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palace_martonChristian gives a television interview.
~~~~~~
Christian checked his appearance in the full length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. Tie was straight, suit trousers buttoned and crease-free, in fact, all present and accounted for. He pulled a face at himself and poked his tongue out at his reflection.
“Now, that’s not very becoming.” The soft chuckle from behind him made him jump and he turned around to find his father leaning on the door frame, watching him. When he startled, Marton straightened up. “Sorry.” he said. “I thought you would have heard me.”
“I should have.” Christian pretended to grumble. “Losing my touch. Either that or this tie is cutting off the blood supply to my brain!” He looked at his father. “You look nice. Going somewhere?”
Marton shook his head, glancing down at his navy blue suit with a wrinkled nose. “Nope. Office for me today.” He returned the favor, casting a keen eye over Christian’s black suit. “You?”
“Television interview if you can believe it!” He headed over to his dresser and picked up his cards and wallet, sliding them into the inner pocket of the jacket. “The things I do for you . . .” he threw a cheeky look over his shoulder.
Marton grinned and folded his arms, resuming his casual leaning post. “If you’re going to be like that,” he said “then I won’t bother delivering the warning I came over here to give you.”
“Oh?” Christian ran a comb through his hair in a perfunctory fashion and raised his eyebrows at his father in the mirror.
“You’ve got a Council meeting this afternoon haven’t you?”
“Yeah.” Christian’s voice was wary. “Why?”
“Because I had one late yesterday.” Marton shrugged. “They’re making ‘marry’ noises.” he told him. “I pushed it off but I wouldn’t put it past them to run it by you.”
Christian snorted in mild disgust as he turned around to lean his back on the dresser. “Nor would I. Why are they so all-fired . . . Oh, never mind. They just are, aren’t they.” he shook his head.
“My fault probably.” Marton told him with a wry smile. “By default. Council as a body has never recovered from my being an only child. They want options, lots of options.”
Christian raised an eyebrow, his pose unconsciously mirroring his father’s. “I’m not a bloody rabbit!” he said. “And I won’t be made behave like one either.”
Marton cleared his throat. “Just so I know.” he said. “What are your feelings on the matter?”
“Dad? Are you blushing?”
“What? No! Course not.” Marton studied his shoes.
“You are!” Christian laughed. “Honestly, I don’t care.”
“Christian!” Marton admonished, but there was no heat in it. “You’re not helping. I meant, do you want to wait, do you want to fall in love, choose your own bride, let them do it, what?”
“Already in love.” Christian said it quietly as he was already thinking about the questions. He shrugged his shoulders. “Rather have you pick someone I guess. I’m not fussed about who.”
Marton looked up. “You’d take a political alliance?”
“Sure. No problem.” Christian told him. “I like women. I just tend to avoid them this close to home. Too many potential problems, you know? On a personal level, I’m happy with the way things stand. So if a marriage has to be made, even if it is to shut the old fuss-pots up,” he grinned suddenly “then I’ll be in it.”
His wristwatch buzzed and he pulled a face. “That’s me.”
Marton nodded and pushed away from the door. “I’ll think about it.” he said. “If they give you any grief today, throw ‘em back at me, okay?”
“Yep. Will do.” Christian patted his father’s shoulder as he passed. “I’m off to be a vid star. See you later.”
“Yep. Break a leg.” Marton chuckled and Christian pulled a face.
“Gee, thanks Dad.”
Continued here...
~~~~~~
Christian checked his appearance in the full length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. Tie was straight, suit trousers buttoned and crease-free, in fact, all present and accounted for. He pulled a face at himself and poked his tongue out at his reflection.
“Now, that’s not very becoming.” The soft chuckle from behind him made him jump and he turned around to find his father leaning on the door frame, watching him. When he startled, Marton straightened up. “Sorry.” he said. “I thought you would have heard me.”
“I should have.” Christian pretended to grumble. “Losing my touch. Either that or this tie is cutting off the blood supply to my brain!” He looked at his father. “You look nice. Going somewhere?”
Marton shook his head, glancing down at his navy blue suit with a wrinkled nose. “Nope. Office for me today.” He returned the favor, casting a keen eye over Christian’s black suit. “You?”
“Television interview if you can believe it!” He headed over to his dresser and picked up his cards and wallet, sliding them into the inner pocket of the jacket. “The things I do for you . . .” he threw a cheeky look over his shoulder.
Marton grinned and folded his arms, resuming his casual leaning post. “If you’re going to be like that,” he said “then I won’t bother delivering the warning I came over here to give you.”
“Oh?” Christian ran a comb through his hair in a perfunctory fashion and raised his eyebrows at his father in the mirror.
“You’ve got a Council meeting this afternoon haven’t you?”
“Yeah.” Christian’s voice was wary. “Why?”
“Because I had one late yesterday.” Marton shrugged. “They’re making ‘marry’ noises.” he told him. “I pushed it off but I wouldn’t put it past them to run it by you.”
Christian snorted in mild disgust as he turned around to lean his back on the dresser. “Nor would I. Why are they so all-fired . . . Oh, never mind. They just are, aren’t they.” he shook his head.
“My fault probably.” Marton told him with a wry smile. “By default. Council as a body has never recovered from my being an only child. They want options, lots of options.”
Christian raised an eyebrow, his pose unconsciously mirroring his father’s. “I’m not a bloody rabbit!” he said. “And I won’t be made behave like one either.”
Marton cleared his throat. “Just so I know.” he said. “What are your feelings on the matter?”
“Dad? Are you blushing?”
“What? No! Course not.” Marton studied his shoes.
“You are!” Christian laughed. “Honestly, I don’t care.”
“Christian!” Marton admonished, but there was no heat in it. “You’re not helping. I meant, do you want to wait, do you want to fall in love, choose your own bride, let them do it, what?”
“Already in love.” Christian said it quietly as he was already thinking about the questions. He shrugged his shoulders. “Rather have you pick someone I guess. I’m not fussed about who.”
Marton looked up. “You’d take a political alliance?”
“Sure. No problem.” Christian told him. “I like women. I just tend to avoid them this close to home. Too many potential problems, you know? On a personal level, I’m happy with the way things stand. So if a marriage has to be made, even if it is to shut the old fuss-pots up,” he grinned suddenly “then I’ll be in it.”
His wristwatch buzzed and he pulled a face. “That’s me.”
Marton nodded and pushed away from the door. “I’ll think about it.” he said. “If they give you any grief today, throw ‘em back at me, okay?”
“Yep. Will do.” Christian patted his father’s shoulder as he passed. “I’m off to be a vid star. See you later.”
“Yep. Break a leg.” Marton chuckled and Christian pulled a face.
“Gee, thanks Dad.”
Continued here...
