Thomas Barrow wasn't one that really enjoyed people; more often than not, he considered each one to be a nuisance in their own way. He thought them foolish with how fickle they were, how emotional they became over simple matters. Thomas had been pleased to be given the option of accompanying the Crawley's on their trip to London; it was satisfactory to be allowed to get away from Mr. Carson and the other nit-wits downstairs. Even O'Brien he wouldn't really have missed; she was really only the best of a bad situation; someone he could smoke with, someone that would help him with his scheming; getting him what he wanted. But even she felt at time like a pest of sorts; an annoyance.

Thomas hadn't been interested in seeing the Duke; not until he first laid his blue eyes on the man. As he and the Crawley's greeted eachother, Thomas subtly observed him from head to foot; he moved only his eyes, keeping the rest of his body still. He listened to what was said, but wasn't entirely attentive, what with being preoccupied with the Duke's form. He had heard that his name was 'Philip', heard Lady Grantham say "How kind it was of you to invite us." Though that was all he managed to take in as he took in the sight of the Duke of Crowborough. He admired Philip's soft brown hair; imagined running his fingers through it. He had admired his smooth and pale skin, his fine complexion; thought of pressing his palm against the man's cheek. Other parts of his body, as well, which were hidden underneath his attire. He was drawn to the Duke's big and long-lashed brown eyes. His full red lips, which he thought of kissing; thought of wrapping around his hard member. So long it had been since Thomas had given or received physical and emotional pleasure and he yearned for it. Yearned to be loved and pleasured by such a handsome, and powerful, man.

As Thomas was observing him, the Duke suddenly looked his way. He had seen the way Thomas had eyed him and sensed lust and attraction coming from the man. He was no fool; he knew when he was being admired. It happened quite often. He watched as Thomas quickly looked away from him - what Philip thought to be under his belt - and instead began staring at a tree off in the distance, not meeting his or anyone else's gaze.

"And who is this?" the Duke had asked, standing before Thomas. He looked Thomas up and down, observing him as he had been observed. He found Thomas to be quite attractive, himself. His skin was pale, paler than even his own, and looked to be softer than silk. His eyes were a light blue, his lips were big and pink, his hair was as black as the sky on a moonless night, and perfectly in place. He imagined what the man would look like without his full morning livery. He presumed he would look quite nice; he was thin, there was no doubt, though he had some muscle as well. Masculine with a hint of femininity.

Thomas was stiff as a board as Mr. Crawley responded. Very respectful.

"That would be our footman, Thomas," he'd said, hands folded behind his back.

"A pleasure it is to meet you, Thomas," said the Duke, bowing his head once, a big smile on his face.

"You, as well, Your Grace," Thomas politely replied. Now this was a person he could become fond of; he was handsome, confident and respectful. 'Quite a pleasure indeed...' he thought, turning toward the wagon to retrieve the Crawley's belongings as they stepped toward the Duke's house. Thomas turned to look at the Duke once given the freedom; taking him in from the back. He had board shoulders, a thin waist, a round buttocks. Thomas swallowed, his mouth dry, then turned toward the cases as he took them down one by one.