"I owe you an apology for humble clothes were all I could provide you with."
The Duke bowed his head for forgiveness — though he was seeking it within the wrong person.
Flushing red, Ori waved both her hands in strong denial of the Duke's proposition. "Oh no no, please! This is beautiful! Gorgeous even!" She exclaimed, eyes widened for extra-convincing-power and hands fisted with passion.
The dress snug to perfection on Ori's body, which Sirius dared to call humble, was anything but.
It was a soft satin and net gown, ashy in colour, with blue freesia flowers and its black leaves painted all over its elegant expanse. It had puffed sleeves, ending right above Ori's bandaged elbows, and a sweetheart neckline bodice that flowed into a skirt right under her bust.
Her hands were covered in satin gloves of blue, hiding her calloused palms from the Duke's eyes. Ori had never thought anything about her hands until one of the maids had held it and looked at Ori with overwhelming bouts of pity.
"Is everything okay, at home, Lady Gregory?" One of them had asked with wide eyes and pouted lips.
"Why yes, everything is spectacular! Why wouldn't it be?" Was Ori's natural reply, which only earned her more looks of pity.
Unbeknownst to the brunette, she was now the subject of speculative rumours of parental neglect and mistreatment.
A maid's filter could make you or break you.
Ori eyed the maids standing on the opposite end of the room, behind Sirius, before circling her mouth with her hands, "I have never worn something like this before."
The Duke showed no physical reaction to Ori's conviction, but his gaze lightened and the tension around his eyes diminished. His sight said that he was: almost humoured.
"Nonetheless, you are the daughter of a textile merchant."
Ori's lips upturned in a humourless smile as she leaned back onto the bed, settling all her weight on her hands.
"Exactly that. You don't apologise for not providing someone with something they have an abundance of. It makes the other person look shallow," Ori stated as plainly as she could, but unintentionally, her remark came off as dry and crass. It showed in the gasping fish-faces of the maids present in their vicinity.
Sirius' thick eyebrows rose with surprise.
"And you're anything but," was Sirius' charming reply.
Ori tsked internally because she considered herself to be a shallow and vain person who would fall for looks and pretences.
She found no faults in appreciating beauty.
"Shall we go down?" Ori evaded further conversation before the Duke could get too carried away with the roleplay of her fake identity. The last thing Ori wanted was to compensate for someone else's lies.
"My Lady?"
Sirius offered his hand.
The Duke had a contrasting demeanour to his appearance that was carried out by the light of his silver mullet, framing his face like a halo of glory, and the darkness in his unwavering amethyst eyes. There was a softness in his full lips which would seldom curl into a subtle smile and the sharpness in his dangling ear piercings. Small, dainty yet pointed like a spearhead.
He was clad in a tailored black frock coat with velvet lapels, fitted to the T, and paired with matching trousers snug on his legs. His waistcoat was a contrasting grey in color, with jewelled buttons distracting Ori from looking anywhere but ogle at him.
His shirt was a crisp white with a high collar and a black silk cravat tied around his neck. His black leather gloved hands were still held out whilst Ori admired the polish of his black leather boots. It was better than any magic polish she had seen in the marketplace.
Sirius cleared his throat to bring Ori back from her land of thoughts.
"How long do I have to stay, after breakfast?" Flustered, Ori questioned, pretending to think about something important rather than mentally drooling over the Duke's styling maid.
She was shallow like that.
"That depends on how you react," Sirius shrugged, wiggling his fingers to bring Ori's attention to them. His hand waiting, held out cold, for hers.
"Real detailed," the brunette scoffed, looking away from the Duke and out of the window.
Sirius held her chin between his gloved thumb and index finger, and turned her face to bring her eyes upon him again. He bent down to kneel in front of her, making Ori's breath hitch and face fluster in the process.
"Your curiosity shall last as long as you delay it," he whispered in her face, eyes searching for signs of regret. There weren't. Just hesitation in the way her gaze fluttered back and forth between his face and his hands. Hesitation in the way she bit down on her lower lip and shuffled her feet.
"Okay then, you do owe me many explanations," Ori huffed, giving in. She raised her own lace gloved hand and finally placed it in his.
The only man Ori had ever held hands with was her father and his hands were nothing short of stunning. They were rough and heavy with long calloused fingers perfect for sword handling. Ori was used to his big hands, enveloping hers, when he would teach her on how to properly swing a sword.
Her father's grip was always strong and determined. His grip always held a purpose: to make her own hands stronger and capable.
After gruelling hours of training, Ori and her father would beam proudly at their calloused palms and fingers. The only material result of their pleasure driven pursuits.
The father-daughter duo would make bets between them, over who'd ask mother-supreme for warm water. It helped their hands feel better after a good soak, but mother-supreme — who did not support Ori wielding a sword — would always throw a tantrum and be mad at her father.
Such were Ori's handholding memories; chaotic.
Though, as soon as Sirius' fingers wrapped around her small palm, thumb tracing over the satin for the minutest of a minute, she realised the difference between their worlds. His hands weren't calloused like all of Ori's family and he did not hold her to make her stronger, but instead, he took her hand to support her.
His hands were calm.
Reassuring.
And, impulsive.
For in a split second, they were sneaking around Ori's nape and the small of her back, with feather light touches, caught off-guard and in his arms, as he picked her up.
Ori sucked in a harsh breath, her curly brown hair swayed as Sirius circled a one-eighty on his heel. "I apologise, but we must make haste for explanations."
"Explanations...yes," Ori whispered, absolutely scarlet in the face as Sirius headed out of his bedchamber.
She tried hard to keep her body away from all involuntary touches with the Duke. No leaning of her head on his shoulder, no matter how tempting it seemed. No circling her hands around his neck, like those girls in picture books would.
Instead, she shrunk in his arms, taking as less space as she could; trying to be as less intrusive as she could.
"Your injuries will hurt if you keep tightening your muscles like that. You can relax, my touch only corrodes criminals."
"Really?!" Ori turned her head to look up at the Duke with wide blue eyes of curiosity.
Sirius chuckled and Ori could feel his chest vibrate so close to her.
"Yes. They beg for their lives, withering and whimpering, before they cease to have ever existed; because at the end of the day, aren't we all just metals?"
"I feel like you are fooling me," Ori whispered with her eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, as she sceptically eyed the Duke.
"Are we on joking terms already?"
Sirius lowered his gaze to look at Ori. He waited for her reply, expected a retort of humour or a jab at their past, but as always, Sirius' expectations of Ori were thrown out of the window.
For someone as expressive in her actions as Ori, Sirius found her words hard to comprehend. And words could change the dynamics of all relationships.
Just like how he chose to trust Ori because of her words.
And eyes.
But he doesn't like thinking about that.
"I think that, at the end of the day, we're all just humans no matter the blood flowing through our veins. I didn't think that you'd be a person who stereotyped people, but then again, I apologise for having drawn conclusions without knowing all about you. I think that erasing a person out of existence is just plain cruel and no man should —"
"It was a joke, my Lady," Sirius deadpanned.
Though, cutting her words was worth it. For all of her system collapsed momentarily as she stayed stiff in his arms. Eyes, nose and lips unmoving.
She really humoured him quite a lot.
"I-uh, I am sorry! It didn't quite, well, understand— or maybe I did? I don't know—"
"I prefer darker shades over lighter. I dislike open windows and doors. I prefer winter over summer. I dislike the rain with much passion. I prefer sour and spicy over sweets and drinks. I dislike alcohol. I—"
"What are you doing?"
"I am letting you know me so you wouldn't have to apologise for made up conclusions anymore."
Anymore.
Anymore meant there would be more.
More of them. More with time.