Noel turned slowly as though his body understood the danger before his mind fully caught up.
Arthur stood there.
Noel forced a kind and polite smile, the kind he used when cornered by someone he couldn't openly offend.
"Good evening, Lord Arthur," he said with a smooth voice.
Arthur ignored the greeting completely.
He simply extended his arm, offering a fresh glass of champagne.
"Drink," he said. The word was quiet, almost gentle, but it carried weight.
Noel glanced at the glass, then back up at Arthur's face.
"I've already had quite a lot," he answered, keeping his tone reasonable. "I don't want any more."
Arthur tilted his head... slowly.
His voice dropped... low and cold enough that only Noel could feel the sharp edge beneath the calm surface.
"Do you dare refuse my kind gesture?"
The question hung between them like a drawn blade.
Noel swallowed once. His throat felt dry despite the champagne he'd already consumed.
