Everyone fed, and drinks flowing as Tennyson wanted, he spent a while chatting to his various guests, before making his way through his students. There was one particular student here he was focused on. The scholarship Student President, Mateo Weston. The first scholarship recipient of Tennyson’s knowledge to be offered a place in the order, and the professor wanted to make sure he knew just how honoured he was to be here this evening. “Enjoying yourself, Mr. Weston?” He said, clicking his fingers at the waitstaff to bring him another scotch on the rocks, “I notice you don’t have a beverage in your hand. Do you not drink?”
{ @mateoweston }














