Eugene was starkly darkened by how Tillie came to her brother. It was far from his mind, the things that were in Ewan's, but even the proper Grant could see there was something sooty in the blue of Ewan's inherited azures. Forest fire remnants in summer heavens. He did not like Matilda there, and he did not think it was just because he loved her more than he loved to do a good job. He was thinking of ways he might challenge the dapper brother, and then he thought of deceits he could employ to win. Ewan was already coming with so much rotten influence.<br/><br/>Ewan's fingers butterflied out from the pen, once he'd taken some comfort from his sister, and given her some in return. A slight inclination of a handsome head even suggested he bowed when he retreated. Mother's position was not lost on him, the way she boasted her figure, but he could only erect his spine the right way, only to let his head fall in another direction. Mrs. Lund's funeral had been hard on the boys of her class. More then half of them had found comfort in their own hands the same day, though. Boys's sentimentality are short and crude. "Right you are, Mom." he admitted. More defeat for her, and with good nature to follow. She wasn't wrong, but he was acting on cerebral advice now. If humans are animals, as he'd learned on the boats, then they shouldn't plan too much. Eugene was endlessly happy with her scolding. Perhaps, for the cleanliness of their story, he should have been her son and Tillie's brother. Eugene would not have been happy then either, because then Ewan would have come from the outside, and there had been nothing between him and the young girl.<br/><br/>Grant touched his heels together, making himself taller in the face of Ada's supposed fatigue with Ewan's efforts. I am a good man, though, right Ada? He was, however, disappointed and hid it, when Matilda came running into the conversation for Ewan's sake. Wasn't she supposed to be their princess! Eugene had not felt these things in a long time, and he wanted to spit at Ewan for bringing them all up. The girl was very well spoken, with impeccable sentimental points. Should he be more like that, Eugene wondered, when the contracts laid unattended in the wake of the family. He sighed and went to the cabinet. They kept it with drink even so long after the Master had gone. Once Tillie had offered him a sip. He had to pour his own now, and Abraham passed him with an understanding nod.<br/><br/>Mother went first into the room, and Ewan closed the door. He'd kissed Tillie on the way, peck on her head. He couldn't get enough of their contact but it had to suffice for now. He should try her out later. There were guests here, and the staff were vigilante. This was becoming a perfect trap. His thumb secured Matilda in his palm tightly before he left her by the bed and came to Ada again. "That I'm not proud anymore. I've seen too much of that at sea." he answered her. Have this spiky fruit, I've honeyed it for you, with produce from your own garden.<br/><br/>In circling her, he brushed his hand against the lock of the door, but decidedly did not turn it. They remained accessible. "Mother." he asked when their eyes were aligned again. "Mother Ada. I am your son returned to you and I realize what I wanted is not what you wanted." Indeed the forest was burning, and the sky was drinking it up. He took her hand again, but almost kneeled to do so, looking up from the same height he'd been when he'd gone. "I can't have you do anything, but you have to have some oversight with how I am now. I grew up without you." You could have saved me. Not said for guilt, just with sadness, but he'd take either.<br/><br/>"This makes me think of Mr. Miles Blue." he said and then he was really on his knees, holding one of hers in both of his hands. He put her palm on top of his head. It would have been too much if he'd not taught himself this exact stance, among satin sheets. Ewan had the ability to make a great number of overly theatrical things look perfectly gentlemanly. It made him a ruthless seducer. Miles had been that muddy dog. Henley had taken him out and shot him, and though that was pointed, it was not the point. He looked to his sister shortly, wearing mother's touch like a halo. She had loved Miles Blue too. "I was wrong then, even though I thought I was right."<br/><br/>He stood and had her fingers trail his new beauty before pulling her along to the bed, where he sat, still holding on. "I think we can learn from my lesson here, and be the best we can be." He tugged slightly to have mother sit with him too. And that would be that, if she didn't comply. He'd continue something else to try and have her by his side where he was.<br/><br/>But if she tumbled into his charm, the kind all men have in their admitted defeat, he'd smile at her softly, until there were subtle blades on the corners of his mouth. "Do you remember what you did when I was so angry I couldn't have him that I took the mud and put it in my mouth? You shook me and then..." The memory wouldn't have been lost to either of the women. Ada had bent him over her knee, attended with harshness to his backside until he cried with crusted teeth and rosy face. Until he choked on the granulates and mumbled his submission into her skirt. That day his mother had spanked him until it meant the death of Mr. Miles Blue. Henley hadn't told the woman that would be the result, of course.<br/><br/>Tillie was left to be whatever appalled she wanted when the son took mother's shoulder, and put her into his lap. She was at least afforded the bed if she needed something to hold on to, if she did not want to hang closer to the floor. He was, like Henley, doubtlessly stronger than her. Strength wasn't her strength. So, he gathered her skirts expertly and held them to her back until he found her underwear, down there, and pushed it down. How many dreams were revealed to him then, if he got to see the cleft and the rounded flesh of where his mother sat. He should have been frozen in awe but instead he was fueled by his mission.<br/><br/>A first crack, while his other hand was on her back that she could struggle but not prevail. "This is what I learned, that day." he said. Another slap, to see how her flesh would react, how it would move and color. "Please, will you stay in here, sleep with Tillie and I." It was all he wanted. And whatever she answer he'd tend to her there again. "Remember not to answer too strongly. We have people in the house." Prisoner by her own propriety even though it was that very thing that was being tortured. He winked at Matilda, as though he was procuring something she'd requested. His hand stayed on mother's butt, to see if she gave him reason to go on with this, and because it is delicious for a son to have his fingers near where he came from. It was either continued rapping, or calling for attention through the unlocked door.