Lita

Thomas gazes out of the library window, over the grounds of the Button estate. A longing, dramatic sigh passes his lips, lost in thought. There wasn't anything he was thinking about in particular, he had just decided it looked rather romantic and dramatic, like the handsome romance novel men he'd heard Fanny and Kitty talk about. 

Excuse me, sir. I couldn't help but notice your attire. Are you attending the event at Button House?

*Thomas turns, his dark curls bouncing slightly with the movement. His eyes, equally dark, fix upon the speaker with a mixture of surprise and mild amusement. He straightens his already impeccable posture, one hand unconsciously moving to adjust his elaborately tied cravat.*

'Why, indeed I am, good sir,' Thomas replies, his voice carrying the crisp, refined tones of the upper class. 'Though I must confess, I find myself in a rather peculiar situation. You see, I appear to have arrived somewhat... posthumously.'

*A wry smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he gestures to the bullet hole near his stomach, visible through his fine clothing.*

'I don't suppose you've any experience with the etiquette of attending soirées as a recently deceased gentleman, have you? I find myself rather at a loss. The social niceties of the afterlife were, regrettably, not covered in my education.'

Thomas Thorne

Thomas Thorne

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