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09 - turbulences

Meet Robert Winston.

Meet Thomas Lester.

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Do you want me to save you out of this tonight?

Esmé was at a loss for words, watching the blonde man in front of her, unable to comprehend what he was trying to do. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Her hands tightly grabbed the counter behind her back as her knees seemingly slacked under her. Was he willing to help?

A sudden grin spread on Dean's lips. He leaned back, snorting. Then he laughed. Esmé was completely bewildered.

Then it hit her.

"Why are you looking at me like you really want me to save you?" The look in his blue eyes mocked her. "You think, I care?"

He chuckled still amused, making her feel even more embarrassed as she bit the inside of her cheek hard.

"What's up, Esmé?" He hummed, "Cat's got your-"

She didn't let him finish as her hand collided with the side of his face, startling him. His head flew to the side, his eyes wide as he realized that she had just slapped him. as hard as she could.

His jaw hung open, shock written all over his features.

"You arsehole," Esmé hissed, turning on her heel to leave. This was the last thing she needed. She walked away, still unsatisfied with what she had done. He deserved more. She wanted to smash something into his pretty face - to demolish it.

She sensed him staring after her as she left. Her face felt hotter than ever from all the fury building inside her. Slamming the door behind her shut, she felt dizzy. She stopped in her track to take a deep breath.

"Esmé," She looked up to meet Jack's worried gaze, "Are you ok?"

Shaking her head slightly, Esmé had to pull herself together, "I am." She tried to lighten up, linking her arm with his - but it was more to keep her balance and steady her posture.

Jack nodded only, leading her towards the long table. Everyone was seated already, immersed in their conversations. Some watched as the pair approached the table, smiling and congratulating them again.

Esmé had plastered a smile onto her lips but mostly ignored the comments she was receiving, her mind anywhere but here. Arriving at the very end of the hall, Jack pulled her a seat, gesturing her to sit down. She thanked him in a low voice, almost inaudible, sitting right across an old man. She noticed that he looked like Jack's older version.

It was Robert Winston, Jack's father. He had the same grey-ish eyes as his son, crinkling at the corners when he smiled brightly at Esmé, quickly filling her glass.

"How are you feeling, Lady Esmé?" He asked with his head tipped to the side. He looked at her warmly as she gulped the water, wetting her dry throat.

"Excited," She brought out. It wasn't a lie. She felt agitated even, not knowing what to expect tonight.

"Do you like the dress?" She looked down her body, nodding with a small smile. Leslie had told her that the Winstons' company made it in only a day as her mother had instructed them.

"It's beautiful," She said, staring back up.

"I'm glad you like it." Robert leaned back in his seat, satisfied, "We don't usually make women's clothing. You know, we focus on uniforms. But I have recruited a small group of seamstresses for the time being. They'll do all your dresses for you." Military uniforms, Esmé wanted to add.