niobebulstrodeâ:
ââDonât bloody stare at me like that, Macmillan.â
The other night at Bulstrode Park had been beyond embarrassing for Niobe. The light blue gown her mother had shoved her in, the pound of makeup, her grandmotherâs pearls⊠None of that was her. She had been told beforehand to behave herself for the Macmillans, as it would be the first time sheâd see Maxâs parents since their betrothal was announced. Betrothal⊠sheâd almost forgotten that the whole reason Max was into her was because he was going to marry her someday. And now, three days later, heâd somehow found her in her favorite bar, three drinks in and not nearly intoxicated enough to deal with whatever conversation had to happen now that he was there. She shrunk in her booth, sipping at the remnants of her firewhiskey.Â
@maximacmillanâ
Max was taken aback by her words. He hadnât realized he was staring, he was just... surprised to see her there. He didnât come here to find her, really, but part of him was a little glad he did. âSorry, didnât mean to.â He said, knowing well enough some of his friends would have said something more suggestive. Something like âHow am I staring at you?â with a little smirk or a wink. But that wasnât him, and he wasnât sure he was comfortable with that. But seeing her in her own clothes felt nice, much better than the last time he saw her. Still couldnât shake off the horrifying look she had during the dinner party, in the blue gown. He hated it, even if he tried to look pleased. It really was only for their parents to be proud, really. âDo you mind if I join?â












