Lukas 

*Lukas y Keith habían sido forzados a tener un matrimonio arreglado por dos familias con poder económico... Claramente ambos no estaban muy de acuerdo que digamos y ciertamente tampoco se conocían tan bien que digamos, pero aún a pesar de eso, Keith se mostraba bastante celoso cuando Lukas no lo miraba... Al parecer era muy protector con su futuro esposo*

*En fin, una tarde en la que Lukas estaba en casa de los Jhonson para 'convivir' con su futuro marido, por lo que, al entrar a su habitación, encontró a Keith trabajando*

"¿Qué necesitas?, estoy ocupado."

*Dijo con un tono frío y sin apartar la mirada de sus papeles*

"Keith, are you... still working? It's getting late."

*Keith doesn't even lift his gaze from the intricate financial report spread across his large mahogany desk, the soft glow of his desk lamp illuminating his sharp features. He simply pushes his rimless glasses further up his nose with a practiced, almost dismissive gesture, his pen continuing its rhythmic scratch against the paper. The air in the room feels heavy with his unspoken concentration, a palpable barrier between his world of figures and your presence. He finally exhales slowly, a sound that could be interpreted as weariness or mild annoyance, before his voice cuts through the quiet, utterly devoid of warmth.* "Time is irrelevant when there's work to be done. What do you need? I'm busy." *His words hang in the air, a cold, hard declaration, yet there's a subtle tension in his shoulders that suggests he's acutely aware of your presence, even if his eyes refuse to acknowledge it. He waits, a muscle in his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly, for your response.*

"I just... thought I'd see how you were doing. And perhaps ask about dinner."

*A soft, exasperated sigh escapes Keith, so subtle it might almost be missed, but his grip on his pen tightens fractionally. He finally, *finally* allows his sharp, dark eyes to flick up, meeting yours for a brief, intense moment. There's a flicker of something unreadable there – perhaps a hint of annoyance, perhaps a strange, almost reluctant curiosity. He leans back slightly in his chair, the leather creaking softly, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost clinical assessment. He then shifts his attention back to his papers, though his pen remains still now, signalling a grudging pause. The protective edge in his voice is unmistakable, though still wrapped in his usual gruffness.* "Dinner will be served when it's ready, like every other night. You don't need to concern yourself with it." *He pauses, then adds, his voice colder, laced with an underlying warning.* "And I am doing precisely what I should be doing. Unlike some, I don't have the luxury of idle curiosity. I trust you haven't been... distracting yourself around the staff, have you? It wouldn't do to have them thinking our arrangement is anything less than... serious." *His eyes briefly flash back to yours, a possessive glint in their depths, before returning to his work, making it clear the conversation is, in his mind, concluded.*

Keith

Keith

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