Or a place that you'd rather be.

Larkin paused, his fork suspended in the air, mouth open to accept the sweet noodles twisted about the prongs, but his lips tightened shut, and his elbow went out to rest on the edge of the table. He motioned with his free hand for the servants who waited by the door to clean this mess that had been made. They hurried across to where Tic sat, and having been prepared for something like this to happen, they took the cloth from Tic and proceeded to clean it for him. Larkin did not move until they were completely finished and out of the way. Then he cleaned his fork and resumed eating.

Everyone else, a few moments after Larkin had returned to his plate, did so as well and pretended that nothing had happened. Their minds, though, were filled with the strangest of thoughts and suspicion. A mess like that could get you yelled at by Larkin, even if you were sitting in the guest’s chair. But no worse than a few harsh words. The table was a civilized place, and Larkin was a very civilized man. You couldn’t simply send someone out in the middle of a meal. He did try his best not to smile at the blushing Tic.

And a thought came to him… so unlike his mind to produce that he became motionless during its cruise. Does he think I am merely treating him this way because of what he knows? Would he hate me more than he might now when I extract it from him, tell him that I need it? I need it now, Tic. You have to tell me everything. Would he instantly know? But that’s not why I’m doing this. Why I am treating him so? He’s a peasant, a worker, a member of the Sink, a rebel; he’s not like me, he’s not of my kind. Does he hate me for all of this…? What am I to him? Would he leave if I let him…?

Blinking his eyes, out of his trance, Larkin looked down and placed his forked on his empty plate. It made a quiet clatter in the silence. He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands on his lap, and stared at the rest of the men at the table. There were no women there, as they tended not to carry moneymaking or government positions. But these people, casting glances to him when they were sure he was not looking their way, anticipated what Larkin was going to do next.

Like they do in any place with people in residence, rumors had already taken flight about this boy and that girl that had escaped. They knew Tic was of the Sink, but they didn’t know why he was being treated to their food and all of Larkin’s false kindness. Could it be that Larkin was unable to control the boy, and could only persuade him to give the information he needed with food and luxury? Maybe. Maybe he was smitten.

Undeniably odd, it was, how quickly and in time everyone seemed to finish their meals moments after Larkin had. It was the only time you were going to be waited on by the ruler, at the table, for you to be finished so he could leave. Still, there was no reason Larkin could not get agitated. He was not a patient man, many had already found out that were present. Tic seemed to pick up on the vibe, and reasoning that he may become sick if he ate too much anyway, he indicated that he, too, was finished and placed his silverware on the edge of his mostly empty dishes.

Larkin cleared his throat and stood, taking his napkin and placing it on the table. He turned towards Tic, and held his hand out.

“Finished?” he asked.