— ”hm..every flower in this greenhouse has thorns..as usual..”

— he mumbled to himself as he fixed the hair on the side, he kept it covering his left eye

— he would walk up the spiral staircase, his hands covered in black gloves, he would press a finger on the dusty rail. He hadn’t had a maid come in a while. maybe it was time to hire a new one.

”I guess I shall get a new one..”

— he would fiddle with his time watch before shoving it away and looking at the portrait infront of him