"My job." And Silver, still feeling surprisingly light, gets back to work.
Silver finds he likes Benedict. More than he probably should, and in a way that's probably dangerous. It's also in a way that he can't stop, and even after talking with him for another 15 minutes at the door, unable to tear himself away from the conversation, he feels that same giddiness.
They do the same thing the next time he's slated for the week, and the same thing happens: he goes to leave and they talk for at least 20 minutes at the door before he pulls himself away. It feels natural, nice, even, and when it happens a third time in a row Silver is positively euphoric.
The Benbow knows. Jack Rackham doesn't look up from the gambling machine they have in the corner, saying a simple 'nice,' as Anne squints at him suspiciously by his side. Flint stops in at one point for a pint and Silver says hi to him briefly, which only grants him a knowing smile. Max has one of those for him, too, and it's actually Madi that casually asks.
"Boy or girl?"
Silver raises a brow.
"The person you can't stop smiling about."
And so it goes.
The Benbow's it's usual state on a Friday night: absolutely, completly jam packed. It doesn't hurt that there's a large party that have shown up completely unannounced. Billy doesn't even technically work the kitchen and he winds up hopping on to help Silver and the other kitchen staff, something Silver repays by giving him his tips. He's earning extra income courtesy of the Bridgertons', anyway.
When the kitchen closes, his helper even offers to shut it down properly, which means Silver can cram some food into his face and have his customary free drink before either hanging around Benbow (which he probably will) or heading home (which he will only if he gets laid.) The crowd in general causes the place to feel cramped but extremely lively, and Silver, his plate full of fish and chips, squirms his way in between two people into one of the only seats left at the bar.
"Bunch of artists," Charlotte says dreamily as she passes by with a tray full of drinks, and Silver followers her gaze and path to the crowd, a few fries in hand before he freezes and finds himself beaming.
no subject
Silver finds he likes Benedict. More than he probably should, and in a way that's probably dangerous. It's also in a way that he can't stop, and even after talking with him for another 15 minutes at the door, unable to tear himself away from the conversation, he feels that same giddiness.
They do the same thing the next time he's slated for the week, and the same thing happens: he goes to leave and they talk for at least 20 minutes at the door before he pulls himself away. It feels natural, nice, even, and when it happens a third time in a row Silver is positively euphoric.
The Benbow knows. Jack Rackham doesn't look up from the gambling machine they have in the corner, saying a simple 'nice,' as Anne squints at him suspiciously by his side. Flint stops in at one point for a pint and Silver says hi to him briefly, which only grants him a knowing smile. Max has one of those for him, too, and it's actually Madi that casually asks.
"Boy or girl?"
Silver raises a brow.
"The person you can't stop smiling about."
And so it goes.
The Benbow's it's usual state on a Friday night: absolutely, completly jam packed. It doesn't hurt that there's a large party that have shown up completely unannounced. Billy doesn't even technically work the kitchen and he winds up hopping on to help Silver and the other kitchen staff, something Silver repays by giving him his tips. He's earning extra income courtesy of the Bridgertons', anyway.
When the kitchen closes, his helper even offers to shut it down properly, which means Silver can cram some food into his face and have his customary free drink before either hanging around Benbow (which he probably will) or heading home (which he will only if he gets laid.) The crowd in general causes the place to feel cramped but extremely lively, and Silver, his plate full of fish and chips, squirms his way in between two people into one of the only seats left at the bar.
"Bunch of artists," Charlotte says dreamily as she passes by with a tray full of drinks, and Silver followers her gaze and path to the crowd, a few fries in hand before he freezes and finds himself beaming.
Holy shit. It's Benedict.