The young man seemed to glide across the room with the grace of a feather caught on the breeze. But this particular feather seemed to be that of a raven or a fallen angel, if the dark glint in this particular young man's eyes was anything to go by.
Butler smiled as he coolly observed his employer stride confidently across the hard wood floor, a deep sense pride swelling deep in his bear-like chest. At nineteen Artemis was still not exactly the perfect specimen of physical condition, a world away from his man-mountain of a bodyguard, but recently butler had been starting to notice the boys shape filling out. The long afternoons with the Fowl's personal trainer were definitely starting to have an effect. Butler had noticed the definite lines of new found muscle protrude, ever so slightly from Artemis' chest and arms as well as the boys healthier complexion and sudden growth in appetite.
The physical changes to Artemis were nothing in comparison to what had shifted under the skin.
The endless days spent seated behind a flickering monitor, deep in brooding thought, were long since past. Nowadays Artemis did most of his thinking in a large, squishy armchair he had had moved in to the middle of the sizeable grounds.
Any visitors to the fowl estate would of coarse question this curious sight upon their arrival, but rarely out loud. Catching a glimpse of the hulking Eurasian cracking his walnut sized knuckles was enough to remind anyone that they were a guest on the premises and could be 'politely asked to leave' at any time and that maybe they didn't really want to know about it anyway.
Artemis had changed.
In the seven years since he had first come in to contact with the fairy folk his whole outlook on life had seemed to shift.
Butler had no doubt that one of the reasons behind this didn't exactly have nothing to with a certain elfish captain.
Holly Short had gradually worked her way in to Artemis's, slowly expanding, heart and seemed to leave life in her wake.
The captains' professional, yet care free, ways not to mention effortlessly sculpted features had softened Artemis. And butler couldn't help but let a wry grin worm its way on to his face every time he caught a glimpse of the slightly soppy one that spread its way across Artemis' every time the elf dropped by the fowl estate on one of her frequent visits.
Her friendship had opened a door for Artemis. He wasn't exactly going to win the 'Mr. social of the year' award but little by little people around him were starting to view him with a complicated kind of respect.
This much was obvious as Artemis took his place behind the grand, gold plated podium; dozens of eyes followed him-the youngest being at least sixteen years older than he, but they all waited in respectful silence for the Irish youth to begin.
Of course the ledge in front of him usually used to hold ones speech or flashcards was left bare. Artemis had probably memorized what he was going to say, along with any counter arguments and quick witted retaliations long before the invitations for this formal dinner-discussion were even made. This side of the boy had not changed.