The couch is a fabric the hue of buoyant sea waves and he sits there as prim as a gondola on a fine day at Venice. His arms mold into the plush surface of the pillows as he relaxes in the warmth from the back cushions.
Feliciano offers a content smile at the Brit, appreciative of his kindness. And his politeness in every heartwarming word and gesture is taken notice of, much reflecting in the happiness flowing through the Italian that has taken his gleeful form.
“Thank you! I’ll be sure to return the favour when you decide to visit too! I really like it here, there’s so much to explore but so little time.”
♚ // Something in Arthur seemed to reflect a maternal instinct when in company of another. Though denial were the first words he’d pose in opposition, his actions toward a guest never fell short of discreet. Eyeing the kettle for any signs of steam surfacing from the nozzle, he directed his hand toward the tea leaves he set over the strainer.
"If you would like, there is a delightful tour of our tower. The crown jewels are quite a popular sight amongst tourists.” He often visits himself, reminiscing the glory of his beloved Elizabeth: a time when he were much larger, once great. Admittedly, he knew his brash ways at the time were a reason many turned him away aside his reclusive youth; what can he say? He had a poor means of expressing himself.
A soft whistling prompts his attention back to the kettle; tea was done. Waltzing to prepare the tea as intended, aligning his arrangement on a platter, he took up some pastries as well; a good cup of tea was better complimented with an accompanied snack. A set of custard tarts being the selection of the day--after a particular argument with Francis during their last visitation, he decided to take a day off of the scones until he perfected mumsy’s recipe.
Approaching back to the den, the blond sets the platter down on the nearby coffee table. Curious limes set onto the Italian, hoping the addition of firewood did allay some of the chill he felt. “Say, how’s Germany doing?” He inquired, still never having heart to address this particular man by name--unfortunately, they weren’t as close as he’d thought they’d grow to be. Perhaps the mention would spark some elation in the latter, also.
“Big travels, I’ve heard. He’s such a productive fellow.”
