Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was young, the air was sickly sweet with carefully-selected perfumes and every room bustled with noise - a suffocating, head-spinning noise rife with the glee of too many who would regret their behaviour by morning. Music bounced off every wall of the estate so finely decorated, and matched the pounding of Maxwell Carter’s growing headache in tempo and volume. He hated these nights, but without fail his home opened like clockwork on the first of every month; the famed magician himself, however, rarely was seen. Rumors spread fast, Mr Carter was no stranger to such, but the theories he’d heard about himself were oftentimes so wildly outlandish he had no clue where to start in denying them.
The man’s reputation, as it were, held something of a mystique to those who bothered themselves with gossip and the likes of it.
Wilson Higgsbury did not bother himself with gossip, and frankly saw no reason he should- he’d found his place at parties like this, quite firmly planted by the liquor and withdrawn to a point. The wine swirling in his glass matched almost perfectly the shade of red on the fitted vest his mother had stuffed him into unwillingly. It seemed to quite compliment the faint tint of rose developing across his nose and cheeks as he delved further down into the drink. He’d never been particularly fond of red- hell, he’d never been particularly fond of wine, but it looked the part enough and got him tipsy enough to almost make the event bearable. Almost.

“I'd recommend the Château Pontet-Canet to the left. 1904, wonderful year for Bordeaux. Start of a fair few terrible years for them, I suppose."

The advice came from a man to Wilson’s side, a show-bird peak lapel crimson three piece tailored to the last inch, eyes that didn’t so much as offer the courtesy of meeting Higgsbury’s. Wilson’s gaze slid him up and down, then slowly drifted to the named bottle as he turned the suggestion over in his mind. His tongue ran over potential responses, each perhaps ruder than the last as he considered dismissing the man entirely for daring to initiate any kind of conversation. Alas, as tempting as it was, he could already feel the threat of caning the internalized voice of his mother imposed.

“Wine expert?”
He instead replied, somewhat sharply as he took the suggestion head-on by draining his glass to refill.
“Not a fan of wine, I couldn’t care less what I-”

“-Wine enthusiast, actually. They’re also my drinks. Maxwell Carter, it’s a… Pleasure.”
Mr. Carter hesitated over the last word, not quite sure it was true even as it left his mouth. He stuck a hand out to shake, sounding exactly as thrilled as Wilson was to be here.

Wilsons eyes narrowed and studied the hand being held out in front of him. Darting from Maxwell, to his hand, to which he finally gave in to give a firm handshake to.“Wilson P Higgsbury.”

“Ah, a Higgsbury,” Maxwell smiled wide with faux-enthusiasm, speaking as if on script, “I’ve seen your father frequent my events, been introduced to your mother. I assume you’re the bright young boy I simply must meet? And a lawyer, if I remember corre- no, a doctor. How could I forget?”
He set his drink down, clasped Wilson’s hand with a warmth that could almost be mistaken for genuine. It was almost sarcastic in execution, although the host certainly held some skill in how fast he could pinpoint the man’s family name.

Wilson rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek, poorly containing a scowl at the man’s words.

"Well-"
The host continued, each word carefully placed, poking and probing to elicit a reaction on Wilson's face. He was searching, trying to place the man into one of his neat little boxes. Trying to figure him out.
"-Suppose we've got the 'meet' part out of the way, haven't we? Tell me, are you a new face to my hunting grounds, Dr. Higgsbury? Or have I somehow managed to miss your company?"

Wilsons face plastered with an unimpressed expression, the largest one he could muster. This man was a card, in a game of poker Wilson seemed to be losing with each sentence that dared to pour out of this man's mouth. How dare he read him so thoroughly, barely walking into the game. He rolled his tongue in his cheek once again, that same sneering look that seemed to never leave the doctor's face. Wilson tended to carry on the mindset that unless you had something meaningful or intelligent to say, everyone else was a blundering git.
“I only surround myself with people I deem have company worth keeping.” The tone was cold and bitter, proceeding to look off to the side

Maxwell gave a gentle laugh laden with clear pity, eyes falling to his breast pocket to count something within.
"Say, pal, how do you feel about a mutual agreement of sorts?"
His gaze flicked up, holding firm to Higgsbury’s as his hand fell to scoop up his drink again.
"I fancy a cig, and this may come as a shock but you're not the only one here dodging conversation. What say you, to a short walk somewhere with some more air?"

Wilson finally bothered himself enough to look at him, not unsubtly glancing across the passing crowds with a wary eye.
“Are we not currently talking? Seems like an unfair trade,” He spoke sarcastically, but in truth didn't entirely mind the idea of using this man as protection. He turned over the offer a moment, before the familiar face of his mother passing close by jolted him to hastily accept.
"However, I suppose it's an honour to tour with the host, Mr. Carter."

"You can leave at any time, Dr. Higgsbury. I'm blatantly using you as a guard against socializing. If you have better places to be, by all means vanish to them." Maxwell sipped at his drink, gesturing for Wilson to follow.

Wilson complied, following along beside with elegance, the stance as natural as breathing, although likely not by choice.
"I'm only teasing," he mentioned, gazing down into his wine glass, “You’re the only person worth talking to here, I suppose. How are you acquainted with my parents' presence here, Mr. Carter? Have you ever met them personally? Or just kissed up to dear old father’s painfully heartwarming business facade, like the rest of his git clients?”

"I kiss up to nobody. They all want to feel important, I don't trust anybody who introduces themselves to me differently after learning who I am. I know them in passing, a few of the same faces in a shifting crowd." Maxwell murmured bitterly.
"Apologies if my words insult your parents-" He added, a shallow afterthought that suggested he held little true regret.

Wilson glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly in amusement.
“I would applaud you on it, Mr. Carter.”
He downed the rest of the wine in his glass rather quickly, as if it were a cold spirit, moving onto the balcony to look out at Maxwell’s view. He rubbed his own hair from his face slowly, strands slicking through his fingers with a soft and barely audible sigh.

"Quite the view, no-?"
Maxwell had already leant out over the balcony edge, and now gave a small smile, looking out over the garden. Glass and fabric alike glinted in the evening lighting, turning the mass of people that had been suffocating amongst, into a swirl of glittering hues from above.
"It's the only part of these I genuinely enjoy. Up here, watching people interact, dance, exist. Fascinating things."

Wilson let his view shift at Maxwell’s words, standing in silence to try and find the beauty the host had described with such an oddly soft tone. Holding the railing, chewing his lip as he concentrated, the annoyance of people slowly blurred and faded into the shimmering visage his attention had been directed to.
"You enjoy watching the world evolve around you, do you?"

"I enjoy watching the world evolve below me. I like to watch the world squirm, like fish in a tub, like a rat cut open." Maxwell pondered aloud, his voice growing quieter a moment, more distant as the glittering of the crowd reflected in his steel-grey hazel eyes.
"Spread out like a newspaper for me to inspect with a disconnected eye, writhing and pulsating as a whole."
He paused, and it was hard to tell if the shock was genuine or a carefully orchestrated performance.
"Apologies, doctor, I seem to be thinking aloud-"

Wilson looked up carefully and shook his head. “It’s rather morbidly poetic, I enjoy it” he said, before finally giving Maxwell his first slight smile that night. He placed his glass on the railing delicately. “I will give you this much Maxwell Carter, you’re very charming, whether I'd like to admit it or not. Normally I would have told you to piss off by now to return back amongst your kind, but I don’t know what it is about you that I find to be so oddly captivating.”

"Captivating."
Maxwell considered the word, as if tasting it. Rolling it across his tongue. After a moment, he seemed to decide he liked the flavour, and smiled. "You're a fan of the more morbid side to things, are you?”

Wilsons hands strummed the railing with gentle taps, a pianist’s muscle memory showing through the careful mask the man held, before he moved to grip the railing of the balcony slightly tighter, glancing over it carefully with fidgeting hands. He didn’t dare let himself face Mr. Carter as he spoke, fearing eye contact would derail his already unsteady train of thought.
“Morbid is often unseen by the masses, however much they bite at the magical, the paranormal and strange. I find it extraordinary, my parents… disagree.”
He leaned on his hand, considering his own thoughts on the matter.
“More or less, I like exploring and, as you put it earlier, dissecting things people wish not to look into or touch. Things that are considered forbidden I tend to find extraordinarily intriguing. Test the limits in which God gave man free will to experiment with.”

As Wilson spoke- or, as Maxwell jokingly thought of it, blathered on- the host unbuttoned the jacket that seemed less affrontingly vivid red in the crisp night air. He clipped and lit the cigar he’d migrated outside for in the first place, and was almost shocked to find his attention drift away from the glittering mass below, onto his present company. Following the hints of passion that managed to surface when Wilson spoke on something he seemed genuinely fascinated by, Maxwell’s curiosity reared its head like an ancient beast long-contained by mossy boredom.
"So…”
He started, for the first time in their conversation seeming to genuinely hesitate, putting stock in his words past a playful push and pull. Before, of course, the half-joking glint in his eye returned, and a puff of smoke accompanied his words.
“You have hobbies worth their time, then? You'd be surprised how many people call 'entertaining' and 'smoking' hobbies."

Wilson turned his head around when he mentioned the thought of a hobby. Now that was a topic he could speak on. “Would you like to know my profession, Mr. Carter? Because I can assure you, it’s not what my parents have probably boasted about me to you about.”

“Is it… not a doctor, Dr. Higgsbury?”
Maxwell chuckled lightly, the sound odd on the man so carefully preplanning his every word. It made him sound much more genuine, although this in itself could be as scripted as his public face seemed to be.
"Then by all means, do share. I'm not sure if you'd know my own, although your parents certainly would. I will grant you this, you don't strike me as the most well-informed in my industry-”
He clarified fast, “-That's a compliment,” before quickly raising his drink to his lips.

Wilson cleared his throat. Glancing around to ensure his parents were nowhere in sight, before proudly announcing,
“I’m a man who fancies himself in studying the inter-dimensional physical aspects and studies of factual components.”
He paused to enjoy the bewildered look that flitted across Maxwell’s face, before adding,
“That’s fancy talk for, I’m a scientist.”

"A scientist?"
Maxwell’s eyebrows rose, spluttering on his words as a mouthful of wine found its way partially to his lungs.
"Well, that explains the… everything, doesn’t it, Dr. Higgsbury? I suppose in that case, you could say I'm a man who fancies himself in studying the inter-dimensional metaphysical aspects and studies of yet undiscovered components. That is, I'm a stage magician."

Wilson raised his eyebrow, before he held back a scoff of utter disbelief. He had expected something unusual, certainly, but he was now convinced this man was far more of a loon than he'd given him credit for.
"Magician?” He blinked, as if he didn’t hear correctly the first time, “And how has that occupation worked out for you, Mr. Carter?”

Maxwell didn't seem bothered by the reaction, in fact vaguely amused. He gestured around at the opulence, the large house and the party.
"I'd say rather well, actually. How is it being grounded in the physical?”

The self-professed scientist gave a slight glare, accessorising such with a wide, sarcastic smile.
“Touché. Enjoy it while you can I suppose, you'll bore of the money soon enough”
His eyes slid back to the view, resting his elbows now on the railing.

"Soon?" Maxwell once again gestured around at the party. A laugh clinging to his words, outright amused by the conversation now.
"Clearly, I'm not bored yet?"

“You’ll get there eventually” was Wilson's only short retort, clearly not reading up on Maxwell's sarcasm. He began to rub his hands together slowly, as he watched everyone downstairs talk amongst themselves. The man didn't seem much of a conversationalist, when the topic wasn't to his taste at least. So, he gently nudged the subject.
“Why out of all the interesting choices- chose to be a magician as a career gateway?”

"The metaphysical was always more interesting than what is grounded in reality." Maxwell gestured for Wilson to follow some paces to the left, watching carefully below him. Smoke rose in soft curls as he spoke, tumbling from his lips with each careful word.
"The subtle ways my actions can shape the world, how my every move can influence those around me. What little magics I can stir, even in the plainest day. It's about that feeling of wonder, Dr. Higgsbury, the thinning of walls between the real and the believed. You and your science can tell me magic isn't real, but then what do you call that spark in the eyes of a non-believer when for just a moment he's caught off-guard?"
He plucked a near-wilted rose from a nearby potted bush as he spoke, crumbling the flower in his hand until only loose petals remained. There was a moment he leant over the railing to carefully watch a pair converse, Wilson joining curiously as the pair grew closer, the chemistry evident.
Maxwell sprinkled the petals as the wind picked up slightly, pulling back out of sight as a swirl of fragrant red encircled the couple.
For a moment, Maxwell Carter looked simply pleased with the little magic he'd brought about. Smoke framing his mischievous smile, the wrinkles deepening with boyish emotion as his face lit up- but as quickly as it had come, the light breeze seemed to snatch this peek of Maxwell Carter away, and the poised and elegant man returned.

Wilson rubbed one of the rose petals falling from his own wilting boutonnière in thought, watching with curiosity. He couldn’t quite place his finger on what about the man so caught his attention, any ego such as this would otherwise wrinkle Wilson’s nose.
Maybe it was the wine.
Nonetheless, his eyebrow raised with a persistent curiosity, fascinated by this man’s intentions and actions. He could feel that tug, that awful tug of being caught in the rapids of discovery and part of him knew it would itch the walls of his mind until he’d solved this puzzle of a man.
“So you like playing Cupid, Mr. Carter? Or God?”

"Playing God?" Maxwell hummed.
"I suppose that's one way to describe it. But not quite so intentionally. Call me, simply curious. Enchanted by the human condition.”

Wilson rolled his tongue into his cheek.
“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” He started, his lips pulling into a smirk, “But the cat’s got nine lives.”

"And the rich man has plenty more. The poor man prays for salvation, I buy mine to store beside my dust-laden wines." Maxwell retorted, already tiring of Wilson’s attempt to playfully best him. Adjusting his cuffs, cigar clenched between his teeth.

Wilson stuck his nose up slightly. A look of personal disgust twisted his face to the mention. This man's wordplay was rather fun to mess with to say the least.
“The day I get on my knees and pray, is the day I admit that the paranormal exists in the mortal realm.” He stated begrudgingly.
“God does men no favors, and from my discrete memory God gave man free will. The rich man lives no luxurious life at soul, you marry some wench two times younger than you just so she can make a living off your fortune, keep you around for your money a couple years, waiting for you to die off. You can buy whatever you want in this life, Maxwell Carter, but you certainly won’t buy my respect, or catch it with your fancy wordplay.” he said with a challenging glare.

"I bought your presence. Would you and your family be here if I were part of the common folk? I can't buy respect, you're right. But I can certainly pay for the shortest route." Maxwell challenged with a tired expression, holding back a comment about Wilson’s apparent attitude towards women. The obnoxious scientist could insist what he wanted about the fairer sex, Maxwell was awfully fond of them.

Wilson squinted his eyes over at him. This man was testing his patience. “I’m here because my mother thinks I’ll meet and court someone- otherwise I would have happily settled for being back home in my study, with a glass of whiskey and a fuck to give.” he retorted more shortly, some imagined competition being fought. “You may have won over my parents, but you have yet to impress me Mr Carter, this place is merely as typical and inducing as every other party and gathering I’ve attended. I dare you, to absolutely swoon me, and I don’t dare or bet unless I’m certain I’ll win.” With that, he grabbed his empty glass. “I’m going back to take more of your god awful Pontet-Canet.”

"Moody one, aren't you?"
Maxwell chuckled to nobody as he was left alone, leaning back against the balcony. Not bothering to follow Wilson, puffing on his cigar. He'd be back, Maxwell was confident. He'd already wooed the man in every way that mattered.
“Pray tell, Dr. Higgsbury- what are you so scared of to make you flinch so hard?”

Chapter Text

Wilson refilled his own drink before his parents came to bother him once again, which was bound to happen. His mother grasped his shoulders with a digging grip, as if Wilson were a show pony she wanted to carry around and exploit, as he begrudgingly was dragged along to every young woman his mother could possibly have him meet. Despite being raised a gentleman, Wilson’s tendencies and behaviours at parties were under a strain. His family held high performance expectations around important crowds. Their family name was incredibly valuable. 
However, the last person Wilson was last seen talking to had been a very uptight guest, and it had become apparent that he must have made a very off putting comment on her breasts; which resulted in the poor and rather embarrassed girl angrily chucking her glass of wine straight in Wilson’s face, which could be fairly argued was deserved.

Far above the crowd outside, now alone within a haze of smoke for a blissful moment of peace, Maxwell’s eyes traced the party like an owl’s moving over a dense forest in search of prey. Silent, unassuming, and terribly accurate. He did, however, seem to be squinting slightly, perhaps due to an absence of eyeglasses he’d otherwise rely on.
At Wilson’s actions, the very air seemed to shift slightly, the magician’s hair raising as the mood changed. His head leant back for a precious moment, taking a deep draw from his cigar before stubbing it out to save for another time, he accepted his fate and returned to the public space.
The disturbance rippled the crowd into whispers, and it wasn’t long before the host had located the source, not unlike a spider within his web. His lithe and delicate fingers came to rest on Mrs Higgsbury’s shoulder.

“Madame, Mademoiselle, young Higgsbury-”
Maxwell gave a charming smile, his voice smooth and steady in the otherwise tense air.
“-There’s no need to cause a fuss. The wine is flowing, and the music is playing loud. Dr. Higgsbury, shall I escort you somewhere quiet to clean yourself up?”

‘That’s Maxwell Carter-’
‘-Came out of nowhere’
‘Taller up close-’
‘-worships devils’ 

Wilson wiped his face off in a fueled fit of annoyance. He had certainly planned on making his way over to yell some sort of undignified curse word over the women’s way before Maxwell had decided to step in.
Maxwell’s hand slipped away from Wilson’s mother, instead focusing on being ready to calm Wilson if needed.

“You’re lucky this suit’s red, you bodacious whore-”
Wilson spat bitterly, reaching in his pocket to grab a handkerchief and wipe his stained face off.  A small grimace wavered Maxwell’s expression for a fraction of a second, however, the comment was corrected once his mother slapped Wilson harshly on the back of the head. Causing the rose he had pinned to his chest to scatter wilted rose petals to the ground.

“For God’s sake Percy! Mind your language!”
She retorted in an enraged and embarrassed panic, agreeing when Maxwell had offered his services. “Thank you, Mr. Carter, you’re very kind” she grinned in his direction in hopes it would cover her embarrassment, before roughly grabbing Wilson by the ear, making the grown man flinch and grit his teeth as he lowered his head.
“You know better than to act like this in public!” She scolded, whispering in his ear.
Maxwell's polite smile dropped at the speed of light at Mrs Higgsbury's words, barely containing a harsh glare. 

Mrs. Higgsbury then lightly shoved Wilson towards Maxwell's direction, placing her hand to his lower back before casting him off in said direction. Enough to still look like a gentle nudge, but enough for Wilson to understand the message behind it.
“Clean yourself and come back.” She ordered, before returning to the party with a show stopping smile.
Maxwell caught the scientist by the shoulder as he stumbled slightly forward, his posture now squared as he guided Wilson, putting himself between the retreating mother and son. 

‘Did you hear about his old assistant?’
‘Heard he hurt her.’
‘Heard she’s lying.’
‘Heard she never said a thing.’

“Come, Doctor.”
The firm hold softened as Mrs Higgsbury moved further away, Maxwell’s hand shifting slowly from Wilson’s shoulder to his upper back. Gently guiding the scientist away, amidst clear whispers of the host’s name, and the subjectively vulnerable rumours that followed it.
Wilson didn’t even protest going back with Maxwell, anywhere to get away from his mother at the moment sounded like divine bliss, including Maxwell’s company. He glanced at the hand on his shoulder only a moment, but kept wiping his face off anyways until they reached somewhere he could clean himself off properly. Maxwell guided him to a powder-room, looking over him with a disconnected gaze.

Wilson placed his soiled handkerchief on the counter, and untied his dress shirt. He didn’t seem to be phased by his mother’s behaviour, it was simply something he assumed was the norm, or had grown used to being the norm. Maxwell rummaged through shelves, to produce a deep purple hand towel.

“I'd offer a clean shirt, but I'm not sure it would fit you."
The host spoke softer now that the two were secluded, the oddly protective air fading. Wetting the towel down, he leant slightly to inspect the damage to the fabric, with apparent disregard for personal space- He didn’t seem to so much as notice his own breath against Wilson’s wine-damp breast.

Wilson took the clean towel from him, reeled his head back slowly from how incredibly close Maxwell's face had gotten, and decided it would be best to say what had been lingering on his mind as he lightly stepped back to fix his shirt collar. “Thank you” he said, as he dabbed at his collared shirt slightly, knowing it would be stained permanently due to his lack of impulse control. He wiped his face and slight stubble off before he went to put his vest back on in annoyance, mumbling to himself.
"It's no problem. If anything, it's a good excuse to remove myself from the crowd.”

Maxwell chuckled, guiding the towel to a stray drop the scientist had missed. Wilson watched him direct to where, and wiped his face off entirely, as Wilson continued.
“You come off as the type of man who would love crowds, I’d assume being a magician and hosting parties like these crowds of overbearing rich pricks don't bother you-” he said, raising his eyebrow a moment to his host, “-or did you just want an excuse to be able to talk to me again because, secretly, you actually enjoy it?”

"I'm a very good actor, my friend.”
Maxwell rose again to his full height, turning to rummage for something in the drawers and compartments through the bathroom vanity.
“Charming around the right people- that doesn't mean I like it. Besides, I didn’t want that poor woman to resort to more violent reactions if I let you open your mouth a second time."

Wilson nodded his head.
“Ah- how could I have forgotten that.” He said sarcastically with a grin, looking over the stain in his white shirt with annoyance. Knowing he would need to bear with it for the rest of the party at least. 
“You’re putting up a rich facade, is that it?” He retorted as he dusted himself off.

"Smarter than you look when you’re covered in wine, aren't you? Clearly, you've not learnt that skill.”
The magician glanced back for just a moment to slowly move his gaze up and down Wilson, as if teasingly judging him.
“Do you end all conversations with women on the receiving end of a thrown beverage, or is tonight especially lucky?”

Wilson gave him that same annoyed, sarcastic glare again.
“My IQ surpasses yours times three” he stated as if this were a fact he had no need to prove. “Six years of university wasn’t cheap, maybe if you stick around long enough I’ll entice you to pay off my student loans.”

"You can tell the actual IQ of a man entirely from if he measures the worth of a person off their IQ alone."
Maxwell scoffed slightly, a hint of playful amusement at the edge of his words as he seemed to finally locate what he’d been looking for. He turned on heel, resting his hands on his hips as he held a horn-carved comb.
"Can't your parents pay your way, Doctor?"

Wilson merely crossed his arms.
“You’re certainly aggravating.” He responded. 
“My parents are fabulously wealthy, I am not, and they only pay for things they think will benefit them. I’ll die before I crawl to dear old mother and father for a sliver of financial aid” His gaze would occasionally fall upon different parts of the room as he spoke. Eye contact seemingly not his strong suit.

“I see.”
Maxwell’s voice lowered slightly as a hint of his earlier displeased frown tugged at the corners of his lips. Again he looked over Wilson, but this time his eyes held no playful judgement. Instead, taking in every detail he could find. His gaze seemed to open Wilson up like a vivisection, every uncomfortable detail for a moment laid bare.
As he spoke again, the moment broke.
“Then why are you here tonight? Why drag yourself from the comforts of the fireplace, why force yourself into… slightly ill-fitting clothing, why contort your personality into something for the everyman to poke holes in? Don’t insult me by telling me you were forced, there’s always a choice. Why are you here?”

Wilson looked back at the door finally, deciding to focus his attention on that.
“Because if I don’t marry or make the effort to look like I’m trying to marry some rich prick by the end of tonight then most certainly my parents will finally kick me to the curb when I deem to no longer be of service to them, or our family.” He said finally. He fixed the tattered rose against his suit, as the rest of the wilted petals began to fall slightly.

Maxwell finally offered out the comb, reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket to obtain an ornate pocket blade, flicking it open in his off hand without explanation for why it was needed.
“How wretched. I’ll spare you my full thoughts on the matter, no doubt you’ve had enough rich bastards trying to tell you what is wrong with society. But I'd be interested to see how your parents choose to introduce you to me. Perhaps a grown man being publically treated like a child by his mother is the very thing getting in your way."

Wilson took the comb in his hand and attempted to fix his hair in a rather perfected fashion.
“Until I’ve earned my parents respect, they will continue to treat me as such. I'm a thirty-two year old man, Mr Carter.” He said in defeat. 
“And their respect will never be earned, until then I remain to be their perfect little Percy.” Wilson proceeded to give Maxwell back the comb, and went to open the bathroom door to leave again. Not another word from the doctor after.

“Like I said, Doctor, there’s always a choice. Some are just… much harder to make.”
The magician nodded, put the comb where it belonged, moving to slice a lush rose from a nearby planter in the hallway. He seemed to have the flowers growing throughout the house, carefully maintained.
He turned to Wilson, replacing the near-stripped wilted rose in his jacket with the fresh one, full of life and blooming a vivid red to match the stain.

“Alas, the show must go on. Let us return to the stage.”

Chapter Text

Maxwell’s soft smile returned to the carefully pieced together public facade as the pair returned to the life of the party, Wilson letting his gaze fall upon the crowd of people amongst and around them as his hands found their way back politely behind his back, as if pulled there by some unseen force.  The music, the lights, the smell of too many people all hit at once as an affront onto the senses, reminding the magician of the headache lingering just at the edges of his mind. He cleared his throat, and turned to flash the scientist a charming but noticeably empty smile. “Will I be seeing more of you tonight, Doctor?”

“At this point I highly doubt you’ll be leaving me alone, might as well know my tragic tale of childhood.” Wilson stared over at the enormous overwhelming crowd in a rather bitter fashion, but cracked a slight smile. Sure enough, Mrs. Higgsbury could be heard from a distance as she quickly rushed over, dusting her son off in a hurry.

Mrs. Higgsbury herself was wearing a rather expensive emerald green dress, nicely fitted to match her figure and match her eyes and earrings. Her hair had been carefully tied back in a tight bun as if it were pulling at her scalp. From the looks of it, it couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
“Percival you’ve gone and ruined your good dress shirt, no eligible maiden is going to come near you dressed like this.” She pointed out in a frustrated demeanour, to which Wilson responded by smacking her hand off of him in disgust.

“How unfortunate.” He replied with a bitter undertone.

She retracted her hand, and refrained from saying something in the midst of her irritation, before remembering their host was currently, in fact, right beside them.
“Mr. Carter I see you’ve met my son, This is Wilson Higgsbury.” She had kept a firm grip on Wilsons shoulders, keeping him mounted in place where he stood. Wilsons demeanour seemed to be obedient yet deeply distressed, however it held a rather impressive mask of normalcy.

“A pleasure, Ma’am-”
Maxwell shot a charming smile in the direction of the woman, who struck him as looking not unlike a jewelled green beetle, all edges and sharp corners. He toyed for a moment with the mental image of crushing her under a thumb, as he pressed his lips to her gloved hand. She took the moment to pointedly look at Wilson, as if trying to impress upon him how a gentleman should behave.
Maxwell continued to speak as he rose back to his full height, towering above the Higgsburys.
“-your son has made a rather delightful impression on me already, you’ve raised a wonderfully charming and intelligent young man.”

“Well I’m certainly glad he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of you like he had moments ago-“ she said to Maxwell strictly through gritted teeth, glancing at Wilson afterwards. “Let me introduce you to my husband Mr Carter.” She begrudgingly offered with a grin. Wilson’s face looked even more distressed than before when she went to go catch him from the crowd. He had been seen talking to two other finely dressed women, boasting about himself in some sort of egotistical flirtatious manner, before his wife moved to drag him over in a very aggravated manner, although she seemed to be used to her husband's dishonesty this way.

Wilson’s father looked to be a worn man, but a well kept one when he needed to be. Despite the fact that he seemed to always carry with him the slight scent of booze, he was kept well dressed. He was wearing a black tux, his hair was an aged silver tint, and wore spectacles on the bridge of his nose. His moustache had grown to match his rather large egotistical appearance. He gave a rather sleazy grin, before reaching his hand out to shake Maxwell’s.
“A pleasure, Mr. Carter.”

“Ah, Mr Higgsbury-”
Maxwell gave a thin smile, his firm handshake accompanied by the extension of his prior mental image to include the grey-haired man as a wrinkled and discoloured stag beetle. A spark danced in his eyes as he resisted laughter.
“-It’s been some time, my little gatherings have started accumulating guests faster than I can greet them each night, I’m afraid.”

Mr. Higgsbury gave a thinned lipped smile.
“I see you’ve met my son” he said, glancing over at Wilson, who was standing on his fathers opposite side across the way next to Maxwell.

"Yes, he's rather charming company. We were having a wonderful discussion earlier, actually, before it was interrupted-"
Maxwell kept his shallow, charming smile on his face, but Wilson had seen a genuine smile from the man enough to know this didn't reach his eyes.
His fathers gaze sharpened as he looked over Wilson a moment.
“Percy, come here boy you’re so far away.”

Wilson’s eyes followed his fathers demeaning order, as he gritted his teeth into a sharp annoyed grin.
“I’m quite fine where I am, sir.”

When Wilson had moved to put his hands behind his back, his father gave a challenging glare. He lowered his hand to snap his fingers by his side, and pointed to the floor, not unlike one who would command a dog.
Wilson didn’t hesitate to move to stand next to his father after the unspoken command, despite how embarrassed he looked, before his father placed his hand on his shoulder somewhat firmly, his mother holding onto his other arm. Both parents seem to squeeze Wilson in place. Almost territorially.
“I’m sure he’s talked about his many years of schooling, he’s studying to become a doc-“
“-Lab technician” Wilson interrupted coldly.

Maxwell simply nodded politely, clasping his hands together.
“Yes, he did touch on the subject. We share quite a few interests, don’t we, Dr. Higgsbury?” The magician looked to Wilson, already tired of talking over him as if the man weren’t present at all. “What was it we were talking on earlier, our opinions on my selection of wines?” He threw the question to the scientist, trying to give Wilson an easy opening into the conversation.

Wilson seemed unperturbed by the treatment of his parents, his eyes wandering even as they spoke. However, at Maxwell’s question, they snapped back to focus. “Your god-awful selection of Selección.” He responded fast, which earned him both an amused chuckle from the host, and a hard squeeze on the shoulder from his father. 
His mother, however, tried to quickly correct him.

“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mean that really, he’s not much for the taste of wine I suppose.” She said nervously, glancing at Wilson as if begging him to behave. 
His father pitched in shortly.
“Quite the dipsomaniac if you ask me.”

Wilson’s anger only seemed to continue to seep through gritted teeth and a grin.

Maxwell’s nostrils flared for just a moment as he glanced over Wilson’s expression, his clasped hands wringing ever so slightly. His smile grew slowly, lips thin and eyes narrowing.

“You know-”

He started, as if a thought had just occurred to him. Speaking slowly, focusing still on the mental image of the couple before him as ornate but defenceless hard-shelled beetles scrambling in a bucket.
“-I happen to know a young lady who I’m sure would find the young Higgsbury a delight, if I may take him to introduce?”

Wilson’s face looked horrified at the offer, as if Maxwell had just asked to walk him down to Hell’s gates themselves. However, his mother looked thrilled with the idea.
“Oh that’s so awfully kind of you Mr. Carter I’m sure Percival would love that.” She answered quickly, not leaving any room to let Wilson protest before the decision was final. Wilson hesitated a moment, his words seemed to slip from his tongue before his father urged him by pushing him by the small of his back over towards their host.
“Go on boy.” His father responded, patting it after, which only made Wilson physically look as uncomfortable as he felt.

"This way, young Higgsbury, I'm sure the two of you will get along like wildfire-" Maxwell gestured, turning to move into the crowd. Expecting Wilson to follow.

Wilson hesitated if he should, however that would only risk making him look like a bigger fool than his parents had already miraculously demonstrated, but looked back at the both of them and only received their cold judgmental glare.
As Wilson gave a thick gulp, he walked to follow Maxwell as he was instructed to do begrudgingly. The last thing he wanted to do was have to talk with another woman for the night.

As the pair drifted further from earshot, Maxwell’s polite and charming smile faded, pulling slowly into an irate scowl for a moment before he managed to relax.

“Pricks.”

The sudden shift in tone caught Wilsons attention, finally glancing towards Maxwell properly.

Maxwell had near-spatted the word, taking a long breath to steady his tone. “Are they always like that, or am I just lucky?”

Wilson then moved to stare in front of him, casually slipping his hands within his suit jacket in a state of bitter annoyance, now that he was no longer surrounded by unwanted company. “They’re on their persistently aggravating best behaviour in public, they’re down right rotten at home.” He muttered putting his hands behind him once he pulled them from his pocket.

“I hope you know this will end just as poorly as the last woman I encountered tonight, Carter. I simply have no interest in meeting another good wretched person at this party.”

“There is no woman.”

A smile danced across Maxwell’s lips as he revelled in how awfully clever he was, his chin stuck out at his little game. Wilson seemed to instantly relax, taking twice as many steps to catch up to Maxwell’s long strides.
“I tried to appeal to them through suggestion, but either they’re too daft to clue on, or too insufferable to take it up. So, I spoke their language.”
Maxwell turned to walk backwards for a moment as he spoke to Wilson, using the moment to confirm they were well out of sight of the Higgsbury parents. “I don’t often like admitting defeat, but a draw will do nicely in situations I know I can’t win. I can be fluent in ‘insufferable’ when I want to be, it’s a good card to pull when my draw is lacking. Always keep several cards in your sleeve, Higgsbury, when such games demand-”

The host let out a small oof as his back collided with a pillar, rubbing the back of his head.

Wilson suppressed the snort he had almost made upon watching Maxwell for a moment break his charming demeanour due to his own clumsy behaviour. “I prefer not to cheat my way out of cards so to speak, but it came to my benefit this time, very sly Mr. Carter.” He said with a faint grin. Despite this, it quickly faded. “But unfortunately I cannot avoid my parents all night, if I don’t leave here with someone I’m sure I’ll be scolded mercilessly.” He answered.

"Well, we have an imaginary woman I'm apparently introducing you to.” Maxwell waved a vague hand, grinning as he spoke. He was still trying to fix his hair from the collision between words.
“Wouldn't it be lovely to have a story of dancing across the floor with a woman eager to meet you again next time? Of course, with the charming and honest Mr Carter as witness-!"

Wilson scoffed at the word honest.
“Do you have a room that’s a little less habitual?” He asked, looking around at the crowd of people, scanning to make sure his parents still remained out of sight.

“I’d certainly love to meet her in private. Get to know her a little more personally.” He spoke in a somewhat bold statement, although he was attempting to speak sarcastically, the smirk on his face persisted.

Is that-

Maxwell blinked, glancing at Wilson as if he'd said something jarring.

Is he-

"I could certainly give you a tour, if that's what you're asking-?"
The magician widened his closed-tooth grin, now carefully considering Wilson’s words.

Wilson seemed somewhat shocked by the offer, unaware of the change in heart of his companion.
“That’ll do.” He nodded as he ushered Maxwell onwards, hoping he wouldn’t have to run into his parents he knew were most likely lurking the party in hopes of catching a glance of Wilson with this “woman” Maxwell had cleverly formed from thin air.
“How big is your property, Mr Carter?”

"How big?”
Not very. But, I know what I’m doing with it-

“-Well, I moved here with the express plan to hold events like this, actually. The gardens span some ways in either direction, for... well, should anybody wish to explore that far in the dark."

-Stop it. Even if he was, he wouldn’t go for the likes of you.

Decently handsome, though. Would be better if he wore clothes he was comfortable in.

Maxwell cleared his throat, glancing away from Wilson for a moment.

“Sounds perfect, show me those, would you?''
Wilson settled with the option quickly, as he kept scanning the crowd carefully. It was apparent Wilson was in a hurry to leave before they were seen. “Little stroll in the rich man's park sounds lovely.“ He seemed to be speaking aloud to himself just to keep his mind distracted, staring around the room with a rather nervous glint.
He then proceeded to mindlessly tug on Maxwell's sleeve as he continued to dart his head back and forth around the room. “Best we leave?” The anxious tone in voice was now much more prominent.

Maxwell pulled away sharply, freezing for just a moment in a barely-concealed anger as he processed what had just happened.

“Hands off.”

He finally whispered, his words clearly an order.

Good work, Carter.  Even if you had a chance in hell, you just buried it to the bottom layer.

Wilson retracted his hand quickly, nodding wordlessly with a startled undertone to his facial expression. Completely unaware he had even grabbed onto the man's sleeve mindlessly.

“You do not touch me, unless I make it clear you may.”
The magician continued, before taking a long breath and adjusting his sleeve. The sharp tone fading, gentle once more.
“Apologies. You’re not in trouble, I was just startled. I dislike being touched, you couldn’t have known. Gardens are this way.”

“It’s a valid dislike to be touched by a stranger, I apologise, I was out of line.” Wilson spoke, somehow hiding his embarrassment with a stone cold face, holding his hands together to keep to himself.

"Appreciated."
Maxwell nodded, his eyes scanning the crowds for a moment.
He was still calming himself slightly from the startled snap, as if every hair on his body was standing pricked up. The magician found an opening in the wall of strangers, and gestured for Wilson to follow.

In an instant, his body language shifted from his confident stride, a playful smile overtaking his face as he ambled through the guests with a casual gait. His movements were seemingly directionless to the average onlooker, occasionally twisting to walk backwards or sideways to off-handedly greet strangers he passed as if he’d known them for lifetimes.
At the man’s own will, he’d dropped all air of importance to become invisible as he walked, one face in a blur of dozens.

Wilson followed closely, struggling not to lose Maxwell with the distance he kept to avoid accidental contact with the man again- now aware of the strength of the host’s dislike of such, he didn’t want to risk anything. The doctor walked silently, finally seeing Maxwell reappear at the edge of the crowd with his open and charming grin rapidly dropping to his earlier poised walk once more.

“Come, Higgsbury-”
The magician muttered as Wilson caught up, leading him out into the dark despite Wilson’s slight hesitation against such.

As the glamour of the crowd and lights faded behind them, the murky haze of evening mist opened into a carefully-maintained expanse of lawns, rose bushes and beds of wildflowers dotted with nighttime dew.
A path of stepping stones had been set into the grass, saving the men’s shoes from collecting water as they moved in a pair.

"Ever take much interest in gardening, Mr Higgsbury-?"
Maxwell hummed, re-lighting his stubbed cigar in a brief flash of light. The stars overhead reflected in his eyes as he watched the breeze carry away the smoke that tumbled from his lips, too dark to catch the hint of colour in his cheeks from the cold.

Wilson looked over at his company and followed when Maxwell gestured to his roses. Wilson finally turned to glance over the beds curiously, and in slight awe.
“Rose breeding has always been a hobby I wish to pick up on later in retirement, but I see you’ve taken a fancy to it as well.” he stated, never looking up from the beds of colour filled roses. He would admit, it was rather impressive.

“I wish this was my handiwork. No, no- I hire a gardener, I couldn’t keep a weed alive by myself. I’ve read all the books, looked into all the theories, I understand the idea of it. But, gardening is certainly not my forte.”

Maxwell waved off the assumption from the other man with a chuckle, coughing slightly from the cigar’s smoke.
“That said, the rose truly is a fascinating thing, so carefully constructed to hide such danger below.”

“Sounds familiar.”
Wilson didn’t elaborate further, or turn as he spoke, but appreciated the host’s taste for the finer things in life.
“So delicate, and subdued in most months-”

"-And only bloom in the right environment."
Maxwell hummed, gesturing for Wilson to follow further from the noise and light.

The hedgerows parted, a soft glow breaking through the low mist dancing between the legs of the two men. They were some ways out from the crowd now, the music faint against the buzzing of evening crickets. Past a willow-woven fence and gate, low candles lit a marble-strewn garden courtyard, the white stone seeming to glow in the flickering light.
Framing the ornate benches and marble cobbles, blooming roses and wildflowers provided an explosion of colour, young grass poking up from between the stonework at their feet.

Wilson stood for a moment in amazement to take it all in for himself, his breath stolen momentarily as his gaze traced each detail.
As he found himself a section to settle in, he slowly sank to sit carefully on one of the carved benches, folding his hands in his lap.
“You certainly put a lot of work into this garden.”

"It was mostly paying people." Maxwell admitted gently, walking through the lit clearing almost wistfully.
He so rarely came out here any more.
“But, I suppose, I designed every inch. I knew what I wanted, and it had to be perfect for her-”

The magician paused, clearing his throat. For once, it seemed his words hadn’t been so carefully planned.

Wilsons head turned upon the mention of a third party.
“Dare I ask who ‘her’ is?” He stated in a rather disinterested tone despite being the one to ask the question, keeping his hands in his lap as his thumbs fiddled with one another.

"Suppose you could."
Maxwell gave a small smile, the hint of embarrassment that danced on his tone seeming slightly out of character for the man.
"Her name is Charlotte, and this is where I'm going to ask her to marry me some day."

And there goes any last shred of hope for that little interest. Real mankiller you are, Maxwell Carter.

Wilson looked at Maxwell with a sudden look of disgust as he scrunched his nose slightly at the idea. The thought of marriage made him almost ill.
“Once you’re married your life changes forever, I hope you’re ready for that sort of burden-filled commitment.” He spoke in a rather pessimistic fashion towards the idea he wished not to entertain further.

"I wasn't ready, until her. So sure I'd never utter the words- Believe me, I agree with you. But she's... beyond words, Higgsbury. Nothing like the sort of woman you'd have met."

Wilson only looked back at the roses. He’d almost say he pitied Maxwell.
“Well, she must be one hell of a woman to have you spend this much money on her, every woman I meet bothers me to my wits end one way or another.”
He proceeded to fix his shirt collar slightly. “Mostly every one of them has wasted my precious breath and oxygen.”

“No, no, Charlie’s really different. Smartest person I’ve met, with the kindest heart you’ll ever see. She’s got… hair like the night sky, so black it’s almost blue. A smile that makes you feel like the only man in the world, and stubborn as fire itself. A beam of light in the shadows.”
Maxwell erupted for a moment into words of genuine passion, the boyish smile returning as he thought about the woman he was describing.

“And-”
The smile faded, the passion slipped from his voice.

“-I ruined it.”

Wilson watched the man for a moment, Maxwell’s confident air crumbling as his shoulders lowered, his gaze turned to the stars.
“That’s why you do this, isn’t it? Why you put yourself through these. No wonder a man who hates social gatherings has so many, you’re waiting for the right person to attend.” he placed his hands over his now crossed legs as he looked off in the distance.

“How sickeningly romantic.”

Maxwell gave an accepting shrug, and a sheepish smile.
“You caught me, the romantic, alone in his garden. She’s made quite the name for herself alone, with the… start her career had. I’ve seen some of her shows. But, no matter how hard I try, she will not entertain my words.”
He paused, looking around the courtyard for a moment. Weeds creeping in through the stonework, rose bushes outgrowing their planters.

“So I try, and try and try, any means I can think of. When that fails, I’ll try again.”

Wilson only scrunched his nose again.

How God awfully pathetic-

“Maybe she just enjoys playing hard to get, a woman that isn’t easy to catch is one worth the hunt” he said as he plucked off more petals on the rose that was pinned to his chest, letting the petals drop and fall slowly to the floor.

Maxwell seemed to return to himself at Wilson’s comment, as if remembering who it was he was talking to. For all his grandeur, the man didn’t seem to actually speak to people on a personal level often, much less have friends. He paused with his lips slightly parted, before clearing his throat.

“Well.”
He started, his public face returning.
“You’ve seen the gardens, I suppose. Are you out here to actually explore the grounds, or are you just after a place your parents cannot find?”

Wilson finally stood up slowly as he ran his fingers against the bench.
“If you insist.” He began walking with his hands behind his back, strutting the garden more. He walked through the pathways of roses and bushes as he delicately touched some of them.
He seemingly looked interested in them, they honestly were quite beautiful. Or at least interested enough to show his fascination with such.

Maxwell watched the man admire his flowers, trying to steady his own emotions from the earlier discussion.
"I do honestly think you'd find rose gardening interesting- the perfect intersection between chemistry and genetic sciences. With a healthy mix of... playing god, I suppose. I don't do much of it myself, but I've read into the process. Have to know something if I keep this many rose plants."

Wilson scanned the beds once more. “An interesting line of study, roses are a beautiful flower, although lilacs are preferred for me.” He ran his fingers gently over the flower petals. “It's that undercurrent of the ‘bottom note’ of fragrance that suggests decay and death,” he stated.
“Often a symbol to show the paranormal and deceased.”

"Roses represent the complexity of love-"
Maxwell plucked a yellow petal, dancing it between his fingers fluidly
"-perhaps I just enjoy the idea of that."

“Prepare to die disappointed, my friend.” Wilson answered bitterly, looking back over to Maxwell properly again. “Love is merely temporary, it isn’t scientifically accurate to be tied to one person the rest of your life, despite our society considers anything else taboo. Attachments only lead to heart ache, I’d rather get inebriated and fuck someone I can’t remember the name of the next morning than settle for a domestic life of misery.”

“You think I haven’t done my fair share of such, my good sir?” Maxwell chuckled. “Don’t presume my attachment comes from inexperience or incompetence.”

Wilson only turned his head. “If you insist, I doubt my mind will ever change on the subject, I’ve never touched lips to a lover and I’m sure if I did I’d grow an attachment to the wrenched feeling, so I cut it off at the source.” He crossed his arms slowly.
“Sickening talk of finding ‘the one for you’ because my good man no such person exists for me, women are more a chore to deal with.”

“You don’t need to lecture me, Higgsbury, I never asked you to change your mind. I simply suggested that you should be open to the idea that others mightn’t subscribe to the same values as you. You’re an awfully smart man, from what I can tell. It’s a pity that your mind is so closed.”

“I pity you, Mr. Carter.”
Wilson rolled his tongue in his cheek, strumming his fingertips on his crossed forearm as he looked off to the side away from Maxwell stubbornly. “And all the ones who fall victim to an emotion so vulnerable. I truly hope you prove my theory wrong with this keepsake woman of yours.”
He paused a moment.
“Until then I pity you.”

"I can see why you have trouble connecting with others, Higgsbury. You really have no care for what comes out of your mouth, do you? It's refreshing, if a touch jarring. I still can’t decide if I like it.” Maxwell said.

“The situation is simply not logical in my eyes. You will not catch me beating around the bush.” Wilson shrugged, pulling the rose out of his suit pocket carefully to examine it.

“How far has that honesty gotten you? It’s better to have love than fear, Higgsbury.” Maxwell asked rather simply, pausing to draw from his cigar slowly.“Why does your mother call you Percy?”

Wilson stopped for a moment to think over his answer.
“Wilson, P. Higgsbury” he said out loud firmly. “It stands for Percival. That’s the name I’m referred to in their presence.” he stated, then paused. “I don’t fear love.” he finished almost in hesitation.

"Your words, not mine. Will you be dragged to another of my events soon, Mr Wilson P. Higgsbury-?" Maxwell asked.

Wilson debated the question for a moment. “If I haven’t somehow tied the knot by then” he said.  He paused for a moment longer. “So take that as a yes.”

"...Good. I don't come across many tolerable individuals in such an environment- You're almost good company." Maxwell nodded.

For the first time the entire night, Wilson cracked a smile.
“I might almost say I like you Mr. Carter, I’ll admit I didn’t think you’d win me over, I assumed you’d be a charming business prick like the rest of these hosts. I was wrong.” he said, dusting off his chest piece.
“We should get a drink sometime.”

"I am a business prick, Higgsbury, the difference is that I do it well. I might take you up on that, I know a good place-"
Maxwell jested lightly, deciding he was at the very least entertained by the man enough to compensate for his sour attitude.

Wilson snickered slightly.n“Ah I see, you’re in disguise.” He continued to smooth his shirt down more.
“I would say you could ditch your own party and leave to go with me now, but that would be-“ he paused to look at his pocket watch, checking the time. “Unprofessional.” He finished sarcastically.

"You need a change of clothing before you step foot anywhere else.”Maxwell reminded sharply. “You smell of wine."

Wilson looked down upon himself as if he had almost forgotten he was in fact still stained with his earlier mistake.
“Oh- you would be correct.” He said, looking over his clothing. “Which reminds me of how late it’s getting-” He looked back at his watch once again. “-and I am rather indecently covered in alcohol.”

“Should I walk with you back to your parents, assure them you and this mystery woman got on well-?” Maxwell hummed, smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke.

Wilson merely nodded his head. “That would certainly be ideal” he stated, before he reached into his pocket for a moment.
“By chance do you have a pen Mr Carter?” He asked, starting to walk back with him

"A pen-? Not on me, but I could source one. Why for-?"

Wilson stopped for a moment.

“Oh, I need one for-“ he looked up, and reached behind Maxwell's head, before creating the illusion of making it seem as if he pulled one from thin air itself, presenting it to Maxwell’s view. “Oh goodness- there it was!” he smiled, taking out a slip of paper from his inside suit pocket, and jotting down on it. A neat trick of the hand he learned over the years.
He slid the card back over to Maxwell with his number and address presented on it. “Hopefully you’ll find use for this.”

The grin that slipped onto Maxwell's face was jarringly genuine, almost goofy from being caught off-guard.
"Nicely done, Higgsbury. Very nicely done." He chuckled, taking the card and tucking it into his own suit jacket.

Wilson merely smiled, pleased with Maxwell’s reaction. “The trick is to hide it under the sleeve, but I’m sure I don't need to explain the logic to your profession, magician.”
He said before he had reached to put his hand on his shoulder, but hesitates, drawing back awkwardly as he grinned and retracting his hand. Remembering his earlier mistake of touching Maxwell.

"Of course, you could use the sleeve-"
Maxwell pulled his sleeves back enough that they couldn't hide anything, taking the pen from Wilson. With a clap, it vanished. He moved, as if to pull the pen from behind Wilson's hair-
And instead pulled the rose that had been pinned to his suit, the pen now happily tucked where the rose had been.

Wilson froze when he somehow managed to replace his half ripped pocket rose with the pen, glancing around in an almost shocked awe. He did his best at attempting to hide it, but failing to really do so.
“Well I’ll be damned.”

He looked around, and back to the rose in his hand.
“You sly man.”

"Magic, Wilson Percival Higgsbury. It’s my job to create that feeling.” Maxwell winked, sticking the pen upright in Wilson's hair as he replaced his rose. “I forget that sometimes”

Wilson fixed his rose as he chuckled softly, smiling before playfully swatting away his hand. He grinned however, a sweet gesture

"Come on, Mr Higgsbury. Best I deliver you back to your loving parents." Maxwell chirped sarcastically, his pace quickening as he rubbed his hands together, finally giving up on the last of the cigar as they returned to the crowd. Wilson pulled the pen out carefully to place it back in his pocket as he walked with him, putting his hands back behind his head.

“It’s almost like I’m a four year old child again,” the scientist said sarcastically, “being escorted and everything.”

"Would you prefer me notassure your parents you were a perfectly charming young man-?" Maxwell threatened lightly.

Wilson snickered rather gently with a soft smile, as he crossed his arms. “I’m merely being sarcastic, my good man.” he teased,looking around the place once more to scan the area. When he spotted his parents amongst the crowd, he walked up finally, keeping Maxwell at a close safe distance just in case. It seemed he had already grown more fond of the company he had sworn he wouldn’t fall for.

"Mister and Mrs Higgsbury, hello again!"

The shallow, charming air Maxwell was good at turning on like a switch returned, and his hand moved to rest on Wilson's shoulder. "Back safe and sound, the poor woman had to leave when her brother did. But I must say, the two of them were talking for some time about Wilson's scientific work, she found it fascinating. Hopes to meet up again." Maxwell paused for a moment, before adding in, "Poppy, wasn't it Higgsbury? Poppy Sarafin."

The Sarafin were certainly a well-known family name in the area, high enough to garner respect, and large enough that an invented daughter could be bluffed away.

Wilson turned back over and jumped in on the facade almost immediately, shockingly naturally. “I believe so Mr. Carter, fine young wo-“ he began, before his mother interrupted with a grin as she dusted Wilson off impulsively, like a collectors doll collecting dust on a display shelf.
“Oh that’s such wonderful news, my dear precious Percival.” She patted his cheeks, gaining a look of annoyance from her son from the demeaning gesture.

"Come to think of it, I never asked- Mrs. Higgsbury, exactly how old is your son?" Maxwell asked, the hint of a pointed tone.

Mrs. Higgsbury glanced up at Maxwell when she was asked Wilson's age, now clearly aware her actions could have been read as rather demeaning to her grown son. However, her husband stepped in to slap Wilson on the back firmly, playfully at best but made Wilson stumble forward when he wasn’t ready for it, losing his balance slightly.
“Old enough to buy himself a drink!” His father exclaimed in a joking tone, but only seemed to piss Wilson off even more.

"In this day and age, sir, that's really not a hard and fast line. I'm in showbusiness." Maxwell smiled, trying to keep the distaste from his expression

Wilson, despite the banter, grinned in irritation. “It’s late- and I’m covered in tonight’s beverage, I’d very much enjoy being excused to go home for the night.” he said through gritted teeth and a charming grin.
His mother nodded her head rather quickly at the suggestion, ushering Wilson towards the exit.
“Yes indeed, you look horrendous.” she bitterly mentioned, giving Wilson no room to protest changing his mind, only giving Maxwell a parting glance.
“Until next time, Higgsbury family-”
Maxwell shot a charming smile in farewell to the trio, his eyes already wandering across the stragglers of the winding-down party.

Wilson had looked back for only a moment as his mother ushered him out, words dying on his tongue as the magician turned to seek out his new evening entertainment- tonight, a group of young and eager gentlemen, who Maxwell had all privately introduced to the same woman. He was looking forward to seeing how the ensuing dramatics would play out.

When Wilson had finally arrived home, he had parted ways from his company to finally be amongst himself. Moving first to take a shower, and rinse his hair carefully, and attempted to get the scent of wine out of his skin, for which he reeked of it.

After dressing accordingly for bed, he scanned his personal library, dancing his fingertips amongst the sole bindings of his collections to find something to read for the night, taking one after a moment's debate with himself and moving to slip into bed.

Wilsons mind kept pondering over his host though, despite how much he attempted to focus on the words written in the pages in front of him. It was the first time someone had actually been worth Wilson’s time to talk to, and he valued his time very greatly. He put his book down on his chest as he looked back out the window for a moment to light his pipe and smoke, and to ponder visually.

After a moment's break to himself, he read until he slept, passing out by morning with the book sprawled over his eyes by early that evening, snoring rather indecently. It was safe to say Wilson pondered quite a lot that evening, and even more so in his dreams.