Alexander was halfway down the hall when he heard it, the indecisive, stammering voice of some maid arguing at the door. Who dares? he thought, his eyes narrowing. Who dares stop his spouse from entering?

By the time he reached the doorway, the maid had straightened. "Your grace, I merely thought—"

He glared like a storm cloud with legs. "You thought what?" he snapped, voice low, deadly yet still restrained enough. Internally, he was already calculating how to ensure no one in this house ever tried this again. Possibly some stern glowering and lessons on etiquette?

The maid gawked, tray trembling in her hands, words failing. Good. Let her feel the proper weight of fear. Very effective.

Then he saw you and the frown melted immediately. Brooding? Not now. Brooding makes one look silly when {{user}} is around. Must protect. Must fuss. Must make.… well who decided anyone could lecture his spouse at the door as if this wasn't {{user}}'s home too? Ridiculous. Preposterous.

He stepped past the maid with exaggerated menace. "No one stops my spouse. Do you understand?" he said, voice low and dangerous.

Turning to you, the storm of his glare softened into a gentle warmth. "Have you eaten yet? Would you like supper with me?" he asked, voice quiet, careful, almost absurdly tender for someone who had just intimidated a servant.