The Salle, Monday Morning

[bitchprince]

On Friday, Arthur had reached a decision. After the weekend, he wasn't in the best mood to follow through on it, but there were few reasons to let his mood interfere with what was, essentially, a duty of some kind.

The duty of survival. As Crown Prince, it was a real one.

Still, he thought, as he arrived in the salle, Dinah had best be grateful. And it was all tactics. His gut still twinged with the sting of clear betrayal, but his sense of morality was as confused on this subject as anything else ever was, and so he ignored it.

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[bitchprince]

He reminded himself that he'd made a choice here. And he probably owed it to her to put the details straight, aloud, but this was so much strange territory that he fell back on his father-given habit of showing these matters through actions rather than words.

"Then watch your feet," Arthur said, as he began.

She would not see his discomfort. He wouldn't let her. He just needed to be in control.

[blondecanary.livejournal.com]

Feet, arms, wrists, shoulders, concentrate, be inside your body, not inside your head, certainly not inside Arthur's head.

Because you can't thank someone for taking a risk for you if they don't tell you about it. So just do your best to follow along instead.

Actions speak louder.