“Put him in the longboat till he’s sober,” Prince slurs.
“Maybe we should do that to you,” Bobby suggests, turning their awkward threesome to approach the curb just as a coach arrives at the stop.
“Put him in the longboat till he’s sober, early in the morning!” Prince exclaims, loud enough for the whole street to hear.
Demeroven groans. Bobby digs in his pocket and fishes outa pound to pay the coachman, hoping it’ll cover any damage should Prince go the way Cunningham did.
“My apologies in advance,” Bobby says as he passes it to the driver.
The driver just shakes his head and pockets the money. “Where to?”
“Maddox and St.George,” Bobby says.
Demeroven hops up first and braces himself in the cabin to help pull Prince up.
Prince mumbles something incoherent and Demeroven snorts as Bobby pushes Prince up the steps. Demeroven gets him settled inside and Bobby vaults up unsteadily. Everything feels a little hazy, though that could just be the hour.
He hesitates, stooped in the door of the coach. Prince has sprawled out on the opposite bench, leaving Bobby no choice but to sit beside Demeroven. And Demeroven is seated ramrod straight, as far to his side as humanly possible. Excellent.
With a sigh, Bobby slides in, keeping as much distance from Demeroven as he can, and slams the door closed. Prince groans and just for that Bobby taps the ceiling hard enough it makes his own head hurt.
The carriage lurches off from the curb, throwing Bobby and Demeroven into each other. They scramble to separate, pointedly not looking at each other. Prince watches blankly and Bobby thanks God that he’s not sober.
“Catherine is so pretty,” Prince says.
Ah, more than preoccupied enough with his own love life, then.
“I look forward to meeting her tomorrow,” Demeroven says.
“She’s looking forward to meeting both of you. Told her loads about you.”
Bobby and Demeroven do exchange a glance then. “Oh?”
“How you’re both lovely chaps who need to get married,” Prince says merrily.
“Prince,” Bobby whines.
Prince rolls his eyes and looks to Demeroven. “When are you settling down with a nice girl, hmm?”
“Oh, I’m—I’m not even thinking about it,” Demeroven says.
“Well, that’s not good enough. It’s not something you do with your head, anyhow, is it?” Prince says brightly.
“Depends on which head we’re discussing,” Bobby mutters.
Demeroven snorts and Bobby can’t help but grin. Prince looks over at them, puzzled.
“Your heart!” he says dolefully.
“Right, right, the heart,” Bobby says, holding up his hands. “My apologies. Demeroven, what does your heart say?”
Demeroven groans. “That it’s been fed too many poems and sonnets, and had too much fish and chips, and now it burns.”
“My heart burns for Catherine,” Prince says.
“I’m sure it does,” Demeroven says primly. He then glances at Bobby and blushes, running a hand through his hair. “What do you think it’ll be like, marriage? I know you love her, but the marriage part’s a whole other thing.”
Oh, he’s clever. A bit of a treacly question, but Prince does like to pontificate when he’s drunk.
