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Aaron, for once, was not a mess. 

Stars knew why. By all accounts he should have been; that “delicate balance of order and chaos” Malek had described had been on full display for nights leading up to this moment, and he’d spent the whole time thoroughly swept up in it. Varis had him working like a dog, doing everything from writing out bottle tags fifty-two times until they were perfect, to cleaning the dorm until his hands cracked, and of course, no small amount of heavy lifting. The importance of this soiree had been all but beaten into his head for a week, and he’d been told in no uncertain terms that his performance tonight was tantamount to a matter of life and death. On top of that, deliveries were late or incorrect, the tailor had screwed up his fitting, and he’d almost been witness to the world’s first ever instance of a vampiric aneurysm when a deliveryman nearly nicked one of Varis’ paintings on the way to reinstall Aaron’s bathroom door. What was a well-coordinated dance back at Noila Castle was a hurricane in the Sinnenodel dorm, and though he’d never admit it, it was clear that Varis was teetering on the razor’s edge of containing it. 

If anything, Varis was the eye of the storm. For all his tricks and mind games, the Count was an easy read when he was stressed, and the past few nights might as well have been a textbook demonstration. He checked off all the boxes; from simultaneously lamenting his lack of time and involving himself principally in every little task, to stinging Aaron’s ear with more insults than the mage could even remember, and of course, letting his perfectionism evolve from quirk to [i]obsession,[/i] he was more a wreck than Aaron had ever seen him. After everything else he’d plucked through with a fine toothed comb, Aaron didn’t even bother beating himself up over the tantrum Varis threw over his appearance; every fault he found was either imperceptible or nonexistent, and Aaron had long since accepted that it was best to just quietly comply and let Varis go through his motions. 

That wasn’t to say Aaron didn’t have his fair share of things to worry about. On the contrary; even beyond everything Varis had him doing, he had several of his own hurdles to jump. Notably, the piece he was set to perform at the party had been given to him [i]that evening[/i], and after a single nerve-wracking sight read in front of Varis, he’d only been given a scant hour between all their other preparations to get the piece ready to perform. 

As well, he’d been stretched especially thin as of late, and not just because of the party. Alongside the increased intensity of his physical training and the added pressure of [i]being Count Varis’ last line of defence against assassination,[/i] Malek had spent the month getting more and more creative with his little “awareness game”. He couldn’t be happy with [i]just[/i] interrupting Aaron’s sleep with that awful little alarm clock trick; no, he had to mix it up every time by spawning the damn thing into his dorm at different times of day, in increasingly tricky locations, and on shorter and shorter timers to boot. Aaron was so wired from the exercise that it took him ages to fall asleep when he went to bed, and even when he did finally succumb to exhaustion, every little noise would jolt him awake again. Oh, but worse than all of it were the nights Malek [i]didn’t[/i] send a clock. No, those nights the tension in his chest never got a chance to release, and he’d just drift anxiously in and out of half-sleep with no catharsis until 6pm rolled around and he was forced to face this rest of his night even more uneasy than he usually was. For a blessing, Malek had agreed to leave him be for the past few nights so he could finally get some rest in preparation for the party, but Aaron still had some impressive dark circles hiding under his concealer. 

Yet, despite it all, Aaron Starag was [i]not[/i] a mess. 

Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d spent the night eerily calm, taking his tasks as they came with no time wasted deliberating or agonizing over whether he’d manage to somehow fuck them up. He had a solid plan in his head to perform his cello piece (it involved a little bit of simplification, yes, but it ensured he wouldn’t make a mistake and no one who wasn’t intimately familiar with the piece would be able to tell the difference), the order of the night’s events were competing with some of his lines for the title of "most deeply tattooed into his brain", and above all, he was [i]focused.[/i] He wasn’t bothered by the new earring gripping his ear, the new ring in addition to his usual one, or even Varis’ incessant poking and prodding. He was so far beyond stressed that he’d moved into tranquility; there was so much to worry about that he didn’t even bother trying to run through it all. There was too much riding on this to melt into a trembling mess. He was calm and focused because there was simply no other option.

For once, Aaron Starag [i]knew what he was doing.[/i] 

So, when Varis finished his briefing, he simply bowed smoothly in acknowledgement, having nothing more to ask. It was too late now to be clearing up uncertainty, not that he could think of any. If he came across an issue, he’d just have to think on his feet. Otherwise, it was time to rely on his training (serving a party being some of the only worthwhile training the Noilas had given him, fortunately), get excited, and put on a good show. 
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