Lenalee hesitated in the doorway, "General Cross? There's a meeting going on, with the other generals, I mean—they sent me to come and get you." She peeked up from her feet, clear eyes flicking over the flamboyant man splayed out across his armchair, drinking wine and listening to opera.
She discreetly tucked away her tray of tea.
"Meetings," General Cross said airily, "Are for assistants."
"Oh," Lenalee said, helplessly. "Well. I think—it started like an hour ago, and everyone's waiting for you." She attempted to pin him with a reproving look. It didn't work in the slightest.
"My dear," Cross rose smoothly, scarlet hair slipping back over his shoulders, "Do you drink red or white?"
"I'm sixteen," Lenalee said, trying for composure.
"Champagne, then," he reached for a tall, thin glass, "Beautiful women must always drink champagne."
"General Cross," Lenalee said through her teeth, crossing the room to stand before him, hands on her hips and her face warm, "It's very kind of your to offer, but my brother would—"
"Come now, Lenalee," Cross purred, and rolled the glass's neck between his fingers, "Don't you trust me?"
Lenalee looked towards the ceiling pointedly.
"Such disdain," the general mused, with dry lament. He sipped leisurely, and the offering hand did not retreat. Lenalee reached for it hesitantly.
"Just one drink, and then you'll go to the meeting?" she pressed. Cross sped her back towards the window, his chuckle low.
"Excellent. One as exquisite as yourself ought to be entertaining company, not running petty errands." He wandered towards the phonograph, flipping the music. Lenalee crossed her ankles politely.
"I spend time with Allen," she ventured, and watched the general not-quite grimace.
"Not that brat," Cross waved her away, "I mean the company of men."
Lenalee sipped her drink quietly, and wondered what her brother would say about that.