Masked Intentions (1)

Mikael sat nervously across from Esteemed Lady Clarissa, anxious butterflies fluttering in his stomach. The soft clink of silverware being prepared on the table seemed to be mimicking the rapid thud of his heart against his ribs.

A cold sweat pricked his skin; his hands lay still on his lap. He could not help but notice how the once-smooth fabric of his dress suddenly rugged against his clammy palms.

His mind raced, wondering, '…Where is Nicolaus?'

Though he knew deep down that expecting him to join them for breakfast was wishful thinking, considering Miss Celia had confirmed Nicolaus' all-nighter.

However, faced with the presence of an esteemed lady alone at the table, Mikael found himself at a loss for what to do next. A wave of awkwardness washed over him, and his stomach started churning.