"So," Alfred says pleasantly, an easy grin on his face, "what kind of business brings you two here?"
Margaret and Edward are sitting side by side on a lover's couch, while Alfred sits comfortably in front of them, hands settled on the armrests and leg propped up on the other in a casual manner. "Oh," the businessman continues, "would you like something to drink? Whisky, scotch, wine…?"
"Some red wine would be lovely, thank you." Margaret answers with a closed-lip smile.
"Scotch. Smokey," is all that replies Edward.
Alfred smiles and turns to Toris, who has been standing behind him nervously all this time. Placing a hand on his arm fondly, Alfred says, "Two scotches, and one glass of red wine for the lady!"
As Alfred turns back to his guests once Toris leaves to grab their drinks, Margaret's sharp gaze turns to him knowingly.
"It seems you and your butler are very close, Mr. Jones." She crosses her legs neatly, folding her hands over them, all elegance in her movements.
"Aw, Toris? Yeah, I don't really think of him as my butler. We've known each other since we were kids, when his ma was working for my parents," Alfred replies without missing a beat, smile never wavering. "You could say we're best friends."
"A house servant and a corporate businessman, best friends?" Margaret simpers. "How unusual."
Toris comes back with everyone's drinks. As Margaret takes hers, raising it towards Toris in thanks, she turns to him. "You and Mr. Jones have quite a bit of history together, I've heard." She takes a sip of her wine, eyes looking up expectantly at the fidgeting man.
"A-ah, well, y-you see, yes, w – "
"Alright, enough chit-chat," Alfred interrupts forcefully with a wave of his hand, his smile slightly strained. "As I said before, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you two again?"
Margaret places her glass of wine of the coffee table before them. "My, you're right, Mr. Jones! We don't want to impose or waste your time; you probably have an important diner with a special someone tonight for Christmas Eve," she says, eyes flitting to Toris for a split second before they settle back onto Alfred. Next to her, Edward is casually swishing the glass of scotch in his hand, sipping from it once in a while. The cool and calculating way his eyes gaze at the American betrays his relaxed posture.
"So let's cut to the chase, shall we? After all, we've also got a diner tonight," the young woman adds, patting her husband's knee affectionately. Her warm smile curls into a wicked leer.