Only His

Proserpina

I watched Lucien as he prepared to leave. Frustration was writ large on his face as he was told by the pilot that they needed to wait a day; heavy snowfall in the area where he wished to go was preventing any kind of air traffic.

He thundered at the man but Beston stepped in quietly, his calm presence and sane voice saving the situation.

“Look, Boss,’ said the man, using his years of familiarity with Lucien to push his views forward,’ “Boss, flying into a blizzard is not going to help. It is dangerous.’

Lucien swore some more crude and violent abusive words that made me cringe. Beston glanced over his shoulder at me, almost apologetically. But both of us knew Lucien. When he was in a foul mood, the ugliest, filthiest words he used were shocking. But I was, sadly enough, actually getting used to it now.

Like a furious lion in a cage, he kept, pacing about restlessly and then stopped, his thick fingers raking his hair, scowling fiercely.

As always, he was well dressed and my