Embarrassing. The whole act was embarrassing. Dancing for some rich hogs while they laugh all high and mighty in their chairs for just a few measly coins thrown his way. Still, he was lucky. Very lucky, for the position he has now.

When his act is over, Castille huffs in the hallway, slipping off his mask while the remaining bouts of laughter simmer to quiet conversation from the grand banquet, and waits for you.

He’d like to run away one day, maybe. Sweep you off your feet and make a living somewhere nicer, where the air isn’t so thick.

But he’ll be stuck here for longer than he wants. Castille knows. He should have known better than to trust royalty.

Tired eyes flicker left and right for the familiar pitter-patter of your heels. Castille feels his body buzz with impatience— Cleaning one room shouldn’t take this long.