By Kismet

Hale Daugherty: To me, people were lowlife scumbags that could lie to you about anything. And the worst part is that they get away with it. Lying was as big as a crime as any but you don’t see people getting chased by men in blue now do you? I just wished we could all live peacefully and just bluntly tell the truth. Now, I'm not suggesting we make the world full of smiles and laughter, wherein the worst thing you can do wasnot shit enough rainbows, I'm not. Life would just be so much simpler if people just told you what they thought of you, what they really wanted to say, instead of digging for lies. I'm just sayin'.



"Allow me, your Highness." a man in a black suit said nervously, hurrying to get the door open fast enough. Pulling it ajar he swept his hand in a welcoming fashion towards the entrance, smiling a tight, edgy smile.

"Well, it is your job..." a young lad replied with a mocking tone, stepping over the threshold with his ginger coloured boots. He raked his portentous eyes over the intricate designs on the walls and scoffed inwardly. They seemed unnecessary to him because it wasn't like he was going to admire them, let alone see much of it; he'd just lock himself up in his room like he has done for the past year and a half.

His eyes roamed over the minor details of the foyer, his eyes rolling when he saw the chandelier dangling above his head, scattering flecks of rainbow light across the walls. When he had said inconspicuous, he didn't know it meant expensive things in small quantities. He sighed, knowing there was no way to change it now.

"Would you like a cup of tea, sir?" asked the same man in black, in his hand a steaming cup of fresh tea. He stood apprehensively to the right of the boy, the cup stretched out at arm's length. It was as though he feared it would get knocked over its porcelain bottom and smolder his very skin.

The man addressed took his time looking at his new home, his attention narrowing in on the frames lining the upper wall of the hallway. He didn't have to get closer to know that they were family pictures. Irritated that his butler took the liberty of putting up personal things that he clearly said were needless, he resorted to snapping immaturely at him, not sparing the old man the slightest.

"Certainly, after traveling through December nights, it would be possible perhaps that I might be in need of some warmth." Grabbing hold of the cup's ear, the young man took a sip of the sickly sweet liquid, letting it wash away the bitter taste left by his words. After drinking a generous amount of its contents, he held out the half cup and waited. It took the poor butler a second too long to realize what he was apparently expected of.

"Well?" he asked, cocking a dark eyebrow. "Aren't you going to relieve me of this burden, Thames?" The man named Thames nodded shakily as he grabbed hold of the cup. He briskly walked in the general direction of the kitchen and disposed of the cup there. Just as quickly, he returned to the foyer and stood before the young man. He was met with the same raised eyebrow and a small, irksome half smirk that was too subtle to be caught by ignorant eyes.

"My coat?" the boy hinted at, as though it were the most obnoxiously clear thing after the sky. He held out his arms as Thames striped him of his attire. When all the winter clothing (which consisted of the coat, a bright white scarf and a knitted hat) were now hanging on the gigantic coat rack next to the shoe closet, the boy sat down on one of the many leather couches that lined the inner space of what clearly was the living room. He stuck out his left shoe in front of him and once again, waited like before for something to happen.

The butler was prepared this time, somewhat. A second or two passed before he knelt down to his fragile knees and gently slipped off the shoe before taking off the other. He neatly placed them in their respectable places and hurriedly came back to stand at the foot of the leather couch, his arms crossed behind his back. The side of the younger man's face was covered by a cloak of curly brown hair which was impatiently swept behind his ear.

"So?"

"Your Highness?" asked the butler unsurely. He feared he had made another mistake; perhaps he forgot another unspoken rule of his. Time did not do Thames many favours and the days they were friends had long since departed. He was now left to stand on the sidelines and await the inevitable known as death. Life wasn't what it used to be, he thought forlornly, sighing inwardly.

"Agenda." he replied, a bored tone to his voice. The man knew he didn't really need to know any more what was in the agenda. He left that life and its troublesome customs when he decided to leave but he thought he could aggravate his butler for entertainment.

Thames rummaged through his many pockets before he found the little black book that carried a list of things to be done. He flipped through the pages with his forefinger, breathing steadily through his nose.

"Y-Yes, sir, we uh," he squinted in attempt to see what was written but even with the help of his eye-glass, he couldn't make anything out. He blinked to try and clear his vision but it was to no avail.

"What does it say, Thames?" the boy inquired as though he were the forty year old one in the room and the butler was merely a child; an incompetent half-wit.

"I'm afraid I can't see." he mumbled in a low voice. Three long seconds later, he uttered an embarrassed, "sir" pulling his eye-glass off. He tucked it into his inside pocket and awaited the dreadful words of his master.

"Very well." He simply said, not looking up to see Thames' face relax. He stuck out his hand and slowly, the booklet was placed in them. He scanned the scrawny writing that was splotched over the neatly lined paper and fortunately, made out the words. He snapped the book shut and all but threw it at the butler, who stumbled but caught it with one of his wrinkled hands.

Standing up to his five foot ten frame, the boy made his way to the end of the hallway, heading towards the innumerable set of stairs. He waited a couple of seconds to see if he was being followed and when he didn't hear the sound of his butler's footfalls, he sighed, faking exasperation.

"Oh, Thames?" he sang, hovering near the top of the staircase, his eyes set on the familiar black uniform. Soon enough it appeared as the butler rushed to his caller, poking his head around the corner to get a better view of the younger man.

"Yes, sir Daugherty?"

The boy grimaced at the name he couldn't do much about and tried, fruitlessly, to not let it get to him. He took a calming breath and clapped his hand once. The name's Hale, you old fool.

"Be sure to get this place cleaned up before my nap is complete, hmm?"

He all but ran to the master bedroom, his body wanting nothing more than to get under the covers.

"It would be my pleasure." replied the butler a second too late, a frown etched on his creamy peach colored face. He stroked his chin and amiably walked back to the foyer, checking his pockets before leaving in search of what he was asked for.

But of course, Mr. Daugherty heard him just as well as if he had been speaking directly into a microphone. He turned the knob and entered the bedroom, rolling his eyes before rubbing his aching forehead.



I told you people always lied.