George VI

"If you're not going to sleep, you can at least eat." - Bertie ✨

Tired Sentences, Vol. 4

It was a scenario the two of them had been in before, and one they'd undoubtedly be in again. In fact, it was rare for them to spend a prolonged amount of time together without one of them needing to step away to deal with a pressing matter, the time required ranging from a mere moment to, as was currently the case, all night and perhaps even longer.

Whenever the extended situations occurred, one thing was certain: whoever's time was required would do what needed to be done, no matter how long it took, and the other would encourage them to take at least one break. Today was no exception. Once again invited to stay with his friend for a few days but drawn away by the latest in a never-ending string of crises, Mycroft had skipped dinner and it was clear he would also have to forgo rest.

Having missed the meal, the King had seemingly elected to bring it to him instead, most likely in the knowledge that it was not going to be refused when it was delivered by him. While Mycroft knew he was perfectly capable of managing without for a night, maybe even longer, part of him was grateful not to have been left to his own devices. Of course, this would be different were it anybody else attempting to prompt Mycroft to look after himself, but an exception could be made for the other man - both because of his status and because of their friendship.

"Thank you," he replied, though he still put the plate to the side for the moment. Mycroft didn't feel the need to point out that he appreciated the kindness in addition. He thought that obvious enough as it was.

"Perhaps, when you next pass a member of staff, you could also request on the behalf that I am not disturbed in the morning? I predict I can be finished this before breakfast, but considering how I know you won't mind my lack of presence, I think we can both agree it'll be for the best if I catch up on whatever sleep I've missed once the sun has risen and spare you all an exhausted man's foul mood."

Mycroft laughed, but his words were true. He was only human, and he suffered from the ill effects of lacking sleep just as much as any other man.

It was a common enough occurrence that Bertie was not too worried about Mycroft not joining them for dinner. He did however know full well that he wouldn't eat unless the food was right in front of him and he could continue working while picking at it, aware of doing so or not. He had counted on Mycroft being unwilling to shoo him away and have to accept any plate hand delivered by him. He'd even brought up a knife and fork for him to use too.

The food was set aside which was no surprise, he was sure the smell would lure him into picking at it eventually, he was just glad it was going to be within reach.

"I might invest in a do not -disturb sign for you to -hang on your door." He gently joked and took a light seat, opting to remain on the edge but with his bad legs, standing was less an option and it wasn't like anyone was going to tell him not to sit. He sat as a promise that he wouldn't be staying though, not wanting to delay Mycroft in his work.

"You are under no -obligation to -join us for breakfast, though you will be missed it sounds as if it is -better for all of us if you -have the option to recover from your work." A promise that no, they wouldn't be offended, with the pair of them prone to working at all ungodly hours as required of them it wasn't as if the family was not used to it. "I will -have to insist on dinner -tomorrow though," he warned as he wouldn't want Mycroft to miss two meals. "I suspect after a rest and some recovery without -disturbance, you will be ravenous by the -time dinner will be served." It wasn't accusatory, it was fact as far as Bertie was concerned and he would do what he could to look out for his friend, even if that involved bullying him into eating something.

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The waistcoat along would not be the end of the world. Paired with an otherwise plain outfit, it could provide a small flash of colour that could be visually appealing. Of course, it was still not a fashion trend that Mycroft would find himself wearing, nor was it one he would have suggested if the item had not already been in front of him, but he hardly thought it would be the most hideous thing he had ever seen.

Thankfully, the King did understand common sense, and he did consider the consequences of his actions too. Mycroft was always grateful for that. It made his job a lot easier when he didn't have to concern himself with the behaviour of the monarch, and while he was unlikely to ever say it aloud, it was one of the many times he found himself relieved that fate had put the other man on the throne and not his brother.

Sometimes, every now and again, Mycroft found himself worrying about what would happen when the King passed on. He seemed to be doing a good job of teaching his daughter how to behave, but there was always a chance that the lessons would not stick.

Of course, it would hopefully be a long time before Mycroft found himself sitting through a new coronation. He did not like to think that his friend would be leaving him any time soon.

"The loudest suit I have ever seen?"

Hm. It was an interesting question. Mycroft was not quite sure of the answer. He tended to stick to social circles in which people knew how to dress according to the standards he aligned to.

"Would it be cheating to answer with one of the outfits I have seen abroad? Some other countries - India, for example - are not opposed to wearing suits and similar items of clothing with far bolder colours than ours."

#governmentofficial #Main #Myc mentioned India XD and he's off

Albert was at least a little more in tune with the public than his brother and he believed. While he wouldn't deny he was of course separate from them and their every day lives, he did feel as if he was more attuned to how they would perceive things. Perhaps he would wear the loud suit as a subtle statement in a political meeting down the line. For now though, it would be tucked away until the Dunlas couple came for a visit.

Unaware of his friends concerns around what would happen when he passed, Albert put away the jacket and waistcoat and pulled out his usual black alternative as he sought some warmth beyond just his shirt. Pleased that Mycroft was considering his question on the loudest suit, entertained at the thought.

However his whole face lit up at the mention of India. Albert still so desperate to go and see the country made nearly every mention of a visit there thrilling to the King as he turned and smiled at Mycroft. "I bet it was also beautiful though, with wonderful materials?" He checked as he fixed his sleeves before doing up his jacket. He was jealous Mycroft had managed to go, still sad that such a visit would now never come to pass for him. He just had to live vicariously in such a trip through Mycroft.

"Did you try any of them on for yourself? Or see how they were made? I imagine they were done traditionally and that the practice continues like a tailors here." He realised his quick fire questions had started and gave an almost apologetic smile his way. He was keen to hear the answers though and waited for them to come.

The young King had a point and, perhaps surprisingly, Mycroft nodded to show it. He could accept the argument that he was not seen in public very often. There were reasons for that, of course, but perhaps a plan could be made to increase his appearances without risking anything else. After all, it was hardly like he was a child anymore, was it? The probability of the King doing something foolish or unpredictable had diminished greatly.

Then again, though, today's little adventure did rather say otherwise.

"There are a number of people who will have had suspicions but will had dismissed them due to the absurdity of seeing royalty unaccompanied on public transport," Mycroft did still point out. As sound as the King's argument was, he wanted him to be aware of every factor at play.

He had no other counterpoint to make, though - a display of how, on a basic level, at least, the other man had a point worth making. His opinion was important too, especially now he was old enough to theoretically possess common sense. Of course, Mycroft was not going to say that. If the King could not work out on his own what a lack of further response meant, then that was his own problem.

"Why do you want to go to Kew?" Mycroft instead asked. "Did you consider attempting to make an argument for an official visit?"

#governmentofficial #Puerregem

Albert prepared for more counterpoints to turn up, he had understood that no one would believe it was him in the first place, he had in part been counting on it for him to get as far as Kew. However aside from just a handful of double takes, there had not actually been a reaction from the public which he felt had proven his point in itself. So he was indeed pleasantly surprised when Mycroft did not have more to say on his very rash decision to 'escape' to Kew.

He was not going to push his luck, though the surprise was clear on his face as he seemed to hesitate and wait to make sure Mycroft was actually done criticising him. Instead he asked about Kew and for a moment Albert couldn't find his words. So, his motivations had the desired effect in the end? He folded up the paper, Mycroft seemed to not have more to say which unfortunately for him meant that the young King believed he had another man in his corner.

"Official visits do not --grant -time to actually enjoy what the -gardens have to offer," he pointed out. "If I -go anywhere officially I end up having my hand held by some m-manager of wherever and then -trailed around by those that want to be -spotted around me not for any interest in -speaking just wanting to be photographed so they can -pretend they are an associate." He let out a frustrated sigh, no point in hiding it from Mycroft, he would be able to tell he was stifling it otherwise. There were no example articles to show him in the paper either but he assumed Mycroft knew exactly the kind of person he was referring to.

"I wanted to -go so I might -quite literally get to -stop and smell the flowers," without commentary or being whisked around at break neck speed and miss most of what was actually there. "It is so -often like a -highlight reel otherwise." It was of course expected of him, he was the King, he had to do such things and fleeting visits. He'd seen much of the country and commonwealth like that, but at the same time he felt he'd seen none of it. "I -suppose it was a selfish choice to -pick -Kew," he admitted honestly, "While I did not intend for you -specifically -to be sent out after me, you -cannot --pretend that you would not have enjoyed such a -visit -too?"

Well yes, Mycroft supposed he would grow bored rather quickly if there were enough of him actually keep the world running smoothly. As much as he may occasionally grumble about the sheer size of his workload, it was undeniable that it kept him busy, and where would they be without that? It was a question he pondered semi regularly. Without his career distracting him at all times, would he become like Sherlock - destroying both himself and his surroundings in his quest for stimulation? Or would be he even worse?

To be quite honest, Mycroft had come to the conclusion that in a reality where his work was too easy, there was a good chance that he would end up using the shadows to create chaos elsewhere just so he had something to do once it spiralled out of control. If that were the case, they were very lucky that that was not the world they lived in.

"I don't have time to play nanny for errant politicians right now."

There was a harsh honesty to Mycroft's words, though it came from bluntness rather than cruelty. To put it quite simply, he had better, more pressing things to do. In fact, he had multiple better, more pressing things to do - and that list would likely only grow in size.

However, that being said, he did possess the common sense to quickly realise that whether he was to the King or a friend, it would not do to respond in such a way. He needed to give something. If he didn't he made himself seem abrasive, perhaps even spiteful.

"I'll have somebody from my department speak with them. The warning is lesser, but I've found the success rate is still suitably high. If the behaviour continues, then I can likely move it up my priority list."

If he could help it, he wasn't going to outright apologise for being curt, but his compromise was, in his own way, an apology in itself.

The curt response gave Albert pause and the surprise was quite clear on his face as he sat up just that little bit, straightening out and putting just a few inches of extra distance between them. It was an unconscious reaction, and coming from the King was easily recognisable as him preparing to make his own warning shot. Friend or not, that had felt unwarranted.

Mycroft seemed to realise on his own before Albert could properly respond and he instead offered a compromise. His surprise melted into worry instead. While the compromise was acceptable, though not really what he had thought his friend would say, there was clearly more going on than he knew about and Mycroft was evidently under some strain. Which begged the question why it was he the King didn't know about it.

"Thank you," he said for the alternative offer and form of apology he had come to recognise in his friend. "Is -everything alright? You -do not --quite seem yourself." He fussed as he studied him.

Albert was still sat upright, that small distance was still between them but the concern was clear enough on his expression. It wasn't wholly clear if he was looking at him as friend or King, though it could so easily have been both. Mycroft enjoyed a particularly special relationship after all and that could occasionally allow for curt reactions to his requests.

#Governmentoffical #Main

"-Just exactly what are you up -to?" - Dad Bertie

Rope Sentences

"Nothing!"

The boy's reply came too quickly for it to be true - and, even if that were not the case, the evidence was quite literally all over him. Though his father had not quite managed to catch him in the act, Mycroft had not quite yet had the time to brush the crumbs from the biscuits he had stolen off the front of his shirt.

Of course, he made a significant effort to display his absolute best look of innocence. He hadn't done anything too bad, no? The kitchens would miss the biscuits, and he had been sure to be sneaky! Nobody had seen him and, thankfully, Mycroft's father hadn't come out of nowhere until after the boy had finished scoffing his ill-gotten gains. He didn't think any harm had been done - not really, all things considered.

"What are you up to?" Mycroft made sure to then ask, hoping to move the topic away from his own activities.

#governmentofficial #adoption verse

Well that response was obvious enough that it wasn't at all the truth. Bertie repressed a smile as Mycroft turned with the biscuit crumbs still all over his face and down his clothes. He worried for a moment that he was going hungry as he had as a boy with Nanny Green but she was no longer around and he and Elizabeth usually tried to eat with the children when they could. So this had been an indulgence trip?

"-Checking on you," he said in answer to the deflection that came so quick on the heels of the poor answer. He didn't point out the crumbs for now but he was internally quite tickled with what he was seeing, thinking it was the sign of a happy little boy who had become so comfortable in the house that he would steal biscuits from palace kitchens.

"I -wondered if you might -have been -hungry? I thought I might -try and find some -cake." He said innocently enough as he looked over Mycroft, still sure to keep his amusement to a minimum but there was a smile on his face, he had after all just invited his son to an afternoon cake, had he not?

The response did, at least, do a little to relieve the tension Mycroft was displaying, though it was still present to some degree. A good drink would help to further reduce the lingering agitation, but he knew it wasn't the time to ask for such a thing. With the risk of renewed conflict still high, Mycroft knew better than to try his luck.

Mind you, that didn't mean he couldn't find a way to reduce the overall tension by encouraging the King to relax. Theoretically, that should be an easy enough task. It was obvious that the man was itching for a cigarette. Were he feeling more friendly, Mycroft wouldn't have hesitated to point out that he was more than welcome to light one up if it was going to ease the conversation. For now, though, he wanted to be petty for a moment - to leave the other man to sweat a little, and then suggest they both smoke later, as a peace offering of sorts.

"Nobody remembers those who preside over the quiet times," Mycroft pointed out, only after he was satisfied that the compliments he was being given had no ulterior motive. Well, no ulterior motive that he disliked, anyway. A little ego stroking in order to mend broken bridges was hardly the worst thing in the world, especially when he knew the words were not empty ones being said only with the aim of appeasing him.

"While I understand the sentiment, I suspect you would bemoan your legacy if you got your wish. The one about boring times, that is. I completely agree that it would be highly beneficial to have an army of myself running everything."

Oblivious to the petty scheme in Mycroft's head, Albert had resisted the call of a cigarette and instead took to swinging a pen from side to side in his fingers in the way of a distraction.

"No, but they -have a much nicer -time of it all." He mused back for the other monarchs from quieter times. He didn't much care about notoriety and he supposed that was in part to blame for his current mood and circumstances. If only other heads of state could do the same, that would be great.

He still managed a laugh at the comment on him agreeing that an army of Mycrofts running everything would be beneficial if very boring for himself. "I am -blessed enough -to have one," he encouraged gently and finally left the pen alone, setting it down into the stand with another short sigh. "Besides, I think an army of you would be bored -stiff after -twelve months, you would -have righted the -wrongs, ironed the -creases and then face the -dreaded realisation that there is nothing left -to do." Peace achieved or utter chaos, who knew?

"However if you would like -to divert your energy into -pushing those few -troublesome -politicians into line in the -meantime, -please feel free." He wasn't allowed to do it, at least not openly but Mycroft could smooth something like the current hiccup over with some choice words in the right ears, right?

In Mycroft's opinion, Lord and Lady Dunglass needed their eyes testing, and he gave a look in response that very much said that.

He could see that it was the King's own tartan - that was another reason why Mycroft had been sure not to be too scathing in his response. He didn't want his friend to feel insulted by any criticism of something personal, even if it was just a fabric design.

"It is not the loudest I have seen, but it is certainly louder than usual." Which was Mycroft's diplomatic way of saying that yes, in his opinion, it was a little too much. He was certain that other people would disagree, though. Fashion was like that, and Mycroft was aware that his own tastes could be rather strict when it came to how traditional they were.

"Do you like it?" He then asked. "If you like it, I think it is perfectly possible to pull it off. It is not so much that you cannot get away with it if you wear it with unashamed confidence. However, I will admit to hoping that you are not about to start a new fashion trend."

Albert observed the look from Mycroft and put two and two together. While the gift had been thoughtful it was unusual and perhaps something he should actively discourage in the future. His clothes after all were usually very carefully picked out for each and every occasion and with saint's days, history and commonwealth celebrations in mind.

"I think you are -right," Albert accepted with a short sigh as he looked down at the suit again, chuckling for the wish he was not about to try and start a new fashion trend. "No, I am -mindful of -how royal -fashion ends up in both -scrutiny and then on the -high street not -too long after." He peeled the jacket off at least so that the suit was not blaringly loud for his friend.

"I am -fond of the waistcoat," he commented as he took another brief look at it as he put the jacket back onto a hanger. "Though I think if I -should wear it out on a shoot I -would have a very -miserable day. If only something like this -could scare off -politicians and -courtiers." He laughed to himself, "but I shan't have it scaring off -friends." He reassured him, "-perhaps this one should be -saved strictly for -private luncheons with Lord and Lady -Dunglass."

Relieved to have an honest answer at least, Albert settled on the decision as he got to taking off the waist coat too, at least his shirt was plain white and inoffensive. "I am -curious about the loudest suit you -have seen though," he cast a curious glance Mycroft's way, "if you're about -to say it was -Happy the -Clown I won't be -too offended."

The man was a child. He was a boy with too much power and not enough wordly experience to see how petulant he was being. Perhaps that was the point, though. Mycroft was aware that the King craved more freedom. He wasn't going to get it, of course, but it did give him a good idea of what his argument was going to be.

Before he got into the car himself, Mycroft spent a moment talking to the driver, asking him to both send word that the King had been safely retrieved and, as promised, to take the long route back. Once that was done, he got into the back and, thankfully, managed to resist rolling his eyes at the sight of the other man perusing the newspaper as if he hadn't just caused citywide chaos.

"Well then," Mycroft said as the car started to move, "would you like to explain you aim today? I promise to reserve judgement until you have finished your thoughts."

That was a lie. Mycroft would be judging the King with every single word he said. However, what he would do is avoid displaying those thoughts. Once the explanation was complete, he would also attempt to be gentle in his response - or, at least, as gentle as he could be while still ensuring that his undoubtedly sensible counterargument was understood.

#governmentofficial #puerregem

The driver accepted Mycroft's instructions and closed the car door for Mycroft once he was inside. The divide between the front and the back went up and the pair had their privacy for the 'scenic' drive back to the Palace.

Albert still felt a little bitter at having being caught and he knew that he was trapped now that the car door was closed, Lord Holmes was beside him and the car was moving. As tempting as it might have been to cause an even bigger scene with a tuck and roll from the back seat, he did know that this time the battle was lost. He continued to scan the article quietly for a moment, not actually taking in any of the information while his mind ran away with how best to word his intentions.

"I wanted to -prove to you, Tommy and whoever else that I am -clearly not seen enough, nor am I -engaging enough with the -public. I managed -to leave the -Palace, walk through Hyde -Park and climb into the underground without anyone on the way recognising me." He looked to him seriously, "Do you not think there is -something very wrong in that? As a -King, in my own -country, even my -city, I was not recognised until I was already on the underground and nearly at -Kew?"

He let out a short breath with some exasperation, "I know that I am -to be -protected and my disappearance, death or whatever would be the beginning of a -constitutional disaster. However, I am less inclined to -believe that if I am not known. If my -face or -company is not only unacknowledged but -unrecognised then evidently I need -to be seen more and do more." It was clear it was something he believed in any case, there were not ticks nor tells of him fabricating the excuse on the spot. "I was intending to -get to -Kew because I wanted -to go," another line of honesty he did love the outdoors and plant life after all. "-Two birds and one stone that way."

strawberryswalker

Thaddeus nods his head slowly, he was a bit drunk though. England wasn’t what he was expecting, but to be honest, he had no expectations to begin with. He looks to the crystal whiskey glass in his hand and sips at the expensive whiskey. His brows furrow when he hears the other declare he was a prince. He’d been drinking with royalty?? The cowboy thought, pretty amazed. But he’s met plenty of interesting people in his life. Why couldn’t he add a prince to his list?

Thad was in a tuxedo, but his bow tie was undone, and he had unbuttoned the top button awhile ago. These honey toity clothes were tight on his body. He looks to the other and his eyes try and take him in. Seeing if though his own drunken haze if he could believe the other saying he was a prince.

He had only been at this party because he was lookin for someone. First time his bounty hunting skills had taken him overseas.

“Is it nice?…Bein’ a prince?” Thaddeus asks, and reaches into his inner breast pocket of his tuxedo and pulls out a premium pack of cigarette from America. He liked the collectible cards that came with the packs.

“I didn’t realize, I was drinking with royalty..Should I bow?”

He asks with a bit of a smile to the other, but his body was pretty comfortable where he was already. His accent was clearly..not English, and though Thad was dressed like a penguin, he was still a country boy from the hills of America, and was not versed in any sort of politics…His hand offers the pack of cigarette for the other wordlessly as he awaits his answer.

#strawberryswalker #Hi there! thanks for picking up the open :)#Dukedom

Frustration was part and parcel of his daily life, attending such parties was expected of him and he was quite often the stand in for his much more charming and apparently handsome older brother who had once again buggered off from the face of the Earth when he was supposed to be playing nice at such events. With his father ill, the duty had landed on his shoulders, as it always did when David went off.

Bertie was however surprised that anyone had even been listening to him in his moody rambling, he had rather hoped that he had slipped under the radar of anyone else around him or that they might be polite enough not to bring it up that he had indeed said that out loud. He was almost embarrassed as the other man spoke up. His accent intrigued him though, clearly he was from the United States which made him infinitely more interesting than anyone else there in the moment.

"Depends on your -definition of nice," he offered back carefully, trying to engage but without embarrassing himself further. "I am -paraded around like a -prize -poodle and then -put back in the -box until the next socialite -party rolls around." He didn't want to sound entitled but well, he was a prince, that was not something he would be able to pull off in complaining about it.

"Strictly -speaking, yes you should -bow, though I would -curse you if you did." He was sure to flash a small smile at him and reach for the offered cigarette, never one to turn it down. "Thank you," came politely afterwards while he regarded the other man curiously. "I'd rather like a -conversation without the -formality and I am afraid, -better or worse, you have -engaged me and the -burden of responsibility now -falls upon you." A tease which was indicated by the gentle and practiced chuckle that followed.

"Usually I -have someone whispering in my -ear who it is I am -talking to. It seems that responsibility in this instance -has actually fallen upon you." He gestured to him in the hopes he would introduce himself.

🎄 holiday traditions - Bertie - left overs on Christmas Day with no staff just the family

Sharing the Holiday Season Prompts

Though Mycroft had privately counted himself among the King's friends for years now, it was the first time he had been invited to spend Christmas with the man and his family, and he already got the feeling that the invitation would become a regular one.

While he had known what to expect before accepting the invite, he couldn't deny that the other man's traditions felt strange. A lack of staff was not unusual - even as a child, the Holmes family had operated on a minimalistic staff rota, owing more to a paranoia around privacy than anything else - but eating leftovers? Call him a snob, but Mycroft couldn't help but feel that was wrong somehow.

Despite his talents when it came to displaying whatever image of himself he wanted to portray, some kind of hesitancy must have shown in Mycroft's body language as he picked at his food. If that weren't the case, then the King wouldn't have been looking at him in the way he was.

"I am not used to this," Mycroft confessed to his friend, quietly enough to reduce the risk of being overheard. As strange as he found the situation, he was a guest and therefore he didn't want to appear rude in any way. In addition to that, it was all a little embarrassing. Mycroft felt like the odd one out!

"Your family do things rather differently to my own."

While he did usually hesitate in inviting anyone over for Christmas Day itself, it seemed that the King had worked out that it was the ideal situation in which to invite his friend over to celebrate with the family in which he would not be robbing Mycroft of the day itself. Although it was less of a celebration for them and one still steeped in duty with his speech due at 3pm that day and of course attending the church with the locals of Sandringham, it was still much closer than the family usually had the means to enjoy.

Albert had caught Mycroft picking awkwardly at his food and studied him with some concern in case he had felt he had an obligation to attend because of his rank. In some way it was a relief to hear that it was more because the celebrations were very different than he was used to and he couldn't hide the relief on his face for it.

"We -hear that -quite frequently," he chuckled warmly as he picked up his small glass of wine. "We have always -tried to -give the staff Christmas Day with their -families, and since I -believe we might find ourselves locked out of the -kitchen should we ever -try -cooking in there, we -have what's left." He gestured to the table, the haphazard buffet of the larger meal they had enjoyed the night before.

"What does your -family usually do?" He asked curiously, of course he had never actually been at any other table come Christmas, no one invited a member of the royal family to Christmas Dinner elsewhere, especially not the King, he was curious.

While he could understand why the King reacted as he did to Mycroft's touch, he was not about to let himself react to it. He was not the only one who could break the rules, and, to be frank, Mycroft felt that any outsider would agree that he was in the right to further reduce any chance of an escape attempt in the way he had.

He did, however, remove his hand in response to the King's promise that he would remain by his side. Still, he refused to apologise for the action. If necessary, he was willing to go further and actually grab the man. Obviously, Mycroft hoped it wouldn't come to that, but his priority was getting him back to the palace, not keeping him happy.

"I will be joining you," Mycroft confirmed. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but considering the traffic in the city, there was a non-zero probability of the other man simply getting out of the car and disappearing again. He could ask the driver to lock the doors, yes, but if the King was desperate enough, he could order them unlocked again and there was a rather large chance the driver would listen.

"If you would like, we could talk during the journey. You could attempt to explain your thought process in this whole matter. I am sure it would be fascinating to hear what your aims were."

That wasn't an entirely false statement either. Did Mycroft really want to talk about whatever insanity had been driving the decision to go out alone? No. However, he knew that if he understood it, it would be far easier to prevent a repeat performance.

And, speaking of the journey, Mycroft turned a corner to walk down a small side road, where the car was waiting for them. As he walked towards it, he assumed the King would recognise that it was the car they would be taking and therefore felt no need to comment on it.

#governmentofficial #puerregem

With the hand off of his shoulder, the King made no comment or gesture for it, passing it off as a momentary lapse in judgement. Really though he knew that Lord Holmes had good reason to try and keep him close by and he wondered if he should be touched or worried that he felt concerned enough to break protocol for his little escape attempt. He imagined once they were either in the car or truly alone, he would be getting a very angry earful out of the public view where there couldn't be a 'scene'.

"One's thoughts -are often misunderstood -by those not under the -same restrictions." He commented regally, or so he believed as they walked towards where he supposed the car was meant to be. "If you will -grant me the --patience of your ear without -dismissing it as a -moment of madness, then I shall --tell you all." Except the names of those who had helped him but given his close friendship with his equerry it really wasn't a hard guess who had a hand in his escape.

Sure enough the car came into view and Albert knew his day out was over. He was miserable for being caught before he could get to Kew but he supposed that there were worse ways for him to have been picked up. At least Tommy had not literally sent out the cavalry looking for him. Though perhaps he had? Albert had no idea seeing as horses would struggle on the underground.

He moved for the car which the driver was sure to get out and open the door for him, heaven forbid he do such a thing himself. And with that he stepped inside and sat himself down as if he was not in deep trouble and his pick up was perfectly planned and expected. Albert even got to taking off his gloves and picking up a newspaper from the pocket at the back of the chair while he waited for Mycroft to join him.

"Don't you like this --suit?" - Main verse Bertie

Jeeves and Wooster Sentences, Condensed

It wasn't a hideous suit. In fact, it wasn't even particularly bold or unusual, but Mycroft had always been sensitive to little changes, and the outfit was just difficult enough to trigger his sensibilities.

Were he speaking with anybody else, he wouldn't have reacted. Mycroft had a tremendously good impassive mask, but he was also legitimate friends with the King and therefore he felt at ease enough to display his thoughts to some degree. Even then, the sceptical look he had cast across the suit had been a subtle one. Without the close friendship they had developed, it seemed likely that it would have been missed entirely.

"It's different," Mycroft diplomatically stated. No, he supposed he didn't like it, but he was hardly going to say that, was he? Friends were honest with each other, but the outfit was not quite ugly enough to deserve that treatment.

"Was the look your idea, or did somebody suggest you try it?"

Hopefully the latter was the case. Mycroft didn't want to have to tell the King that he had bad taste.

The sceptical look had indeed been spotted by the king. Mycroft always seemed to be fashion conscious to the point where he matched his accessories to the room he knew he would be in the longest. Admittedly something that had taken Albert a long time to notice but once he had he couldn't stop seeing it.

His diplomatic answer earned a bust of laugher from him all the same and he smoothed down the lapel of his jacket. He had gone for tweed which was his 'homely' suit preference. It was not something that was going to be worn officially if that was any comfort to Mycroft. He had his uniforms for that.

"Lord and Lady Dunglass -gifted it," he clarified for him as he looked in the mirror at the suit again. It had been tailor made for him to start off the autumn shoots. "Do you feel it's -too loud?" He checked carefully, running his finger down a subtle but bright red line that made up part of the tartan weave.

He turned to look at Mycroft properly, opening his arms in a gesture for him to be honest with him about it before letting his hands clap to his sides. "It's my -tartan, I have a --kilt for it but a full suit seems -too much, right?"

"The benefit of being -King is that I don't have -to argue."

You're the Boss Sentences

While Mycroft and the King tended to agree on a great many things, they did have their disagreements from time to time. Really, this was a good thing. Considering the power dynamics at play, it was healthy for them to be able to speak their minds - and anyway, usually the disagreements were only over minor matters.

Sometimes, though, they found themselves clashing over things that were important. Often, Mycroft found himself backing down - or, at least, appearing to do so. Instead of needlessly fighting, he found it far easier to step back and get his own way by another approach.

Today, Mycroft was being stubborn instead. He knew he was right, so why shouldn't he say it? There was, however, one thing standing in his way:

"Are you pulling rank on me, sir?" Mycroft asked. If the King really wanted to do that, then he would listen to him, but it would surely leave a layer of frost over their friendship for some period of time.

Albert was equally quite a stubborn man, though he did have the sense to listen to his advisors of which Mycroft was of course his favourite. He was frustrated in having to argue his point and knew that he always had his wild card of being able to pull rank if it ever was something he truly wanted to happen.

He looked to Mycroft at his question and raised an eyebrow in some frustrated defiance. It lasted perhaps only a couple of seconds before he softened and sighed. "No, no I am -not." He relented, patting his pocket to go for a cigarette but resisting for Mycroft's sake, he knew he didn't like the smell of the tobacco sticking to him, he'd learned that at least. Though he was craving the relief he found in a cigarette all the same.

"I value your -opinion and I always will," he was sure to tell Mycroft with a short little gesture his way once he convinced himself not to start smoking. "I just thought I really -had it this -time. I would -have loved to have been a k-king in boring times, instead I -have -turbulence and nonsense all at once." Another frustrated noise escaped him as he shifted his jaw to one side in deep thought.

"What I would -give -to have a -court and -government of Mycrofts." He complimented in a friendly gesture to smooth over any potential annoyed feelings on him threatening not to listen to Mycroft's advice, but he knew he was right this time.

For the briefest of moments, the smallest hint of an amused smile appeared on Mycroft's lips, accompanied by a quick glance towards the other man. If it were spotted, it would confirm exactly who had sent Mycroft because yes, it had been quite the humbling moment. He wasn't about to confirm that, though. If he were to engage in friendly banter, it would negate the serious nature of the situation.

For Mycroft, it was at least satisfying to know that once he returned the King to the palace, he would face a scolding from other people too. It seemed unlikely to change his behaviour, but it should at least emphasis how there were consequences for his actions, even if they were relatively small in comparison to all the possibilities that could have occurred

"I do wish you wouldn't phrase it like that," Mycroft grumbled, avoiding the actual question he had been asked. "'Who sent you after me' makes me sound like my purpose is that of some kind of loyal hound." Which he supposed he was in some ways, but Mycroft was not in the mood to appreciate that.

Mercifully, the exit was not a long walk away, and it soon came into sight. Now they were nearing somewhere where it would be increasingly easy for the King to make a break for it should he wish to be foolish, Mycroft made the executive decision to reach out and place a gentle hand on the other man's shoulder to guide him in the right direction while simultaneously preventing him from running.

"The car shouldn't be far away. If you behave yourself and come along quietly, you may be able to convince me that I should request the driver takes the long way back. What do you say?"