It remains as true now as it has each and every time that Felix has previously levied him with a stare or glare, the vast range between this look and the most iced and venomous. Really, this one's almost toasty in comparison to the worst of them, and the worst of them hadn't phased Claude, either. After all, this, too, keeps true: if looks could kill, he'd have rotted years before his grandfather had announced a surprise heir.
So he smiles in response, beatific in his immunity, watching as Felix actually takes up the violin. Though it only delays the inevitable, it's true that he's far more eager to hear Felix play than to make his own poor performance. Claude may be difficult, if not impossible, to embarrass, but if he works at something, he likes to have something to show for it.
If Felix wants him to insist badly to set this stage, Claude will oblige. Little as he, too, intends to share this with any other. ]
That's me, horribly insistent. I'm a very demanding and entitled kind of Duke, you know?
[ His grin sprawls, lazy and not remotely assertive, and when he raises his hand in a fist, it's more playful than adamant. ]
If not a very critical one. I hadn't been planning on critique, but I guess I'd better brace myself for your unforgiving tongue...
[Spoiler alert: it's not fine by him, not at all, because Felix, while prickly and pouty and acerbic in nearly every possible way on the outside, is actually rather sensitive at times, depending on where the critique is coming from. Not many people on that admittedly short list -- thank the goddess -- to possibly include one very demanding and entitled kind of Duke, and he's keen on keeping it that way.]
And just so you know: I won't play this again, so don't ask me.
[With that as his only warning, Felix picks up the bow and, after envisioning himself alone in his room at night as he often did while in practice, he begins to play.
The lullaby isn't a complex piece by any means, which makes all sorts of sense since it's an old song intended to help children relax and fall asleep. Felix had heard it plenty of times during his own childhood, so now it's just a matter of remembering to hit the right notes and not drag anything out too long, lest he wants things to take a melancholy turn.
Well, more melancholy than they already are.
The urge to speed things along and hurry through the entirety of the song is urgent but Felix likens it to swordsmanship practice: haste makes waste, best to just breathe easy and take it slowly, one step -- or note -- at a time; if you fumble, just continue on with the routine.
Felix doesn't fumble, although once or twice, his speed threatens to get ahead of him. He manages to reel it in, clenched chin digging into the cloth of the rest with mild frustration each time, and to his own immediate surprise, he gets through the entire lullaby without issue.
When he's done, he drops the bow onto the bed beside him.]
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no subject
;)It remains as true now as it has each and every time that Felix has previously levied him with a stare or glare, the vast range between this look and the most iced and venomous. Really, this one's almost toasty in comparison to the worst of them, and the worst of them hadn't phased Claude, either. After all, this, too, keeps true: if looks could kill, he'd have rotted years before his grandfather had announced a surprise heir.
So he smiles in response, beatific in his immunity, watching as Felix actually takes up the violin. Though it only delays the inevitable, it's true that he's far more eager to hear Felix play than to make his own poor performance. Claude may be difficult, if not impossible, to embarrass, but if he works at something, he likes to have something to show for it.
If Felix wants him to insist badly to set this stage, Claude will oblige. Little as he, too, intends to share this with any other. ]
That's me, horribly insistent. I'm a very demanding and entitled kind of Duke, you know?
[ His grin sprawls, lazy and not remotely assertive, and when he raises his hand in a fist, it's more playful than adamant. ]
If not a very critical one. I hadn't been planning on critique, but I guess I'd better brace myself for your unforgiving tongue...
no subject
[Spoiler alert: it's not fine by him, not at all, because Felix, while prickly and pouty and acerbic in nearly every possible way on the outside, is actually rather sensitive at times, depending on where the critique is coming from. Not many people on that admittedly short list -- thank the goddess -- to possibly include one very demanding and entitled kind of Duke, and he's keen on keeping it that way.]
And just so you know: I won't play this again, so don't ask me.
[With that as his only warning, Felix picks up the bow and, after envisioning himself alone in his room at night as he often did while in practice, he begins to play.
The lullaby isn't a complex piece by any means, which makes all sorts of sense since it's an old song intended to help children relax and fall asleep. Felix had heard it plenty of times during his own childhood, so now it's just a matter of remembering to hit the right notes and not drag anything out too long, lest he wants things to take a melancholy turn.
Well, more melancholy than they already are.
The urge to speed things along and hurry through the entirety of the song is urgent but Felix likens it to swordsmanship practice: haste makes waste, best to just breathe easy and take it slowly, one step -- or note -- at a time; if you fumble, just continue on with the routine.
Felix doesn't fumble, although once or twice, his speed threatens to get ahead of him. He manages to reel it in, clenched chin digging into the cloth of the rest with mild frustration each time, and to his own immediate surprise, he gets through the entire lullaby without issue.
When he's done, he drops the bow onto the bed beside him.]