Night.
Downside Tavern, Critic Arley.
*******************
He couldn't breathe, he needed air and the whole of his mansion provided none, guilt, anxiety, and underlying anger ruled his blood and he couldn't lie next to Lydia like he was fine, so he took a hat and headed downstairs.
The grand double doors of the mansion swung open with a creak, revealing his tall figure as he strode out into the chilly night. The cold air bit at his skin, but Theodore barely noticed, his mind a tumultuous sea of emotions. His long golden locks, that was usually neatly tied back, now tumbled freely over his shoulders, it caught the pale moonlight sharpening all his edges. He pulled his hat low over his brow, partly to shield himself from the cold and partly to hide his eyes, that were suddenly burning with anger and stinging with unshed tears.
