“You certainly are sly,” he said in his best effort to exude aristocracy. He tried to recall when it had arrived. He struggled to remember most things these days. Their dark beady eyes met.
The two were fixed in a gaze, only to be interrupted by the housekeeper gently sweeping the heavy velvet curtains aside. The light from the vibrant azure skies poured through the windows, and the creature’s eyes darted over the room’s now lit features. Bored, he twisted his fingers around the rim of the goblet teeming with wine. His fingertip screeched against the crystal rim. The fox winced, its ears standing at attention. The man curiously observed, not realizing he too was being watched.
His lanky limbs mechanically moved, clenched with tension. His stiff stature swayed and his speech slurred when he snobbishly spoke. His coattails were starched so heavily that they resembled cement. Wiry, ginger hair framed his face in congealed clumps.
“How ludicrous to be standing in the company of a woodland creature,” the man thought. “How strange it’s bipedal position.” He became consumed with the curious predicament he was in. Just as he began to get lost in his thoughts he snapped back to reality. “Perhaps I’ve had a bit too much,” he thought shamefully to himself tipping the glass back and forth.
“Perhaps you have,” the fox hissed back. The two stood silently, caught in a sinister stare. He gurgled his next sip for a few seconds, wondering how the fox understood his silent self-scrutiny. “Share a sip?” the creature requested with a courteous cackle.
Conceding, he bobbed his head towards the glass for a final slurp. The ocher-haired limb reached out in anticipation, and as the man finished his sip he glanced at the expectant fox. Its lips curled, contorting their feral flaps in to what resembled a grin. Its jagged ivories subtlety exposed, the man promptly passed his chalice.
The man opened his eyes. His glass barely hung from his loosened grip. The sanguine swill beat against the wood floor in rhythmic splats. With swift mechanical movement he propelled himself to the open window. He flung the goblet’s remainder on the yard below. As he retired back to his cushy leather lounge, the housekeeper offered to refill his glass. His memory ignited, and he wistfully recalled his encounter with the auburn coated beast.
“Perhaps I’ve had enough,” he humbly declared.
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