The gold clip of the pocket watch snipped into place for the last time. This butler was done waiting.
'Good evening, ladies and gent. And welcome to Blackthorn Manor.' The man, Andrew, took a step foward, breaking a brief silence.
'...So can we come inside now? It's gonna rain.' Of this, Desmond knew full well. But he acted surprised anyway.
'Ah, well spotted indeed sir!' The guests surged foward, until a gloved hand halted them. 'But, if I may I advise you Mr. Barnett, to refrain from use of such undesirable language from here on in. Or else I'm afraid I shall have to swiftly remove you from the premises.' The silence this time was deafening, as a look of ambivalence spread across Andrew's face.
'How... how do you know my name?' Desmond ignored him, turning towards the door and laughing.
'Oh sir, I do jest of course, you won't be leaving anytime soon. This way please, make sure you have your invitations at the ready for checking. This is a most exclusive evening, after all. Come now, out of this most ghastly weather.' The guests allowed themselves to be herded foward, confused but glad to be heading somewhere warm. Desmond led them through to a poorly lit but lavish entry hall of sorts, where the soft red carpet was springy under their step. Kat immediatley settled in, kicking off her heels, as if the home were hers. Desmond clapped his hands, commanding the group's attention. 'Now, we never expected such a... meager... turnout. But, we shall make do. If may just procure...' A crashing sound interrupted him, causing everybody to turn. There, in front of the opened door stood a new arrival, bent over from running through the rain. Desmond exhaled, announcing his distaste at the tardiness of this new guest.
'I hope I'm not too late?' The man gasped, catching his breath, his British accent noticably surprising the other guests.
'No, unfortunatley not,' Desmond grumbled in what he probably thought to be a rough tone. 'what might be your name, sir?' The man rose, dusted himself off, and took a confident stride foward, as if reading a line from his favorite play.
'Tom. Tom Worthing.' Announced James, arms outstretched, as that very same, sly smile began to return to his face.