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Still nothing? Duncan's smile morphs into a smirk, but his left brow rises. Graceful as ever, Estelle adapts and overcomes. The only thing he gets from her is a sigh at the tour, and a gesture forward. And they were off, just like that.[break][break]

---[break][break]

The tour is rigid, upright, and probably one of the more stale occasions, but it's not without its merits. Seeing as the woman before him puts her all into everything, all he can do is smile and walk. In his head, he's analyzing every bit of the estate, wanting to ensure he has a mental map of it for his own needs. Every hallway, every door, meticulously attempting to piece together the puzzle of the floorplan in his head.[break][break]

When they reached his room, his smile shrinks down, his mouth agape, and moved to that of a whistle. "The architectural design... it's just as Galar's. Was this done for our sakes?" His hands glide over the walls, making further to walk in. The in-suite bathroom, the balcony, the space. He could do anything he wanted, and Pepper shows that immediately, running inside and nesting herself onto the top of the bed, the Nickit quietly brushing her tail side-to-side. With a chuckle now, Duncan remarks quietly to himself how fine the details of this build are.[break][break]

A shared suite? Good. A resting room for his own desires, but what takes his interest more, is the faintest shade upon her cheeks, the Baroness had finally cracked, mentioning her own room. Just as married couples in nobility. You've done your homework, Miss Valentine.[break][break]

But the anxiety of her fiddling her own silver locks, has him in the advantage. "I'll take you up on that offer. I could use a wash. You're free to join, if you wish. Baroness."[break][break]

He removes his jacket, placing it on a chair, before beginning to undress. His shirt first, slowly thrown to the side, before his own belt. Before long, he's undressed, and without a care in the world, as he walks to the personal bathroom. And with it, one single turn of his head. Wondering.[break][break]

That's Galar's ass right there.[break][break]

For the next little bit, he'd let her voice rest. She'd been talking endlessly. He'll take it from here.

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With entry allowed into the room proper, Duncan takes his stroll inside, making way inside, and giving an honest glance around. His back turned to Estelle, his head merely glances about for what reason, only known to Duke Hammerlocke himself. But upon a full sweep, his shoulders sag, as if he was holding his breath. With a single golden eye focused on Estelle, the other hides beneath the shadow of his own silver bangs.[break][break]

With the same disarming smile, he watches Estelle walk with a grace of nobility, a Galarian game of thrones that required that prim, refined, proper step she had. With a move of her hand up, she holds it at the staff, who held breath for his every desire.[break][break]

Come on. How could he not? A little teasing. She offers, so he takes.[break][break]

"You know. I could go for some Kalos cuisine! Maids, if you can, some salade niçoise, as Monsieur Demassieux (Julien Demassieux) might recommend. And for dessert, some crème brûlée, yes?" His smile never once leaves him. If Estelle truly means it, then he'd have quite the fun Kalosian cuisine for lunch. But, her word supercedes his. How would she react?[break][break]

A tour of the location in the meantime, while the staff takes his bags? "A tour from my betrothed of our domicile? Why, that sounds lovely. Lead the way, my dear." There's no sting in his words, but never once does he stop smiling.[break][break]

Never once stepping out of line, never stepping ahead, always one step behind. To watch her walk.

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With a shake of his head, Duncan stares at the flowers around them. "Y'uve done nothin' wrong, Yuina." Melancholy hangs in the air. It washes over him, it pushes down on his shoulders.[break][break]

"Y'ure just like me. Aren't you?" His northern Galarian tone low, a golden eye peering into her very soul, wanting to look in, but seeing the mirror that it was. His facial expression doesn't sour, it merely stands still at a broken, practiced smile.[break][break]

"Ma'names Duncan Calcifet. I'm the Duke of Hammerlocke," he laments quietly, a sadness upon the wind as it blows next to him, pushing his hair. He doesn't let her see much more into him. He holds fast, his smile telling all he needs to tell.[break][break]

He pauses, reaching into his jacket. To fish for his engagement ring to his fiancee.[break][break]

If he stays, he will regret it. Honesty. "I wanted to take y'u out. The hot lil' librarian look y'u had, the way y'ur cheeks heat up at a compliment. Y'ur passion inspired me. I wanted to see y'u more. Captivated, I chose to forget for a moment that I was a Duke," he starts, as he holds the ring inbetween his fingers, showing her see the source of that pain.[break][break]

"But I can't. The Duke is betrothed to anoth'r."[break][break]

The pain in his smile belies the façade he shows.

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Emptiness.[break][break]

Broken glass all around.[break][break]

When she speaks, the subject changes. While his face is unseen, his heart isn't. She's the first woman in this region, so far, that sees deeper. That cuts the first layer of him. And for the first time, Duncan feels that similar pain. He empathizes, because when he sees her, she's just as hurt as he is. Just as broken, fragmented. He takes a step closer. The fields of flowers feeling worlds apart.[break][break]

"I did," he starts, a step closer towards her. "-then I met a bonnie that made me question everyth'ng." He tries to hide it on his face, and no matter how he, or she smiled, they both just felt similar.[break][break]

"I like hist'ry enough, but it nev'r was my favorite subject."[break][break]

He's no historian. He met Yuina in the museum, in her Hisuian Exhibit. Happenstance. Just that. It was something else that kept him there. He turns back ahead.[break][break]

"Yuina," he stares. The complexity of a facial expression, riddled with turmoil superimposed over kindness. It bends deeper, the troubled sag of a smile. He says her name right as easily as he breathed. "I'd 'ave loved ta' see the rest of'em with y'u," he begins, only to pound the breaks so hard, he got emotional whiplash.[break][break]

He would have.[break][break]

Such is his curse.

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Always fun to discuss such matters with Julien. He doesn't get flustered, and he bats it away, and yet pays it enough mind to respond. He at least puts some stock into that part of the conversation. Enjoyable, without being overbeared by it. How to live like his Kalosian friend![break][break]

Conversation pivoting away again, Julien would remark about the personal life choices. Duncan doesn't stop his signature smile.[break][break]

"Interesting and enjoyable so far, yes. The entertainment is quite nice," he mulls over his time at the museum meeting Yuina Higashi, or his time helping Elise Calcifet with a dragon problem. He leans back. "-in truth, I like getting out and around. Seeing the sights. Meeting the locals. Reconvening with the family"[break][break]

The soup was getting closer and closer to finished. "My friend," he says, beginning to propose quite the question. "-shall I invite you for dinner one night soon? I'll put it in my agenda for us!"

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The Duke of Hammerlocke sees the ambassador smile, and he returns it in kind. It's so pleasant to hear once more from her, and though she may understand Dragons on a more tertiary level, that didn't bother him at all. "We can't very well let our dearest Remiel take all the fun with dragons, aye?"[break][break]

Bothers him less when the two Salamence come swooping in to a land, with the Duke merely taking a step forward. Fantasia merely honks within her harness.[break][break]

A hand moves through his hand, gloved as it trickles through the river of white hair, as he turns to face his dearest cousin again. Approaching his cousin once more, he whispers. "Cover your ears, cousin. Fantasia. Sing."[break][break]

The little Popplio begins to let out a beautiful song from his mouth, the sea lion singing as the Duke places his hands over his own ears.[break][break]

The best way forward, is to soothe the mighty beasts. No bloodshed is needed. No battle need be afforded.[break][break]

The best way to finish conflict is with words.

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Lobster arrives, and though the soup looks particularly good, he mirrors Julien in placing the napkin underneath, upon his lap, before taking a small bite, blowing upon the spoonful of soup, when Julien suggests a meeting. For a moment, he pauses, spoon by his lips. Then, Duncan takes his first bite. Thick. Warm. Hoenn truly surprises him. Delicacies of seafood were to be enjoyed![break][break]

The way Julien smirks has Duncan, momentarily, on the backfoot, but he recovers within seconds. "I'll invite you over for dinner. Her servants will surely cook at the future husband's behest, especially for an old friend." Though his eye never once meets his gaze, merely at his smirk, he turns back to the lobster bisque, another bite now in his mouth.[break][break]

Now that Duncan had finished squirming, it was time to prod at his own friend's fortunes..[break][break]

"You look far too narrowly, Julien! Meeting them on their level, sure, any flower would fawn to be plucked by Monsieur Demassieux. But if they meet you on your own? Lithe with tongue, more ways than one? That's the kind of woman best suited for you, aye?" His golden eye finally rests on his friend's again, the glass of water back to his lips.[break][break]

"Domesticity doesn't suit you, my friend."[break][break]

It never did.

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Hm. Did he strike a nerve? Duncan wanted no such thing, but the way he tightens up, Duncan's grin returns to a smile, and to his declining the offer, Duncan nods, raising his glass again. "I assure you, as we're blethering on here, that choice is out of my hands. Do not fret, Julien." Glass on his feet, every word must be danced around with for the least amount of pain later.[break][break]

The question about Estelle's heritage does a somersault. For the first time, Duncan's smile disappears entirely, a flash of nigh-offense. The smile returns by the mere sipping of water, as he sets the glass back down.[break][break]

"She is a self-made woman. She rose through knighthood at a young age, talented in swordsmanship, more so than I, and joined the Royal Guard. Estelle is known as the Queen's Hound. I've seen her duels before. Graceful. Like a wild flower on the fields, standing out amongst the crowd." He recalls something in his mind, the times they shared a duel, in a dance of blades. An icy bloom, always keeping others at arm's length. A familiar approach.[break][break]

His golden eye moves back up towards Julien. This man truly was dangerous. That's what made it fun to talk with him. "Are you looking to wed soon yourself, Julien?"

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Always perceptive. An able mind like Julien's is dangerous, and one who is taking careful attention to his words should be handled with a little caution on his tongue. It ends with him beaming more.[break][break]

"Thank you, friend. An arranged marriage to a beautiful bonnie, good with a blade, loyal to the Queen. What's not to love?" He does well to hide his true feelings, behind a friendly, happy grin. Keep them all guessing.[break][break]

What's not to love, indeed?[break][break]

As for the date of the wedding, he smiles ear-to-ear. "Aye, you'll get an invitation, old friend. Perhaps even a groomsmen role. I'd hate to not see you in a suit, so you're coming regardless," his accented tone gets a little higher in an airy little flirt, meaning nothing really, but a friendly jest all the same.

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With his back to her, his face is hidden. The silver bangs quietly hung low upon his face. Not even his lips were visible. The walk is slow, his back bends lower, his gaze fastened forward, his stature large. But still, it bends lower and lower. Deeper on blood-built imaginary weight.[break][break]

"Nonsense, Yu'na. I jus' like what I see." He says it with his face turned away. She can't see the way its said, but the tone denotes nothing is wrong at all.[break][break]

He's slow enough to let her catch up, and with it, by his side. His face again, appears with smile, but his other eye is obscured by hair, his gaze not fully shown to Yuina.[break][break]

Her voice is soft. It invites him to the door, a doorway he knows he can pass through, each step no matter the invitation like stepping on broken glass. Hard to avoid it when the soles of his shoes are made from it.[break][break]

"My interests?" he hears her, he does. But when he turns to look at her, his face gives it away for a second. Longing. And then his eye closes, and he smiles ear-to-ear. Genuine. "Stranger th'n fiction," it sounds sad, how his northern Galarian tone just says something so normal.[break][break]

"What I'm interested in... really." he stops. He turns to her, and his face is still smiling.[break][break]

"I don't know how to answer that, Yu'na."[break][break]

No one knew that side. Not Estelle Valentine, not Julien Demassieux, not Elise Calcifet, or Remiel Calcifet. No one knew.[break][break]

Perhaps... I'll find it here.

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Little Sparrow flies up above, a scout that always kept him knowing what was to come. The Wattrel was smart. And here, in ther first real excursion, in the Giant Chasm. As teammates? Equals?[break][break]

Either way, hands in his pockets, he points towards his fiancée. "Will you be quiet the whole trip then, Estelle?"[break][break]

He asks, a smile always on his lips.[break][break]

The further in they go, the closer Walking Wake gets. The closer the dinosaur is, the sooner they have to be ready. A blade is on his person, but hidden quietly, tucked away. Not because he doesn't want to defend himself, but one look at Estelle...[break][break]

He knows he doesn't have to.[break][break]

[break][break]

Huh. His eye twitches. Why did he feel... afraid right now? He was trembling. His smile never disappeared, but it shrunk, as he got an inch closer to Estelle.

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And here we are.[break][break]

Time goes by. When her door opens, he gazes at her. Crimson meets gold. A smile on his face every second, never once to delay, never once to show the cracks. By showing, he is vulnerable. By hiding it away, he is invincible.[break][break]

But a den for lions is the perfect place to put such visage to practice. A woman sits before him now, one he knows well. His fiancée. His eyes trail up the outfit she wears, a once-over to make sure he's looking at the right person.[break][break]

Her questions, immediate. Where is the entourage? Of course, he holds off, his brow risen. Was she so crass not to address him properly? Or did she not care? Fascinating. When she corrects herself, and gives the curtsey, he bows in kind.[break][break]

"That's quite alright, my dear. A pleasure to see you again." Duncan's smile grows, before he returns upright, to finally answer her. "I came of my own accord. I assure you, Pepper is more than enough protection. I waived off the group that wished to join me before I made my way here." The little Nickit makes a fierce screech, the little yellow bandana scarf around her neck showing how cute she truly was.[break][break]

He grins.[break][break]

"I am parched though. What is for lunch?" he asks, taking a step in the moment she moves to let him in. A lingering eye never leaving her.[break][break]

Always question.

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Same old same old. Duncan's happy to hear that. But it's when they get their waters and their order, that Duncan begins to drink and listens. The obvious questions, as he expects.[break][break]

"With the rise of the new Prime Minister after certain incidents, the wealth of Galar is being reformatted for its' restoration," Duncan begins, swirling the water as if it were the finest wine he could ever ask for, a clatter of ice chinking the side of the glass.[break][break]

Never once does he mention his stance.[break][break]

"The Queen is simply acting accordingly. She's sent me here to speak with Remiel Calcifet for restoration, as well as to wed me off to the woman known as Estelle Valentine. I stay at her home in Rustboro for now." Said so matter-of-factly, no hints, not even by his facial expression.[break][break]

His visible yellow eye peers at Julien.[break][break]

"Orders from the Queen are not to be taken so lightly, Julien. As I'm sure you know."[break][break]

Another sip. The water trickles down his parched throat.

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