Chapter Text
“What does yearn within those orbs, Your Grace?” The servant helped the young man affix his dressings, while his eyes stared off towards the window.
“I could claim thy head for this mere inquiry.” He coldly replied, causing the servant to freeze in terror. Being new, the servant in waiting felt the weight of his words with horrifying intensity. Overstepping his curiosity, his hands began to shake, but were quickly cupped by the prince as he let out a small laugh, “But I jest! There is no need for alarm.”
The servant let out a small, quiet sigh of relief, still not finding the comment in good humor. To the prince, his heart was pure and he meant it in sincerity. In this time, however, the servant was right to feel fear in the idea that he had disrespected the Tucker bloodline. The prince could sense that he had overstepped in his own line of humor, finding it harder to play fun with the servants that often came and left. To be held in high regard amongst the kingdom in servidom was very rare. His smile had faded once more back to coldness, allowing the server to finish attending to his doublet. As the servant finished, he took his step back before bowing, rising back up to leave and bid the prince adieu.
“I do yearn to fulfill my duties with God, ‘tis what I lack, good sir—pray, what is thy name?” The prince looked towards the servant as he was preparing to leave the dressing chambers. He sheepishly turned back towards the prince, still keeping his eyes below towards the ground.
“Your Grace, I am called Tweek.” The servant responded, keeping his eyes down.
“Sir Tweek, that is what I crave. I thank thee for thy indulgence, truly.” The prince, Craig Tucker, responded with a smile. The servant gulped quietly, feeling slightly shocked at the kindness. His experience with other members of the royal family were, at the very least to say, terrifyingly rude.
“I-I am not deserving of the title of sir, my—I mean—Your Grace.” He shyly responded, a touch of nervousness seeping out in his voice.
“Nay. Thou art most worthy of the title, especially with thy kindness in turn. Few have taken the time to inquire of my interests. Marry, ‘tis a most welcome refresher, even from one who must bear the title of servitude.” Prince Craig said, taking a step forward to his servant, the smile still on his face. Upon noticing the redness of said servant’s—Tweek’s—face, he could not help but feel his own copying the expression. His messy blonde hair fell so graciously on his forehead and around his emaciated figure, all the while, he could spy the shining of emerald green. From where? “Pray, cast eyes upon me, good Sir Tweek.” Prince Craig ordered as conscientiously as possible, and Tweek immediately responded by lifting his head. The nervousness upon his face showed his uncomfortableness towards facing the prince head on. However, the prince took in what he had been trying to spot before, finding a glimpse of God in those eyes. A glimpse of an angel; a glimpse of something he failed to understand. He could only respond with a small sigh of relief, his face growing slightly redder while he admired the servant’s—to finally say it—beauty.
“Wilt thou be…attending us at table soon?” Prince Craig softly said, his smile had faded. Tweek had to contain himself, but began to feel his fear fading as he was allowed to stare into the Prince’s eyes as well. Dark oceans of blue rising and falling in those orbs, allowing the stars to shine through as well. The same thought rose in his mind as well; he must be seeing a glimpse of a higher being. It took him a second to respond, but with a gentle nod and a smile finally forming, he breathed the words.
“Aye, My—…Your Grace.”
“Thou may call me by that which thou were about to utter. I take no offense, as God Himself would deem it gracious. I am the King to be, thus I shall be…” Prince Craig responded, finding Tweek’s smile to be precious.
“My Grace?” Tweek straightened his posture, placing his hand on top of the other to gently hold them in front of his chest.
“Aye. I eagerly await thy presence at supper.” Prince Craig nodded, subconsciously straightening his own posture as well. Tweek took a small bow before allowing his eyes to settle on the ground once more, taking the sign that his approval to stare upon the future king was dismissed. He carefully turned himself around, opening the chamber’s door and making his leave.
Where had he been? Who did he belong to before? No—God would not be in favor of him belonging to someone. He is clearly one of his angels. Craig gently crossed his chest, taking the moment to pray. However he was feeling that this servant must be put away immediately for the duty that calls ahead.
“And for the sake of clear dealing, I do believe that meetings from time to time would be more to my liking henceforth. At least, of course, until the wedding vows be spoken.” The man at the end of the table, near the entrance to the hallway of the dining room, spoke to the other man sitting opposite him. The man was Arthur Stevens, the king of England. Opposite of him was Thomas Tucker, the king of Spain. The dinner was in honor of the arrangement of marriage between their two offspring: Craig Tucker and Bebe Stevens. While Craig remained the sole heir of the kingdom, he was still serving to marry a princess who he had only met once. The heir sat near the middle of the table, opposite of his fiancée. She occasionally would provide him small smiles of flirtation, but his strength to smile back was all in vain.
The heir did not have love for her, nor would he find himself catering no matter how hard he continued to try.
The dinner was going as planned with talks of attempts to keep the couple in close communication. Alongside that were arrangements to be made on terms of trade and land. Though this should be in Craig’s interest, his mind pitied him to allow him to remain bored. That was what he experienced so heavily: boredom. He would have to pray for forgiveness later on for his insolence, but his mind could not stray from the encounter he had earlier. When his servant finally entered the dining hall, he was carrying a carafe of coffee, a smaller carafe of milk, and a small bowl containing sugar cubes. His eyes immediately darted towards him before he remembered that his gestures were often monitored, so he quickly had to contain himself. He instead focused his eyes upon his plate, his face unfortunately growing red. Before he knew it, however, came the roar of broken pottery and glass shattering on the floor. His natural instinct was to look back up, seeing the horrified Tweek now quickly diving to the floor to pick up his mess, furiously apologizing, “My lords, I crave your indulgence! I shall set this to rights and return with more!”
A smack hit the back of Tweek’s head, coming from Queen Lauren. She had stood up to berate the servant, beginning to scold him, “Thou witless man! Does thou not know the cost to bring coffee beans into our realm?!”
Prince Craig stood up in immediate objection, “Good Mother Queen!” The room went silent, and everyone in attendance now stared at the Prince, including his mother. His objection had taken the focus off of Tweek, who had become so frightened that he could not take his eyes off of the wooden floor. Quickly thinking, the prince continued, “I pray thee, make not a spectacle before our honored guests! Grant me leave to chasten this varlet in good time.”
Thankfully, the kings responded in agreement with the prince, nodding their heads in approval. The queen huffed before straightening herself, returning to her seat. Tweek proceeded to quickly collect the mess, quietly cleaning as the meeting commenced. Craig continued to stare down the servant, which most at the table interpreted as disgust. However, he could not keep his eyes off of him, finding disgust within himself. He had found a selfish excuse to be alone with the servant, against God’s wishes, certainly. He was staring pitifully, but more importantly…
Lovingly.
The servant finished cleaning before making his way back to the kitchen to prepare another round of coffee with new dishes. He carefully placed the tray onto the table in front of the Prince, making sure not to make the same mistake as last time. The Prince subtly looked up at the servant, darting his eyes to the side. They locked eyes for only a second, but it was enough to exchange an understanding for their meeting.
—
The servant continued to shake as he was led by the prince’s guards towards the chambers where most suffered. The prince led the pack, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Each step that Tweek took was shortly followed by the cries of others who had been foolish enough to cross the royal family in some sort of way. They walked down a narrow hallway towards one of the free cells, while Tweek continued to keep his head down to avoid having to imagine what could happen to him. Cluttering the cells, even though he knew that these were once people, were bodies that were already beginning to rot from the outside. Some were not even dead, and yet, they screamed through smells of decay. It was better to not know at all what could happen in only a few minutes. How unlucky the boy was that he worked his way to be able to serve the royal family only to meet such a grizzly end.
Tweek was part of the Tweak bloodline, a family that were on the higher chains of peasantry. His father, Richard Tweak, worked as another servant to the family. He had made his way up to being in charge of unloading shipments of coffee beans from the harbor, and would often be granted small portions alongside gold as payment. Richard had taught Tweek how to make the coffee, and Tweek took up the mantle quite excitedly. His efforts at making such good coffee led him to servitude in the end, and at twenty-two years of age, he began serving the family under Prince Craig specifically. Before this, he had had run-ins with the family, though very brief and out of their duty to the public. King Thomas would come out to bless the peasants and poor slums of the kingdom, providing small bits of gold and bread alongside. One time, he came out with the prince, only around the age of nine. Tweek and Craig were both the same age, which Tweek always considered a blessing, though he was unsure why specifically. When the King and Prince made their way down the line, and finally made their way towards the Tweaks, Richard kindly held his head down as the king recited his blessing, to which Tweek also followed suit.
Placing a hand above the man’s bowed head, he repeated, “Blessed be ye poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.” Richard only lifted his head when the King produced a small gold piece, dropping it into his hand. Thomas looked down at the prince, who was already staring at the young Tweek who still had his head bowed, “Bless him as well, young prince.”
Craig nodded, placing his hand above Tweek’s bowed head, “Blessed be ye poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.” He was also handed a small piece of gold, and both the Tweaks replied with small amens and thanks. Upon lifting his head, he caught the prince continuing to stare down at him, smiling upon seeing his green, emerald eyes. Tweek quickly grew anxious, putting his head down once more and waiting to avoid the prince’s gaze. Every month the king would do so, and only once a year would the prince come along. That is why after that first time that Tweek came along with his father, he would continue to join him in hopes to catch the next time that the prince would be able to bless him once more. For nearly thirteen years, he was blessed by the King and the Prince nearly every month. Each time he had the fortune of looking at the prince, he felt his heart fill with unimaginable joy, alongside dread. For men of his stature could never look at another man in favor, let alone, a prince.
“Donovan; Black; turn your backs and stand your guard.” The prince said as they stepped inside the cell, shutting it close behind him. His two guards immediately did as he said, holding their sharpened staffs close to their side and staying still. Tweek felt like a dried leaf in the fall, ready to be crunched and broken to pieces by the foot of someone above him. He only stood as shaky as it would be in the wind, already knowing its death had come along. He could not look up at the prince, but he did not need to do so on his own, as he soon lifted his chin with his forefinger to stare at his eyes once more. “I never did know thy name, yet, do not think I hold thee not in remembrance.”
“M-My Grace?” Tweek stuttered, his eyes widening and staring in disbelief. Was this some sort of cruel joke before he would suffer for his insolence? Albeit, he was very grateful that it would be him to end his life as opposed to his father, the King.
“Thy father has served this house these many years, and his before him. Thy kin has shown much courtesy unto mine own, and I would like to give thee thanks.” Craig responded, showing his smile once more before relinquishing his finger from his chin.
“N-None is needed!” Tweek quickly replied before putting his head down once more.
“Look unto me, ‘tis my command.” Craig responded sternly, in a deeper tone, his smile fading. Tweek felt a chill run down his spine, immediately looking back up into his eyes. A half-smile appeared back on Craig’s face, releasing a small chuckle before continuing, “I have bestowed blessings upon thee for our entire lives. I knew thy looks, in fact, I did expect to see it amongst the common folk. Thou art granted to speak with me, Tweek.”
“Verily, I have yearned for thy blessing, each year that does pass. I did entreat for it, as ‘tis the sole thing that has brought me fortune to be in the estate that I am in now.” Tweek responded, not within a soft tone, but loud enough over the cries.
“I perceive…thou does understand that thou art already blessed by more than I could ever grant. Does thou know the saying of Psalm twenty and three, verse two?” He asked. Tweek felt slightly tested, but digging deep within his mind, he pulled out the quote to speak to him.
“‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.” Tweek replied.
“Thine eyes must be those pastures, whilst mine…can be the waters still. God has blessed us both, indeed.” Craig spoke a little softer than Tweek, and his words caused Tweek’s cheeks to grow a crimson red.
“Thy Grace, that art so fair.” Tweek responded in the same tone, his pupils dilating at the sight of his closeness. How beautiful he truly was, and how romantic he was towards a lowly peasant.
“Yea, even with that, I offer thee a blessing down the path. Yet must I…” Craig trailed off, sighing as he turned away from Tweek. He took several steps back towards the entrance to the cell, turning back towards Tweek, but tilting his head to whisper something to one of the guards. Tweek watched as the guard nodded, reaching down to brandish a cat o’ nine tails. He handed it off to Craig, who shakily took it before looking back at Tweek. “I am bound…”
“I know it.” Tweek began to anxiously shake again, sighing before beginning to lift his tunic, turning around for his bare back to face Craig. He bit his lip as he awaited the agonizing pain, but what came was only silence.
“I deem I cannot proceed with this matter.” Craig furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms and shakily sighing.
“Would thou have me proceed, Your Grace?” One of the guards responded, turning his head to face him. Craig quickly shook his head.
“Nay, thou wouldst wound him too heavily. I desire he not be dealt with harshly.” Craig responded quickly, waving Donovan off. Tweek only listened, waiting for his punishment, but gathering the sense that the prince did not enjoy the prospect of this. From his lips spoke something that he doubted anyone would have suggested to a member of royalty.
“May I then, My Grace?” He softly spoke, loud enough to hear, and took the opportunity to fully relinquish his tunic. He turned around, while Craig could only stare at his slim figure. How it pained him, the thought alone, of hurting that tender skin. However, he knew that this needed to be done, not out of principle, but out of necessity. If his father were to learn that he did not properly punish the servant for what he had done, then he would have to resort to doing it from now then. Without thinking too heavily, he handed the whip to Tweek, who shakily took it. Tweek knew that the pain that he would be putting himself through would be extensive, which is exactly what it needed to be. He could not let Craig look soft, and he dreaded the thought of him being punished. His own safety suddenly left his mind as he looked upon His Grace, only wishing to be within his good graces for the rest of eternity. With that, he gently lifted the whip before harshly flinging it towards his own back, letting out a yelp of pain. Craig winced before turning his head, and Tweek cried out as he whipped his own back again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
And again.
—-
“For when he rises, we will all be sinners! It is His Grace that will save us from what we have done, don’t you know?!” The man spoke in a roar, loud enough for the crowd in front of him to hear. A Bible in hand and a slow approaching grin intrigued the many people standing before him. They collected in awe, happiness, sadness, and anger at the sermon he preached. It did help as well that he attracted so many females with his looks.
A very tall, black-haired man with a sharp jawline littered with stubble. His eyes bright blue and his voice dangerously inviting; he spoke the word of God to anyone who spared their time. In his little tent on the outskirts of Colorado, he set up a collection plate to be passed during every sermon. His means of survival relied on the judgment of the townspeople nearby, and furthermore. It was not just the word of God that intrigued them, but his feverish sentiment. Not only was he able to praise their saviors, but he invited everyone to be praised as well.
“Do not be afraid of what you have done! For as long as you accept Him,” He continued, taking the small jump off of his ledge to walk along the aisle of the assorted chairs set up within the tent. He met eyes with many who sat in, earning their trust. He bent down next to a little boy who sat within the inner aisle, raising a wafer to him as an offering, “The body of Christ. If you accept Him, you will live in everlasting glory.” The boy put his hands together before closing his eyes, as the preacher joined him, and many others, crossing themselves before the boy accepted the body.
“You remember that His name will live on, as will mine. No, I would and never can be as glorious as Jesus Christ, but I will say his word until the day I die! Or my name isn’t Father Tucker.” He stood back up, putting his hands together once more to allow everyone to join in prayer. As the cross was once again placed amongst their chests, the collection plate neared its final chair. “God bless every single one of you, and He and I hope to see you here again next Sunday! Take care, amen.”
“Amen.” The crowd replied in turn, collectively coming to take turns with handshakes to the preacher. As the tent began to fall silent, with the sound of conversation being guided away from it, the preacher made his way towards the podium that the last person would have placed the collection plate. Usually on nights where there was a terrific turnout, the preacher would wear a wicked grimace before using that money for his own needs. He continues to tell the people of the church that the money will go towards a temple, but it has not been officially collected once. Instead, a man of sin hiding within is stumbling.
However, when he approached the podium, he noticed that the plate was not there. His eyebrows furrowed, beginning to look up and around the tent. A startling revelation dawned upon him as he sunk his eyes on one lonely churchgoer still resting in the last seat on the right.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry sir, but you’re going to have to take leave. I’m getting ready to close up for the night; I have places to be.” The preacher raised his voice to gain the attention of the blonde, his head lowered and messy. After a couple of seconds, he began to hear a small chuckle, but the man still did not raise his head. Beginning to grow frustrated, the preacher began to walk towards the man. Approaching and standing over him near the back, he repeated himself, “Fella, it’s time to leave. I will be having another sermon next Sunday, you can come back then.”
“Jeremiah, seventeen-eleven. What is it?” The blonde said in a slightly hectic voice, though still low. The preacher scoffed slightly, recognizing the game the man was playing. While this had happened several times before, attempting to accuse him of fraud, he had stumped their skepticism.
“As the partridge sitteth on eggs, and hatcheth them not, so he that getteth riches, and not by right, shall leave them in the midst of his youth, and at his end shall be a fool.” He repeated plainly, raising an eyebrow and presenting a slight smirk to add to his brag. The blonde simply chuckled once again in response, finally raising his head in raised laughter, but his eyes remained close. “What the hell is so funny?!” The preacher spat, crossing his arms.
“My apologies, no cause for humiliation. It is just interesting to see you in this sort of predicament.” The blonde replied, finally opening his eyes and looking towards the preacher. Though slightly clouded with frustration towards…the stranger, he could not help but notice his eyes.
Green. Pure emeralds incensed with flames. The sight alone unsettled him. Even with how deadly they looked, the familiarity came alongside those feelings.
“I’m sorry, but do I know you, mister? I have no damn clue what you are saying.” Craig answered firmly, continuing to lock eyes with the stranger who had him in a corner.
“A man of God, through and through. A bond that can never be broken no matter how hard His design can hurt it.” The blonde smiled.
“God’s design is for the betterment of all; you should know better than to walk in to insult his design.” Craig said in a low tone, his patience wearing thin. In an instant, almost in the blink of an eye, the blonde had disappeared from the seat. Startled, he began to turn around, but was met with the side sight of the blonde gently grabbing hold of his chin.
The blonde began to turn his head towards him, locking Craig in what he would say was a lapse of judgment. When in reality, the blonde stranger catching him the way he did, in a manner of witchcraft, terrified him. When their eyes met once more, the fear had begun to soften. The eyes that once hid flames seemed to have burnt out. A longing, kind adrenaline pulsated through his veins in a way never before experienced.
“Blue eyes, longing for Him. I could always tell by the sparkling gleam. I noticed them so long ago.” The blonde softly spoke, no longer holding the face of someone who may have been playing games. As scary as this should have been, Craig felt only the cold breath of…and began to feel worried as to why the man was cold.
“Have you been watching me?” Craig softly replied, beginning to search his face for clues. Within the suddenness of an embrace such as this, the touch of the man felt tantalizing. Inviting.
“Consider me your…guardian angel of sorts. You can call me Tweek.” Tweek softly replied in turn, admiring Craig’s features. The softness of the skin beneath his stubble and the way that his hair fell down onto his forehead. The way that he looked into his eyes once more.
“You are very forward, Tweek. I-I am not sure what is happening.” Craig simply replied, obviously ensnared regardless of the strange circumstances.
“I will be taking care of you. Now that I know that you are here, and safe, I will keep you that way. I will not let any harm fall upon you, Your Grace.” The line slipped from his lips, confusing the preacher even more. He pulled away from Tweek, now feeling oddly comfortable and confident enough to do so.
“The only grace worth spreading is within the word of the Lord. A-As long as you…come here, I will try to understand your determination. Though I am appreciative, this is a bit…well—creepy.” Craig put it bluntly, his cheeks growing more red. Whatever effect those words were meant to put on Tweek fell onto deaf ears. His bright red cheeks only caused Tweek to bite his lip in want, showing his rather long canines.
“Forgive me, My Grace. I shall leave you be,” Tweek bowed in slight embarrassment afterwards, before mysteriously pulling the collection plate from behind his back, “and return this to you.”
Craig looked once more at Tweek in confusion, noticing the slight twitch of his arm as he took the plate from him. A warm sensation fell amongst his cheek before looking back up, with no one within his sight any longer.
Even though the fear should have been high, Craig felt only protection. Somehow understanding that no harm would fall to him tonight.
Within the sky’s darkness, a thief of name hides within the trees. Though Craig will be protected, it will not be the angels from above who secure his safety.
It will be the flames engulfed in its’ eyes that truly house the imp bound to a man of God. The Devil has a fun way of toying with His soldiers.
-
“Shit.” The preacher mumbled to himself as the ball landed on the white number fifteen outlined by black, bowing his head.
“Fifteen-black, you lose.” The dealer tsked as he swiped up the preacher’s chips, brandishing a sly smile of greed. “Want to try your luck again, Father?”
“Not unless I get another Old Fashioned in me.” Craig replied with a sigh, standing up from the roulette table with a small grunt. He grabbed hold of his empty glass, still littered with ice, his cigarettes, and his two remaining chips. The dealer nodded before Craig made his way over to the bar, admiring the new additions. Ever since prohibition had ended, the bars around town were aiming to spruce up their joints with fancy ornaments and mahogany table tops. The bartender was busy shaking up a new cocktail as Craig sat down, placing his glass in front of him. The bartender poured the drink for the gentleman that sat next to him, complimenting it with a white foam, of which Craig suspected were egg whites.
“Here you are sir.” The man picked up the drink, while the bartender focused now on Craig, “Another Old Fashioned, Father?” Craig raised an eyebrow, side-eyeing the man next to him, whose hair was blonde and slicked back.
“Hey, fella,” Craig turned, “What’s that there?”
“It is, from what I was told, a Shock Absorber, My Grace.” The man replied, taking a small sip while he focused his eyes on Craig, whose eyes widened in turn. Stunned by suddenly remembering the man from the week prior, he stuttered slightly before turning back to the bartender.
“O-One of those then. Indulge me.” Craig said, now turning to face the man once more and directing his dialogue towards him, “I didn’t realize that it was you, Tweek.”
“Why–yes–My Grace. I told you that I would be watching over you.” He responded, smiling back at Craig. He wore a black suit this time around, a black tie and white shirt adorned underneath, and his hair still spiking at certain angles. “It also gave me time to adjust to this new…Era.”
“New era? What in the Hell are you, man?” Craig chuckled, giving Tweek a small pat on the back before turning back towards the bartender, who was now pouring his drink as well.
“I already told you, My Grace, that I am a guardian angel, of sorts.” Tweek replied, taking a small straw and twirling around the foam that topped his cocktail. Craig took hold of his own drink, taking a small sip before being bombarded with the taste of bitter coffee.
“Good Lord, man, that is strong!” Craig coughed, “Why do you drink this shit?”
“I like coffee. It was the only drink they served that had coffee in it, and I thought I would give it a try. Although, whatever coffee beans are around this time around are very dull. I wonder if I will ever…” Tweek sighed, cupping his drink with both hands, “I wonder if I will ever find coffee that tastes the way that my father’s used to.”
“Where are you from?” Craig asked, reluctantly taking another drink.
“Peru.” Tweek softly answered, smiling.
“Peru? Ha! That’s neat, but very far. How was the sea on your way over here?” Craig chuckled, the stubble on his chin brushing against the glass and leaving it slightly itchy. He felt the alcohol burning in his gut, making him more inebriated by the second.
“It was so long ago, My Grace, that I do not remember.” Tweek responded, taking another sip.
“How long ya been here?” Craig continued to ask, hoping to figure out more about this intriguing, and arguably, quite handsome, man.
“A couple of hundred years.” Tweek said back without an ounce of insanity within those words, as they were absolutely true. Craig furrowed his eyebrows, wanting to chalk up what he had just heard to the alcohol, but his stubbornness could not let it slide.
“That’s impossible.” Craig said without emotion, in fact, he rolled his eyes out of irritation. If this guy was so obsessed with him, then why the Hell is he lying like this?
“It is beyond understanding, and I never understood it either. In fact, these years just blend together without you. That is why I am happy to be back. I have so much to tell you, if you will let me.” Tweek responded, gently grabbing hold of Craig’s hand. Craig, still mesmerized by the man, allowed him to lift it to plant a kiss upon his knuckles. “Before I tell you, why don’t you try your luck on the table again? What is it called–Roulette? Put both of those chips, and mine, on six-red.” Craig hesitantly let go of Tweek’s hand, scoffing slightly before reluctantly downing the rest of his drink, slamming the glass on the wooden surface. Tweek handed him a stack of chips as he stood up, grabbing them from Tweek’s hand and making his way back over to the Roulette table.
“Put it all on red-six.” He said to the dealer as he placed the stacked red chips, totaling six. He did not notice the coincidence in this scenario, but that was because the alcohol was making his ego swarm upwards. The dealer nodded, spinning the wheel before tossing the ball down into it. After giving it a couple of seconds, the wheel finally stopped spinning, and the ball took its place.
On red-six. Craig punched the air in excitement, grinning, “Yes!”
“Red-six, you win.” The dealer frowned slightly, not expecting such a high payout to occur on a single number bet. However, Craig was already over the moon, running back over to Tweek and jumping on him in a hug from behind. Tweek grunted, smiling wide as well.
“Man, Tweek, you are a killer at roulette! Yes!” Craig hugged him tight before letting go, though Tweek would have preferred him to hold him like he had before.
“Anything for My Grace.” Tweek softly responded, leaning his head slightly into his embrace before he had let go.
“Let’s keep this party going! There is another speakeasy right down the road towards my tent.” Craig said as he lifted Tweek up by his shoulders, and Tweek gladly followed him along as he was paid out and offered his coat back. Craig offered to pay on both his and Tweek’s tab, however, the bartender raised his hand with a small frown and his face sweating.
“I-It is on the house, Father. For both you and the gentleman.” He gulped. Craig furrowed his eyebrows and shrugged, placing his wallet back inside his pocket.
“What a lucky night. God really does send his blessings!” He slung his coat over his shoulders, sliding his arms through before swinging the door open, allowing Tweek to walk through first. “No coat?”
“No need, I am always warm.” Tweek responded, placing his hands into his pant pockets.
“Tell me a little more about yourself. Why do you keep calling me Your Grace?” Craig asked as they began to walk down the sidewalk.
“You have been My Grace for as long as I can remember. You may not know me, but I know you.” Tweek responded.
“I, sure as shit, am no actual grace. Hell, I preach the good book, and know it by heart, but I am a lowly sinner.” Craig responded as he spun around, facing Tweek as he began to walk backwards.
“But your congregation has no understanding of that. In fact, they love you enough to pay for your bad habits.” Tweek continued to speak with a small smile on his face.
“It is supposed to be going towards building my own church.” Craig chuckled.
“You need one? I can help you with that, but you will need to tell me which one suits your fancy.” Tweek stopped, glancing around the small town, looking past the buildings towards the several churches.
“Pfft–the only one that suits my fancy, is my own. I even have structural prints made up for my own church, and I will build it one day.” Craig crossed his arms, stopping as well. Tweek looked back towards him, nodding.
“Very well, My Grace.” He said softly.
“Maybe someday, but for now, I am just looking for my lucky break. Maybe tonight, I will get it.” Craig nodded back, turning back to face the street ahead and walking alongside Tweek now. He pulled out his cigarettes, proceeding to flick a match to light one. “You know how to play Blackjack?”
“No, My Grace. I can learn, if you would like me to.” Tweek responded. Craig noticed that his cheeks remained warm, almost as if he was constantly blushing at him. Those eyes were what really caught his attention. He never really fancied the acquaintance of a lady, even though he had tried. When it came to the men around him, he had a preference for the blonde type, but he had to keep that to himself. Under the guise of celibacy, he was able to hide what went against the new testament. Tweek was, unfortunately, or fortunately, testing his courage to stay in that realm. The way he talked to him, those emerald and fiery green eyes, how he was slightly shorter than him, and his smile. That smile made him feel like he knew him for longer than just a week.
“Sure, I can help you learn. You may be my good luck charm.”