Bertrand/Ernest + things you didn’t say at all
Ernest smiled, professional and pleasant, as he unlock the door to his office and pulled the door open. “After you,” he said politely to Bertrand.
“Thanks,” Bertrand said automatically, equally polite, his mind still on the image of the door of the one of the rooms they had passed on their way here - room 320 - as he remembered the conversation he and Kit had last week.
She threw a file onto the table, her eyes cool and her voice sharp, “Take a read at what your boyfriend had been up to lately.”
“E’s not my boyfriend,” he muttered, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he picked up the file from the table, but didn’t open it. He had a suspicion of what it might be about.
Sensing he was not going to open the file, she said, “There’s evidence he’s been helping covering up certain murders at the hotel. Including one earlier this month committed by a certain pair of people who I will not name here, a murder of one of the high level city government officials at room 320.”
She looked at him expectantly.
He didn’t know about this particular one, but he did have some vague suspicions after hearing some rumors going around about E doing things like this. He could probably investigate a little more and dig in deeper if he wanted to find out the truth, but he had always talked himself into not doing so.
It’s best, not to actually know of the truth, to not confirm any of his vague suspicions he didn’t want to confirm. Make things easier, avoid unnecessary confrontations, etc. He was a little annoyed at her for ruining it.
He pursed his lips, “And you want to recruit him onto our mission at the opera because you think he’s so good at cleaning up after?” He said, knowing full well this was not the reaction she wanted from him.
She glared at him. “You’re being impossible,” she snapped, and stood up abruptly and headed towards the kitchen. He didn’t stop her.
The conversation with Kit lingered on Bertrand’s mind as he and Ernest entered the office, and as the door closed behind them, he briefly considered asking Ernest about it.
“Coffee?” Ernest offered, taking two cups out of a cabinet in quick movements, and Bertrand found himself wondering about those quick movements Ernest seemed to be so good at, and how often were they ever used for more sinister purposes.
Ultimately, he didn’t ask. “That would be lovely, thanks,” he replied, ever so easily. Ernest pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his forehead, and for a moment Bertrand wondered if he should pulled away. Then he thought of how Kit had been secretly meeting up with Esme all over The City these past few months, and decided not to, and smiled at Ernest instead.
******************************
As he led Bertrand into the office, he recalled the conversation he heard between Bertrand and Dewey earlier, a conversation which Dewey was stating many of his opinions on the list of works of Guiseppe Verdi.
He thought about the rumor Georgina mentioned the last time she visited in The City, when she’d been three drinks in at the hotel bar. A rumor about a certain assassination to take place, she’d said. She didn’t say anything about who the target would be, but she did give away enough information about who seemed to be in on the mission.
Ernest had remained impassive as he memorized all the things she’d said, not showing any surprise. But he was surprised, at the implication of Bertrand might be one of the people assigned to this. Georgina had also mentioned another person who would be involved, and the description sounded suspiciously like Kit Snicket.
Snicket, he could believe. That woman was utterly unpredictable and ruthless, he felt. Dewey said he was biased when Ernest once voiced this comment, but he thought that Dewey was probably more biased than him. He didn’t know if he could imagine Bertrand partaking in a murder.
He wasn’t sure how much truth there was to Georgina’s words. Georgina herself was probably a little biased when it came to Bertrand too, come to think of it. So maybe the rumor was just a rumor and nothing real, that’s all.
A part of him wanted to ask as they walked into the office, but he ultimately didn’t. Instead, he smiled and offered Bertrand some coffee instead.
“That would be lovely, thanks,” Bertrand accepted, with his usual grace and politeness.
Ernest decided he didn’t need to know. At least not for now. He didn’t want to ruin what they had right now, even if they’re not exactly in a relationship or whatever, not officially, anyway.
He didn’t want to know, he decided.
He smiled and leant forwards to kiss Bertrand on the forehead.
