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"Do you live here alone?" Bradford asks. The house is dark and silent, and half the furniture is covered with dust sheets.
"Myself and a housekeeper. She comes in every day to sweep and press my shirts and keep an eye on me, really. I think she reports back to Tavia. She makes me breakfast every morning because no one thinks I can take care of myself." He rolls his eyes, amused at his family. Bradford grins at him. Pryce is many things, but as the youngest and most coddled of the Pryce children - by his sisters as well as his parents – self-sufficient he is not, and Bradford is surprised he only has a staff of one.
"Come into the study," Pryce says, heading towards the back of the house. Bradford follows.
The study is small and cozy and lined with books, except for a large desk against the wall that is covered with what looks like blueprints and small model planes.
"Top secret," Pryce says, winking.
The fire is dying in the fireplace and Pryce demonstrates exactly how self-sufficient he isn't by being unable to coax it into anything approaching warmth. Bradford is considering offering his services – he can't quite build a fire from scratch but he does know how to keep one going – when Pryce offers him the poker and asks him to deal with it.
While Bradford is encouraging the fire, Pryce pours them both a glass of brandy, and they sit in the two armchairs in front of the fireplace once there's actually a fire to enjoy.
( This is quite nice, Bradford comments. )
words: 2507
total words: 45,264
note: look, smut! i don't know what exactly passed for lube in london in 1916. also i have no idea how long it would have taken to cab from knightsbridge (centralish london) to hampstead (suburb). bradford is happy to take the bus but the tube is a bit beyond him, on account of he doesn't want to risk an attack of claustrophobia.
"Myself and a housekeeper. She comes in every day to sweep and press my shirts and keep an eye on me, really. I think she reports back to Tavia. She makes me breakfast every morning because no one thinks I can take care of myself." He rolls his eyes, amused at his family. Bradford grins at him. Pryce is many things, but as the youngest and most coddled of the Pryce children - by his sisters as well as his parents – self-sufficient he is not, and Bradford is surprised he only has a staff of one.
"Come into the study," Pryce says, heading towards the back of the house. Bradford follows.
The study is small and cozy and lined with books, except for a large desk against the wall that is covered with what looks like blueprints and small model planes.
"Top secret," Pryce says, winking.
The fire is dying in the fireplace and Pryce demonstrates exactly how self-sufficient he isn't by being unable to coax it into anything approaching warmth. Bradford is considering offering his services – he can't quite build a fire from scratch but he does know how to keep one going – when Pryce offers him the poker and asks him to deal with it.
While Bradford is encouraging the fire, Pryce pours them both a glass of brandy, and they sit in the two armchairs in front of the fireplace once there's actually a fire to enjoy.
( This is quite nice, Bradford comments. )
words: 2507
total words: 45,264
note: look, smut! i don't know what exactly passed for lube in london in 1916. also i have no idea how long it would have taken to cab from knightsbridge (centralish london) to hampstead (suburb). bradford is happy to take the bus but the tube is a bit beyond him, on account of he doesn't want to risk an attack of claustrophobia.
