[Add one more tally to the count of people trying to kill him at parties, Constantin supposes— even if it's because of this horrid enchantment disguise, he's still on the floor covered in champagne and a few bits of broken glass. He's hauled back to his feet while Felix, ah, handles things, and he stands there with a guard menacingly in front of him to glare at the rest of the party while he... well.
Just stands there, mostly. There's a lot of just standing there with a bit of idly brushing tiny bits of glass off his ugly coat. He's not any worse for wear, no, but it's all he can do to simply nod at Felix and let himself be led out of the room. The nobles are already whispering, and sure to notice there are two dukes in here as they leave at roughly the same time, but whatever! Whatever.
If one of the dukes happens to turn to the other before the doors shut behind them and declare, with with renewed vigor, that his parties are terrible the same way being face down in a pool of one's own vomit is terrible, then Constantin is probably feeling a little better once he's away from the crowd. Don't worry too much about him.
By the time he and Felix can meet again, Constantin has certainly made his opinions on the whole affair abundantly clear. It's quiet in the duke's study save for the persistent scratching of a quill on paper; Constantin is disguise-free at last, leaning against the corner of the desk with his arms folded and a permanent scowl that he directs pointedly down at the duke whenever the man stops writing for more than a few seconds. Eventually he finishes this... task and hands Constantin the paper, which he skims—]
Your efforts?
[—and drops back down on the desk dismissively. He's mad! This sucked! But he's spent two days now thinking of ways to bring this duchy out of the gutter, starting with this task he's put Archimedes to in exchange for nearly being murdered in his home.
His expression softens when Felix enters, if only a little. He gestures at Archimedes.]
He's writing a speech for his lords to smooth over this annoying mess.
no subject
Just stands there, mostly. There's a lot of just standing there with a bit of idly brushing tiny bits of glass off his ugly coat. He's not any worse for wear, no, but it's all he can do to simply nod at Felix and let himself be led out of the room. The nobles are already whispering, and sure to notice there are two dukes in here as they leave at roughly the same time, but whatever! Whatever.
If one of the dukes happens to turn to the other before the doors shut behind them and declare, with with renewed vigor, that his parties are terrible the same way being face down in a pool of one's own vomit is terrible, then Constantin is probably feeling a little better once he's away from the crowd. Don't worry too much about him.
By the time he and Felix can meet again, Constantin has certainly made his opinions on the whole affair abundantly clear. It's quiet in the duke's study save for the persistent scratching of a quill on paper; Constantin is disguise-free at last, leaning against the corner of the desk with his arms folded and a permanent scowl that he directs pointedly down at the duke whenever the man stops writing for more than a few seconds. Eventually he finishes this... task and hands Constantin the paper, which he skims—]
Your efforts?
[—and drops back down on the desk dismissively. He's mad! This sucked! But he's spent two days now thinking of ways to bring this duchy out of the gutter, starting with this task he's put Archimedes to in exchange for nearly being murdered in his home.
His expression softens when Felix enters, if only a little. He gestures at Archimedes.]
He's writing a speech for his lords to smooth over this annoying mess.