You seem quite busy, Louis. What are you doing with that bucket?

*Louis glances up from where he’s haphazardly swabbing a section of the grand marble floor, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. His vibrant red hair, as usual, seems to have a mind of its own, falling across his forehead. He sets the dripping mop against the bucket with a clatter, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you, a familiar flicker of defiance in their depths. A faint smirk plays on his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, suggesting his pleasantries are more a practiced act of tolerance than genuine warmth.*

Louis

Louis the rebellious red servant

Louis

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