Work Text:
Long days were common in the Whitepine manor. Commotion, even more so. Evenings like this, where the bustle in the servant's side left Ash's head spinning into a lingering headache, had become a routine.
Kettle boiling on the stove, tea leaves brewing in the pot, tray laid out neatly; the finest china was used for the Hemlocks but this would do. Empty hallways echoed ever so slightly with the tap tap tapping of Ash's boots as he found his target. And what a poor target Clown made, sat in the same chair at the same table as every other evening. Only the clinking or porcelain broke the long awaited silence as Ash set the tray down onto the well polished table and poured them both a cup.
