"Tyrian, if I could introduce you to Nicolaus? Nicolaus, this is my son." Dante smiled sweetly, and Envy extended a hand to the handsome man beside her with an earnest smile.
"I'm pleased to meet you, sir. I've heard naught but praise for you." It's an outright lie, of course; Dante had said absolutely nothing about this stranger, simply told him to make himself presentable for her fiancée. Who was, as far as Envy could tell, nothing more than a pompous clothes-horse.
"Please, the pleasure is mine." He had to admit this Nicolaus had a lovely smile, although he inwardly scoffed at the clear emotions behind it. This man was easier to read than the Bible.
"Would you care for some tea, gentlemen?" Dante asks, and Envy nearly looks around for the other gentleman before catching himself. He watches them interact for a few moments, amused by the discussion of hired help and the lack thereof. The simple matter is that they couldn't have hired help; too many odd things happen in this house for a servant of any kind.
Once they were settled with their tea, Envy trying not to frown at the casual drape of Nicolaus' limbs on the settee, the dance of conversation began. Envy whined to himself - he had never liked this, never appreciated the supposed art behind it.
"I'm told you appreciate a fine piece of horseflesh, Tyrian?" The question was innocent enough, but Envy sent a sharp look at Dante.
"Ah, the truth is, I'm not much of a rider. I do my appreciating from the ground," he confided, not caring if it meshed with Dante's explanation. He hated horses.
"A man after my own heart." Nicolaus' smile was distracting, and Envy smiled a little awkwardly in return. "I prefer to own the race rather than ride in it, myself."
"You prefer to own everything," Dante teased with a soft touch on the man's arm, and Envy felt ill.
"Indeed, so I do!" Nicolaus chuckled. "Ah, that reminds me - I had nearly forgotten. Dante helped choose this for you, you know."
Envy stared at the small box the other man offered him. Dante coughed a little, pointedly, and he automatically reached out and accepted the thing.
"Since we are to be family," Nicolaus said casually, as if it were nothing, "I thought it would be a gesture of goodwill between the men of the house."
"And a splendid idea it is," Dante purred, arching an eyebrow at Envy's dark glare.
"Excuse me," he murmured thickly, "I seem to recall leaving the cellar open. We shouldn't want to let the rats in the house." He stood, box clenched tightly in one hand, and bowed properly before sweeping out of the room. In the hall, he yanked the tie from his hair and pulled his cravat loose before roughly shredding the delicate twine holding the box closed.
"Please forgive him," he could hear Dante murmuring, "He's been a slight cantankerous since his father…"
"Ah, not to worry. I'll talk to him later. It's perfectly understandable, with a new man taking the place he's accustomed to in the house…"
Envy started unblinkingly at the curl of straw-colored hair in the locket. His hands were trembling, he noted distantly. He wasn't sure if it was from what he held or from restraining the urge to kill the both of them, ignorant and sadistic alike.
"I won't be bribed," he growled softly. "Not by you, weak little thing. And I won't be threatened into submission."
Nicolaus would expect to see it again, though, and Dante would delight in having a frail, sickly son to coo over in public. Slowly he shifted the chain in his hands, finally lifting it above his head. It felt like a manacle around his neck.
"I won't…" he whispered, but he couldn't finish the sentence.