One thing was for certain; Frey was never letting anyone borrow his clothes again.

"I don't know if I should ask for a very good explanation, or if I even want one at all," he said as Luna awkwardly placed his clothes on the table in front of him, right next to his afternoon cup of tea. To make matters worse somehow, she'd folded them into an impressively neat pile.

Luna cleared her throat, gathering up whatever scraps of charm she could before opening her mouth.

"I, uh... Acknowledge they're in a different... Condition than when I borrowed them." She fiddled with a bracelet around her wrist, gaze awkwardly wandering to look at the fountain further away in the sun bathed garden. "But I did bring them back, and I'm sure someone who's good at laundry can restore them."

Frey still stared at the pile of formerly stylish clothes.

"Luna, they're completely drenched in blood."

"I know."

"There's no trace left of their original colours. It's just dried blood."

"I know."

"And someone's supposed to restore them?"

"Maybe with some very strong soap." Luna turned back to him, raising a finger as if she'd had a brilliant idea, and Frey's eye twitched. Unfortunately for everyone around her, whatever mortifying occurrence had caused the wardrobe malfunction was not that hard to believe when it concerned Luna. Her knack of screwing things up was remarkable.

"I don't know how to put this nicely," he said, wishing he could in fact, not be nice at all. "But this is disgusting."

Luna stared at him for a bit, chewing on her lip in thought before opening her mouth again.

"If you're grossed out by the whole blood thing, you should know that it's just my blood. No one else's."

Frey's eyes shifted between the girl and the messy fabrics in disbelief. With the ridiculous amount, and the girl standing there energetic as ever, it was hard to believe. That did not change the fact that they were repulsive though, and for complicated reasons, Luna's blood was the last kind of blood he wanted near him.

"There's also your sickness," he therefore pointed out, causing Luna's shoulders to slouch. "Even if I wasn't thoroughly disgusted by this, why would I risk having the scent of your blood out in the open where it might as well attract the entire supernatural population of this town?"

"Oh!" Luna held up a finger again, and Frey was certain he'd want to slap her soon. "Werewolf trap!"

Frey was indeed right.

"Just get rid of them." He finally dismissed the clothes with a hand wave. "I'll have your father pay for new ones."

Luna's gaze rested on the clothes for a moment while she pursed her lips, then she released a sigh.

"That's fair, I guess."

At first, Frey wanted to be content with that and thus end the conversation, but in a way he'd brought the topic of interest on by himself.

"So... How did it go with your father?" He inspected his cuticles in an attempt to remain nonchalant. "Did you figure things out?"

Luna made a face and began fiddling with her bracelets as usual, and to Frey's great regret, she sat down on the other chair by the garden table.

"In a way, maybe. I guess I understand him a little better now." She looked down at her hands. "At least he's not keeping a bunch of secrets anymore."

Frey's body grew cold, and he slowly dug his nails into his palms.

"How nice."

Unfortunately, Luna's ditziness did not stop her from realising similarities, and it certainly never stopped her from speaking out of line.

"I, uh... Wish you'd gotten the chance to do the same with your father. I think—"

"Well, I didn't." Frey's nails had already pierced his skin. "Let's leave it at that."

Luna opened her mouth again, wrinkled eyebrows suggesting she was going to attempt some misguided, comforting words again, but Frey's subtle yet withering stare made her decide against it. He'd been kind enough to be happy for her, despite the despair and jealousy he'd had to swallow down for it to show, so the least she could do was leave poorly healed wounds alone.

"So, uh... Are you coming to the party next week?" Luna switched subjects, as a surprisingly clever twist for someone like her. "Been a while since I saw you at one."

"I'll show up, I suppose." Frey shrugged in nonchalance. "I cannot guarantee how long I will stay though."

Luna nodded slowly, but didn't look content with the answer.

"It's just that... Those gatherings are pretty boring without you around, you know?"

Frey sighed.

"If this is about your unfortunate fondness of me—"

"Who said anything about that!?" Luna raised her voice unnecessarily high to a squeaky point. "I'm not being fond of things, I'm just trying to get you to go because Father and Damien are worried about you!"

Frey stared at her flustered face, swallowing down curses and rude expressions.

"Worried?" He tried to laugh it off. "Why would they be worried about me?"

"Because you used to be so good at being social, and now no one ever sees you, and they said since your family's reputation is so bad as it is, the wallowing you're doing is making things worse."

Frey wasn't sure which direction to take. Keep up the charm and dismiss their worries as nonsense, or show his true feelings of utter, cold, disdain. The nerve. After everything he'd been through, they had the audacity to 'worry' that he was sabotaging his family's reputation by simply mourning for an extended, indefinite amount of time.

And yet, they were right.

It was hard to acknowledge, but Frey's successful career had taken a heavy blow by the incident a year prior. His family name was still dragged through the mud whenever people thought he couldn't hear them, and the whispers about his disfigured ear and scarred face were no secret to him either.

"Let me ask you this then, young Lady Hargreaves..." Frey's expression remained calm as Luna tensed up at the sudden switch from first name to title. "... If you had been in my position, would you have gone back to your everyday life after a year?"

"Yes," Luna said without a moment of thought. "I would at least get back to my studies and tasks as the town chief's daughter, even if I was still mourning."

Lies.

Luna didn't like studying, and the sudden, proper way she spoke implied the words coming out of her mouth was actually her father and Damien talking.

"That's strange," Frey retorted, going for the devastating blow. "Much like me, you don't have a lot of people to return to, do you?"

Luna winced accordingly, but her stubbornness persisted.

"I have friends."

"Barely."

"And you're one to talk?" Luna's cheeks were reddening, fighting the urge to yell at him like she would at most people who'd disrespect her like that. "Like you say, you don't have a lot of friends either."

"So why should I bother?" Frey raised an eyebrow. "Unlike you, I don't mind being alone. My reasons for being so nice to people are for the sake of my job, and since I'm not working I am in no hurry to return."

"That's not—" Luna fought for words. "I— I don't mind being alone either, but even if I did, I'm— I'm not alone, so... I think it's you who doesn't like being alone."

Frey's expression grew dark, and he didn't have the motivation to hide it. Why was he humouring her? She was just growing increasingly annoying, and had no pleasant topics to contribute.

"Oh, look, it's the stable boy." Luna pointed, a sigh of relief escaping her as she was able to escape the discomfort of Frey's stare.

Frey reluctantly turned his head to see the man in question walking past the house and towards the stables, seemingly noticing the two of them as well and waved cheerfully in their direction. Fortunately, he did not come over, and Frey turned away again so as not to dignify his greeting.

Luna, however, waved back.

"He's... Pretty handsome, isn't he?" she then asked, and Frey gave her a reproachful look.

"He's a servant, Luna."

"So?"

"We don't associate with servants."

Luna huffed.

"What does that matter?"

It was easy for her to say. She had no real responsibilities in her life. Her brother was to take over the role as town chief, and she had no interest in any professions. She'd just remain a privileged heiress, who in fairness had been promised to some up and coming banker's son, but it was against her will and he doubted she would use that role to her advantage.

Frey's gaze still lingered on the stable boy. As much as he hated it, she wasn't wrong. It had proven increasingly hard for Frey not to notice the man's appearance and while it was a regrettable thing, he all too often caught himself staring.

Thankfully, Damien showed up to help snap him out of the distraction.

"There you are, Luna." He paused as he noticed the gory mess of former clothes piled on the expensive garden table, but chose not to bring it up. "What, uh... Are you two talking about?"

"How pretty the stable boy is," Luna piped up before Frey could stop her, and Damien looked towards the stables as well, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows.

"He's too old for you, Luna."

"And a servant," Frey reminded her once again, looking at Damien to request backup.

"Not for me!" Luna threw her hand out towards Frey, almost slapping it against his face in the process. "For Frey!"

"Which makes it even worse." Frey pushed her hand away. "What possessed you to believe I'd be interested in someone like him?"

"Is it that ridiculous, Damien?" Luna insisted, turning to Damien as well for him to back her up.

Damien looked between the two of them with a displeased frown.

"While the opportunity has rarely happened before, I've felt it wise not to meddle in Frey's love life, and I'm not about to do it now." He ignored Frey's nod of approval. "But no, if I had to give my opinion I don't see him going for a stable boy."

Luna huffed again and crossed her arms, but she also fell into pleasant silence.

"I actually came here to tell you that your bodyguard is looking for you," Damien then said to Luna, who scrunched up her face. "You didn't run away from him again, did you?"

"You should be able to tell that I did." Luna averted her eyes. "If he didn't tell you already."

"My Lady!" As if summoned by the mention, Vincent appeared by the table as well. "Is it really too much to ask of you to just tell me where you're going?"

"You'd just follow me," Luna muttered without sparing him a glance.

"Good afternoon, Luna's bodyguard." Frey was beginning to accept that his moment of peace and quiet was over. "Had I known there would be so many here I would have made Hauke bring more tea."

Vincent looked down at the table, immediately spotting the pile of bloody clothes, and he sucked in a breath.

"Why!?" He snatched them up from the table and began to cover them up in the cloak he'd worn around his shoulders. "Of all things, why would you leave a pile of your blood outside on a table!? Do you want those horrible creatures to find you!?"

"I was returning them," Luna protested, and Frey shook his head.

"I don't want them."

"Now, Mr. Shen, I doubt any supernatural people would be close enough to pick up the scent," Damien tried. "Few of them venture near this place after all."

"Well why risk it?" Vincent gave Luna an accusatory look. While he wasn't allowed to actually yell or insult her, his expression said enough. "We're getting rid of these right now."

"That would be appreciated." Frey nodded, and while Luna scowled as Vincent half-helped, half-forced her out of the chair, she still followed along as he went to get rid of the disgraceful, former attire.

"Poor man," Damien said as they disappeared out of sight. "Precious as she is, I would not want to be in charge of keeping her out of trouble."

"In her defence I wouldn't want a person assigned to follow my every move either." Frey picked up his teacup only to remember it was empty. "Just having that valet—"

"Mr. Haddon."

"Just having that valet hovering over my shoulder every morning and evening is bad enough." Frey wrinkled his nose. "Imagine being stuck with someone like him every second of the day."

"Well, Vincent is necessary, whether she likes it or not." It was Damien's turn to sit down on the other chair. "At least when outside."

Frey grimaced as a reply, still pitying Luna but not having the energy to defend her right to freedom further. Instead he found his attention drawn towards the stable boy again, and he noticed a couple more people had gathered over by the stable entrance to talk to him.

"Do we... Have more new servants?" he asked, and Damien followed his gaze.

"No, I think those are just his friends. His workday is almost over, so they're probably waiting for him."

The conversation Frey and Luna had just had returned to Frey's mind, and an undesirable feeling of envy grew in him. He denied it though. What did he need friends for? He just needed people to like him for the sake of his job.

"I have some work to attend to later this evening," Damien said, reclaiming Frey's attention. "I know it may be pointless, but I thought I should at least ask if you would join me."

Frey sent the stable boy and his friends another, subtle look.

"Maybe I should," he mumbled. "I got nothing else in my life, so I might as well get back to work."

Damien pursed his lips.

"I sense I may have interrupted some kind of inner crisis."

"Just reminding myself of my life's purpose."

"It's a brief job down at the harbour, Frey." Damien shook his head before turning to leave. "It's not that deep."