[ the son of the family's head doesn't want to carry on the business. he has dreams, aspirations, and none of them involve crime. his father hopes he'll change his mind, though. credence will do what he's told either way - such is his lot in life - but that doesn't mean he's going to enjoy it. much like he doesn't enjoy having to have a bodyguard whenever he leaves his own home. he bucks against it every time, but it doesn't get him anywhere. mostly it just makes him take longer to get where he's going, bodyguard still in tow.
at least percival is attractive, he thinks - he's insisted on first-name familiarity from the start, stubborn and spoiled, but it goes both ways whereas most people wouldn't dare. he likes percival - of course he does - but the fact remains that he just wants to live his life like someone normal. normal in the face of being the tall, lanky son of a crime magnate. he does what he's supposed to; suits at events, a charming look, never besmirching the family name. it's so tiring and he would, at most points, love for it to end.
today he wants to go out. that's all he'd said. out. in reality he wants to go to a museum like everyone else, to not have his father buy out the entire building and post guards. he just wants to be a regular young man that doesn't have to worry about the day that an entire crime syndicate will answer to him. the mere thought of it is daunting and makes him feel nauseated.
anyway, about going out: the answer of course had been no unless he took percival with him, which had just put him in a sour mood and he'd stalked back to his room, sinking into a chair by the window and practically sulking. ] I'd be fine, you know. [ it's soft but pointed: he knows percival will be right there as always. ] Don't you get tired of being forced to follow some dumb asshole around? [ a beat. ] Be honest.
→ i know we're right
at least percival is attractive, he thinks - he's insisted on first-name familiarity from the start, stubborn and spoiled, but it goes both ways whereas most people wouldn't dare. he likes percival - of course he does - but the fact remains that he just wants to live his life like someone normal. normal in the face of being the tall, lanky son of a crime magnate. he does what he's supposed to; suits at events, a charming look, never besmirching the family name. it's so tiring and he would, at most points, love for it to end.
today he wants to go out. that's all he'd said. out. in reality he wants to go to a museum like everyone else, to not have his father buy out the entire building and post guards. he just wants to be a regular young man that doesn't have to worry about the day that an entire crime syndicate will answer to him. the mere thought of it is daunting and makes him feel nauseated.
anyway, about going out: the answer of course had been no unless he took percival with him, which had just put him in a sour mood and he'd stalked back to his room, sinking into a chair by the window and practically sulking. ] I'd be fine, you know. [ it's soft but pointed: he knows percival will be right there as always. ] Don't you get tired of being forced to follow some dumb asshole around? [ a beat. ] Be honest.