Masked [BXB]

Chapter 4

It was much warmer inside the main room than Mr. Atticus's suffocative study. Many guests were there, masked and head-to-toe dressed formally with a tall skinny glass of dark wine in hand. Talking as if they were to be holding their voices down from a dimwit's party, what they would say to assume.

As Carter walked by, many of them noticed, turning their heads, their attention gazing right at him. Most were women which he attracted, giving the daring look to make a move at any second.

"Oh, Carter! Why don't you marry my daughter..."

"Atticus! Happy twenty-third birthday!..."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Carter! Hey, you should..."

He felt as if he be taken away from the party, waiting for a moment until the fake would step out. Taking turns. He is not patient in situations like these, tiring. And it is clear, his father wanted him to go through all of it as if it were to be a breeze, a dream.

All of it for one big dream to achieve and a really, a long, long wait. The fame he is receiving was not going to last long, better now than never as he plastered a fake smile on his face. It was necessary or else the smallest about him will spread.

One or two would have been fine but there was no telling in how it all will end out.

The silver mask he got from his father's room crushed under his hands, not enough to cause his whole hand shaking. How annoying it is to hear his name spoken more and more by strangers who knew nothing but wealth and business. Behaving as if it was a blessing once he turned to give them attention, it felt sickening. Even the sweet violin strumming from the head butler was not enough to soothe Carter's thinking.

He stood around the table. It did not look empty at all with the finest of food the servants had served out. New batches were made with steam rising up from the top as Carter himself successfully handled a mess. For the twenty-third time.

A middle-aged man came over, looming over the table. Carter was not interested in eating but kept on eyeing the man as he picked up a biscuit with his bare fat fingers to eat. The man did not at all come in contact with Carter, odd, but soon enough he did, something he did not hope. With a completely different greeting than others, he was used to after he finished.

"Where's your father, huh?" The 'huh' he said at the end was louder, rude. His forehead and cheeks were both red and of course, the glass of wine aside. A drunken man, the worst Carter could have run into.

"My father is in his office at the moment and busy." He cleared his throat, knowing he had no choice but to respond. The drunk was the type to not be taken lightly with his huge build and not surprisingly enough, the drunk laughed.

"I knew he was that kind of man. A chicken." He tilted his glass around, gazing the prune dark liquid travel with a smirk smeared across his face.

A rival of father's, no-maybe a worker of theirs, he thought and by instinct, he knew he ought to end the conversation as fast as he can. Although the drunk was not cooperating, eventually he was soaked with the leftover of his wine. It was not on purpose but the spotlight was turned to him.

Subordinates came to take the drunken man away, leaving him alone with his shirt soaked a dark liquid. Thankfully, he didn't alert many of the types that loved to help. For something he handled alone, he needed to take it.

Angry, with the drunk but he who knew nothing but to ramble his b***h-mouth about his own father.

Immediately he reached over in his pocket to pull out a handkerchief, but it was not there. Out of all times. He looked around for resources, settling for napkins at the end of the table but an individual, a dark haired, stopped him.

At first, Carter thought it would be another drunk, yet he didn't reek of wine. He was handing over his own striped handkerchief which Carter forced himself to accept. It wasn't dirty at all, coming from someone with dirty and unpolished shoes. Carter pressed down, using the handkerchief against his buttoned-up shirt, around the breast pocket and turned his back to face the man from earlier with a mask that only reminded him of someone else. A light baby blue color, with feathers around its side. It is Hannah's, but it could have been any other one that looked identical.

Just a glimpse, he caught a moment when the masked man is weird. Not silly but strange, weird and all the above. The man had only asked for the silver mask, for an acquaintance he would say then resorted back to silence.

If Hannah were to look at Carter now, just like a mother, she would yell at him before moving on. The liquid on his shirt inside felt sticky, like it got even worse but the color did change just slightly.

For a split second, all he needed to do was sneak away from the party to change to avoid his maid. To get through many people without letting them see the mess on his shirt would be easy, maybe flowers ought to do it. But for someone else's split second, they decided to place a hand on his shoulder to alert his attention.

Lukewarm.

Carter jolted as he turned around. It was the masked man once again, but up close. Something about his tone of voice was like a cold touch, one he never heard before and find intriguing. Yet what he said was completely out of the match with his expression, hiding behind the mask Carter couldn't see.

"You're being played."

Disturbed, Carter decided to laugh it off, his eyes glued on to the other male. Was someone playing a game with him? Every game had an end, but going through was going to feel like a breeze. Time would pass, but it could also feel like forever. The man's odd actions his facial expressions before could not tell him anything, anything at all. Could it have meant he was paranoid, and he knew something was wrong?

"What the bloody 'ell?"

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He Is Impatient.