The Art of Making Someone's Life More Difficult
Apparently this Alfred was a party person. Matthew guessed this from the fact that everyone kept giving him these very strange looks as he stayed seated at the table next to the person who had dragged him here, watching the other sip at another glass of sherry.
Finally though, after what seemed a period of time much longer than it must have been, the other man stopped glowering at him. His face turned a bit contemplative as he tapped a finger against his glass.
"I didn't think you would catch on so quickly," he said with a bit of amusement.
"Eh... what?" Matthew swallowed.
"Look," said the Englishman. Someone said it earlier, but he had been unable to hear it. "I am getting sick of hearing you complaining about this. Either you tell him, or I'm doing it for you. Either way, no more complaining out of you."
"But..."
"I'm about to kill myself if I have to hear another love sick gripe out of you."
"Oh." This Alfred was in love. Matthew suddenly knew trying to figure out who this Alfred was would be a mistake. If his father had taught him anything, it was that love was minefield. Matthew never wanted to tread it because he doubted he would survive the explosion as well as the Frenchman.
"Have it your way, Alfred."
"Wait!" Matthew exclaimed as the other man walked across the room. The man did not stop and Matthew was not certain what he should do next. He had the feeling that he had made someone's life much more difficult.
What am I supposed to do? What am I doing?
"Oh, it's you."
Matthew turned to see a coat. There was a man wearing it, but he had not been expecting the height of the other man and it took him a moment to adjust his eyes upwards to the face of the person addressing him.
He looked Russian. Russian and not very happy to see him.
"Erm..." he tried to think of something to say, either to break out of his farce or something that would not make someone think he was absolutely insane. Thankfully, as Matthew came up with a completely blank, the other continued to talk.
"I notice you chickened out," he gestured across the room. Matthew squinted. He could see the back of the Englishman's head, but could not see who the man must have been talking to. Whoever it was that Alfred had a crush on, he assumed.
"Heh, heh..." If this guy fell over he would flatten me, Matthew gulped, hoping that the flask the Russian was drinking from was the first drink he had had this evening. "Well... no one's perfect, eh?"
He was stared at. Matthew felt rather uncomfortable and hoped that the other would leave. "I never zought you vould say somezing like zat. You alright?"
"F-fine?" Matthew coughed. The other scowled.
"Of course," he rolled his eyes. "You just like making ozer people do vork for you."
"Hey," Matthew narrowed his eyes. "I don't see how any of this is your business."
In truth, it was neither of their businesses, but what could be done about it?
"In town like zis?" he snorted. "Vhere you stick your nose in everyzing? Nice try." He lifted the flask to his mouth and began to sip whatever alcohol that was likely contained. Like vodka.
Gods, he was being mistaken for a guy who appeared to be a complete jerk. Either that or everyone else in this town was the jerk and this Alfred was the most unfortunate person on the planet. Matthew was not certain which he would rather it be. Did he want to be mistaken for someone who no one liked, or would he rather everyone whom he had come across be impolite bastards?
"You don't have to be hypocritical about it, eh" Matthew exhaled, turning to look across the room again. The Russian stopped in mid-swallow, pulled the flask away from his mouth and stared at him for a few moments.
"I vhat?"
Matthew mentally hit his head on a mental table. "I mean... it's harder to take your advice seriously when you're doing the same thing you advise me against, right?"
The look on the Russian's face was absolutely priceless. Matthew looked away before he could be considered staring.
"Vhen did you become smart?"
"When the world became full of surprises," he smiled back at the other.
Time seemed to stop for a moment. Partly because Matthew felt as if his brain had exploded.
"'xcuse me," the other mumbled and walked off, leaving Matthew by himself.
Damn it, Matthew physically hit his head against the real table. He should just try to get someone to believe he was not Alfred. Before he screwed things up even more.
Notes:
Things are going to get a bit less funny and a bit more serious as the newcomers mess up the natural order of things. Hope that does not seriously disappoint anyone. I hope to still be a bit funny, but I have always been a bit more of a drama writer and here it comes. After all, we need our dose of big problems so as to have some important things to set rights to before the end.
