With his shoulders pressed to the wall, Crow slid down slightly to stay as invisible as he could in relation to the door. It was barely dawn, so he hoped that whoever had stopped by to speak with Penelope wasn’t planning to stay long. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be unrealistic for her to turn the unwelcomed guest away under the guise of being tired. Someone would have to be quite entitled to insist on coming in when it was earlier than most people woke up for the day. Feeling slightly reassured, he relaxed just enough to be startled when the knight greeted her father.

The viceroy brought a hand to his face. Of all the nobles who could have shown up that morning, it just had to be John Vermillion, didn’t it? He was mortified by the thought of facing the older man after he had made so much headway in trying to prove that he was responsible enough to court his daughter. While he didn’t think they had done anything wrong by sleeping with each other, he knew the knight would beg to differ. John was far more concerned about the “risk” than he was about how they wanted to express their affections toward each other. Of course, there was still a chance that the other man wouldn’t notice anything was amiss and leave, so he clung to the hope until he heard the words: [color=fdc68a][b]“He’s still here, isn’t he?”[/b][/color]

There was no way out of it now. Crow cringed as the sound of footsteps indicated that Penelope’s father was coming in whether she wanted him to or not. Slumping against the wall, he averted his gaze when the older knight stepped into his line of sight. Even though John already knew what they had been up to, he was certain his current appearance didn’t help anything. His dark hair was a tousled mess, he hadn’t had time to cover his bare chest, and the trousers he’d managed to throw on were wrinkled after spending the night at the foot of the bed. It wasn’t the most dignified he had ever looked in front of the man whose blessing he so desperately wanted to procure.

“Good morning, sir,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, venturing to meet John’s gaze with a sheepish expression. As expected, Penelope’s father didn’t look happy.

“Put your shirt on, Lockton,” the knight said brusquely.

Crow nodded and fumbled to slide the undershirt over his head before chasing it with the tunic. Like his trousers, the clothing on his upper body wasn’t in the best condition after being piled in a messy heap the night before. Once he was presentable, he stepped away from the wall and made his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, avoiding John’s eyes as he waited for the inevitable lecture to come.