By Kismet

Hale Daugherty: Being able to tell people what to do wasn't as great as you'd imagine. It was human nature to say things you don't mean sometimes but not to have people call you out on your shit or make you back up your talk was a lonesome lifestyle. Actually, it was my life. And I never really wanted it. I didn't want to be treated like gold; I wanted to be treated like a human for once.



Waking up to an empty mansion was a first for Hale. Although his lifestyle was lonesome according to him, he never had an hour to himself before. There were always people. Whether it was the bodyguards stationed at every post of the mansion, the maids working in the house or his personal butler, Thames; there were always people.

And not having that for once was daunting, though he would rather kill than admit to it.

"Hello?" he called out of habit, walking around upstairs. "Anyone home?"

He laughed to himself for a minute before walking down to the kitchen. He fetched himself a cup of milk and committed the next ten minutes finding any form of food to satisfy his hunger. He hadn't eaten for a day and a bit and the pain of his abdomen was spurting on a headache. It may seem bratty of him that he had no clue where any of the edibles were located or how to cook himself a decent meal, but when aforementioned people were there to do it for him, it wouldn't really seem necessary to learn to do it.

Furthermore, when they moved in, there wasn't really time to go grocery shopping (and by that, he meant time for Thames to go grocery shopping) and whatever things they brought along weren't in his area of expertise.

"I need to get myself a new maid." he said to himself, giving up his search. He weighted his options and realized rather shockingly, he had none. Calling up Thames wasn't optional because he had already fired him but it wasn't like he had a choice.

He didn't know any of the maid agency contact information and being royal (which meant unlimited wealth) it would be natural to assume he'd have loads of opportunities at his fingertips. But once again, when he had other people to do all that for him (the searching, the calling, the dialing) it wouldn't cross his mind to keep a mental note for situations like these.

"Ugh, stupid pride." he cursed, looking through his call log. If he couldn't fix himself breakfast, the world could bet their internal organs he did not know Thames number from the top of his head. Luckily though, the front door opened and like the morning before, in walked Thames himself.

"Sir." he greeted, and despite being in the presence of the very man that had fired him, a smile adorned his lips.

"Thames!" Hale exclaimed, surprised but grateful. "What are--" he caught himself midway and coughed. "What brings you here?" he said in a monotonic voice. Thames shook his head invisibly and tried not to smirk.

'I've come to get my things." he said with an inside-joke-like expression. "And perhaps see how my master is doing. Ex-master, pardon me."

"I'm doing....great. Your concerns aren't needed." Hale lied easily, his ego getting in the way of asking for help.

"Very well." he said in the same tone of voice and Hale couldn't help but think he was being mocked with his signature response being thrown at his own face. He followed Thames body with his eyes as he went upstairs and quickly gathering all that belong to his name. He fought with himself internally on how to approach the topic without making it seem like he was in need of assistance. Just as a solution had hit him, somewhat, Thames made his way back downstairs and stood timidly near the front door.

"I've got my things so I must be on my way..." He paused at the door, almost seemingly hearing the silent protest emitting off of his ex-master.

"I do believe I'll no longer need these." He said, turning around and walking to the diner table that was yet to be set up. He placed a collective amount of items on the table and with a tip of his imaginary hat, Thames gracefully left his home for the second time that week and like before, he didn't turn back.

Hale, curious, scanned the items and couldn't help but let a grin bloom on his cruel face. "Oh Thames," he muttered as he picked up a piece of paper, "How cunning of you to."

He grabbed hold of the phone hanging on the wall and dialed the number on the card, punching each number carefully. Hoping he could get a maid delivered within the hour, Hale waited through the many rings, getting impatient as they stubbornly went on. This hunger won't go away itself, he thought and fingered the other items on the table just as the line on the other end went through.

"Hello? Maid Agency, who am I speaking to?" A woman's voice said and he choked back a humorless snort. A handsomely, well-bred prince, he said in his head.

"Let's just say I'm someone in desperate need of some kind of service, ma'am." he said into the phone, choosing his words carefully, aiming to avoid the topic of his name and status. The lady was quiet for a second and he almost mistook the tap he heard for the line getting disconnected when he heard it again, followed by the clearing of a throat.

"Well, sir." she said, the sound of papers being flipped. "You're calling the right place. Our services are top par. We treat every customer like royalty." she declared and he found it amusing. If only she had known who she was talking to, he thought amusedly.

"I'm glad to hear that." he said somewhat truthfully. But it was like a broken record stuck on repeat. The royal blood running through his veins wasn't going to dry up and he was certain even death couldn't stop the flow of it.



I guess I'm always going to be gold.