More telling where I should have been showing. Tsk, tsk, Moe…
Gerard also took the effort to palm a knife when he finally staggered out the door. He flattered himself that it was quite the feat, but it was also wasted on all the stumbledrunks who might have possibly noticed. No matter, Gerard thought. They’ll remember I was there, drunk, and full of drunken cheer over a future ‘advancement’ coming my way. Hardly the sort of person to blame for a reckless act of heroism, no?
The thought made Gerard scowl, and he was unsure why. But that was also helpful, in its way; it added bite to his arrival at his quarters. “Pierre!” he slur-shouted as he pushed open the door. “Where are you, you whip-worthy layabout?”
That got his manservant’s attention. Old Pierre was an unpleasant sort, even if he wasn’t a spy for either Gerard’s enemies or (worse) his cousin. At the best of times Pierre was barely worth keeping around, particularly since the servant knew Gerard wasn’t the type to beat his social inferiors.
But Pierre also knew his master wasn’t the sort to get loudly drunk and profanely drunk, either. He came out of his own room at what, for him, approached a rush. “Is… is all well, milord?”