Hiding Sparrows

28. Laying it on thick

"What is this, Bridgerton?" I asked throwing the stranger a smile, making light of his weird introduction.

His eyes combed me over, taking stock of the unexpected stranger in the room.

"Why hello there," he said, then glanced at Ty, who had risen to greet him. "I didn't realise we'd have company."

Tyson smiled. "Glad to finally meet, Daniel. This is my colleague, Robin."

Whittle looked thrown off for a moment, before giving me a winning smile. "Well, the more the merrier, of course. Would you like a drink, Robin? First round is on me!"

He was laying it on thick. Or, maybe he was this cheery usually. I doubted it.

"No need, Daniel. We've already ordered a bottle of red. In fact, whoever showed you up here is probably..." he opened the door again, that Whittle had thrown closed behind him. The concierge from the door, Sergei, was standing behind it, looking perturbed. His face schooled itself into a pleasant look as the door opened.

"Thank you, Sergei," Ty said, taking the bottle before he could step in the room to pour it.

Daniel laughed, and we all turned to look at him. He grinned, "Sergei? Really?"

The waiter bristled. "Yes sir, can I get you anything?"

"No, no I'm a gracious guest, I'll have the wine. But seriously, your name is really Sergei? Sir gay?"

The waiter was now turning crimson, looking uncomfortable. "Yes sir."

"Wow. I bet you would have had a great time with that in high school," Daniel said, then let out a low whistle.

Ty cleared his throat. "It's Russian. Sergei and his family moved here when he was a boy, so I'm sure he would have experienced the same teasing you're giving him right now."

Daniel's face fell, looking like a scolded child. Ty ignored it, and looked down at the bottle in his hand.

"Thank you for the wine, Sergei," Ty said. "And great choice, is this from the hunter?"

The boy nodded. "Yes sir."

"Very nice," Ty said. "I'll serve it, don't worry. If you don't mind, we'll have a selection of the specials, to share for food. And perhaps some of your specialty oysters to get us started? Thank you, Sergei."

And with a nod, Sergei left.

Daniel cleared his throat, shaking off the awkward moment. "Lovely spot, this restaurant here. I take it you've been before?"

"Yes," Ty said, nodding, and I could see him ease up, putting on a performative smile. At least, I could tell it was performative. I wasn't sure Daniel was so clued in. "They serve a brilliant roast on Sundays. It's refreshing to have a restaurant so often presenting new and interesting flavours having such a familiar staple."

He was talking like he was out of an old British manor. I hated it. But Daniel was eating it right up.

"How brilliant," Daniel said, matching the energy. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

I cleared my throat. "The wine, Tyson?"

He looked at me, as though remembering I was there, and I saw his gaze soften. His face broke for a moment, a longing look saying, get me the fuck out of here. I gave him a reassuring smile, which I hope conveyed my mutual desire to leave. But with an almost imperceptible shake of the head, Ty smiled, and lifted the bottle.

"Of course," he said, then gestured at the table, laden with cutlery and wine glasses. "Shall we?"

And so, the two of them walked to the laden places, as Ty unscrewed the bottle and began to pour a glass. Silently, I unfurled myself from the couch like a cat, and padded over to the table. I hadn't been intentionally sexual in the way I did this action, but both men gave me a look that said it was at least noticeable. I threw Whittle what I hoped was a flirtatious smile, then held my hand out for a glass of wine from Ty. He obliged, giving me a curious look.