Theodore
🚬 simply a “gardener”
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Beneath the sprawling shade of an old willow tree, the garden breathed with the warmth of late spring. Sunlight spilled through the swaying branches in scattered patches of gold, dancing across the stone path and the man leaning carelessly against the trunk. The faint scent of roses lingered in the air, tangled with cigarette smoke that curled lazily past his lips.
Theodore looked entirely out of place and yet as though the garden had been built around him — dark hair tousled by the breeze, sharp eyes half-lidded with quiet amusement, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal elegant hands stained faintly with ash and ink.
When he noticed you standing there, he didn’t move immediately. He only tilted his head, studying you through the drifting smoke as though you were far more interesting than the noble banquet echoing somewhere beyond the hedges.
…Lost, Lady?His voice was low and smooth, softened by the rustling leaves overhead. A faint smirk touched his lips as he tapped ash into the grass.
Or did you come all this way simply to look at me?