, despite the size of the room.

Michael - mechanical as ever - stopped just beside Mister Stewart, turning on his heel to regard her again. This whole situation was just a bit bizarre...it was true, Mister Stewart WAS a very private person, and generally, there were just some pleasantries exchanged and he was off on his merry way. That being said, here he was anyhow...allowing the girl to stay for tea. Michael was acting strangely, too - perhaps even looking a little bit unhinged, compared to his usual well-kempt, collected self.

In truth, Mister Stewart was doing this for Michael's sake - hoping to get him to calm down a little bit. His concern for his young aide was increasing steadily, and he was getting antsy...he hoped the rain would end quickly this time. He kept all of this to himself, however, as he gestured for Michael to come near - whispering into the younger man's ear as usual. Michael straightened back up, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Miss Bianca White. It's no trouble, you were quite brave to come out on such a nasty day. Please, take a seat and rest for a bit...upon the table the boxes may sit. So says Mister Stewart."

Well, at least that all was rather typical of them. The older man gestured to the chair across the little table he was sitting at, knowing full well that she preferred to be a bit farther away.

Michael shuffled over and pulled out the chair for her before returning to Mister Stewart's side again.

Curiously, the younger man didn't sit at the table at all - he remained standing as he set to laying out things for the tea. When Bianca questioned about how the two of them were doing, he paused, leaning in to collect the next message he would relay for Mister Stewart. Straightening back up, he addressed her straight-on, completely stopping what he was doing for the moment.

"Miss Bianca White. I - that is to say, Mister Stewart - do not care for all this rain...it only seems to bring Greenvale pain." The older man was watching Michael as he spoke this time, as if gauging a reaction - there was the faintest flicker of frustration in the younger man's stormy eyes, but beyond that, he merely kept speaking. "Beyond that, yes, I have been fine...I find other ways to occupy my time. So says Mister Stewart."

Michael then went right back to working on the tea - he seemed to be pretending not to have heard Bianca's questioning about his own state. Mister Stewart watched him for a moment, seeming to notice this...then looked to Bianca, gesturing faintly to Michael and then shrugging a bit. I don't know what's wrong, he seemed to be trying to say. Was this why she was invited up to the mansion? Perhaps to cheer up the young man?

Oblivious to all of this, Michael poured Bianca her cup of tissane, gently sliding the cup and saucer across the table to her.

Again, Michael bent down to listen. Again, he relayed what was said.

"Miss Bianca White. The rain brings things back that should be buried...it leaves everyone bleak and harried. So says Mister Stewart." Typical. Mister Stewart was never quite the right person to talk to about the rain if one wanted a conversation that didn't sound paranoid - but most by now had learned to shake off the strange, cryptic talk. Surely he was just an eccentric old man, living alone with a single aide who - sometimes it seemed - might not be all there himself. Mister Stewart leaned back in his wheelchair, nodding back towards Bianca, pleased with her acknowledgement. He never ate or drank in front of anyone, and today was no different...he merely observed. He was content to.

At the change of subject, the younger man seemed to ease up just a little, the corners of his lips twitching in a slight smile. It was nice to have his work appreciated, after all. He poured himself a cup of tea, finally taking his seat beside Mister Stewart. As he sat, he winced ever so slightly, back arching momentarily away from the back of the chair as if recoiling...he settled back slowly, but he still didn't look comfortable.

Pretending nothing had happened, he turned his attention instead to the pastry, a bit of enthusiasm finally edging its way into his eyes and voice. "That looks wonderful, what beautiful work! I'm still trying to get the knack of puff pastry. I've mastered a number of different desserts, but getting the texture correct for it evades me." Leaning forward slightly to inspect the pastry closer, he was certainly impressed with the quality of the work - the craftsmanship of Bianca's desserts was exquisite.