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Drumknott was sitting and staring at the door to the Oblong Office when one of the maids emerged from within, pushing a trolley with a dining cloche perched on top.
He jumped to his feet. “Just a minute, please, Elspeth!”
The maid stopped and looked at him worriedly. “Mister Drumknott? Is everything alright?”
The secretary skittered around his desk. “Yes, fine. Just…excuse me a moment…” He lifted the steel dome and frowned down at the plate of food for a second before carefully replacing the cover. “Ah. Thank you.”
He waved the confused woman away, and then dithered for a moment. His lordship had fifteen minutes free before his next appointment, after which he would be tied up with meetings for the rest of the day.
He didn’t dare leave it any longer.
Pressing his lips together, he knocked on the office door and entered at Vetinari’s invitation.
Without allowing himself time to overthink it, he crossed to stand in front of the large oak desk. Vetinari looked up from his paperwork and raised a neat eyebrow.
“Yes, Drumknott?”
"Why haven't you been eating?"
Vetinari stared at him. Drumknott fidgetted, and then added an awkward, “Sir.”
The other man tapped his pen thoughtfully on the desk a couple of times, and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Drumknott shook his head. “Please, don’t do that. Do you think I would be mentioning it if I weren’t absolutely certain? I’ve seen every tray that’s come out of this room in the last three days, sir. Every plate has been practically untouched.”
Vetinari frowned slightly, and pushed himself up from his chair. He walked slowly to the large window and stared out at the city, clasping his hands behind his back.
“I hadn’t realised you were paying such close attention to my diet.”
“I pay close attention to everything.”
“Really? Everything?”
Drumknott hesitated before answering. “Everything pertaining to you. Sir.”
“Ah.” Vetinari furrowed his brow, but didn’t turn. “Perhaps I am keeping you insufficiently busy, if you have time to involve yourself in my business so closely.”
“My lord, you are trying to change the subject.”
There was a protracted silence from beside the window. Drumknott took a step closer to the man.
“Three days,” he murmured. “Ever since that business with the ambassador –”
“I do not wish to discuss that.”
“It was not your fault, sir. You couldn't possibly have anticipated the outcome –”
Vetinari whirled to face him, his expression dark. “Stop this.”
“No! Somebody needs to say it, sir!” Drumknott paused, steeling himself against Vetinari’s glare. “I need to say it. It was tragic, I know; a deplorable outcome. But you blame yourself for something you had no possible control over. And I think now you are punishing yourself.”
“Rufus – ”
“I’ve said nothing when you have punished yourself so in the past; I’ve always held my tongue because I know – believe me my lord, I know – how highly you value your privacy. But I am no longer willing to allow you to do this to yourself. I…” Drumknott caught himself, his cheeks flushed with colour. “The city needs you strong and healthy. Not starving yourself out of some erroneous sense of guilt.”
He was breathing heavily by the end of his tirade, Drumknott realised, and he forced himself to settle back. Vetinari was pinning him with a stare that made him feel as though his every thought was written on his forehead. “I’m sorry, sir,” he muttered, not quite meeting the other man’s eye. “For the tone, but not the sentiment.”
Vetinari continued to stare at him for a moment longer, and then he let out a faint sigh. His shoulders dropped and suddenly he looked tired and drawn.
“Rufus,” he murmured. “Your worries are misplaced.”
“No, sir. I know what I have observed.”
Vetinari looked faintly amused at that. “Your observations…are correct, perhaps. To an extent. It is not quite as straightforward as you suggest, but I have no intention of explaining beyond that, I am afraid.” He paused before continuing, quietly. “What I mean is; you should not waste your worries on me. I am unworthy of them.”
Drumknott frowned, and opened his mouth for a moment as he tried to find a response. “You are more worthy of them than anyone else I know, my lord.” He saw the expression that flitted across Vetinari’s face before the man had a chance to control it, and instinctively he took another step towards him.
And then his hand reached out without any conscious thought attached to the action, and came to rest on Vetinari’s forearm.
As soon as he felt the fabric of the robe beneath his fingers Drumknott froze, and for a minute the two men stared down at the single point of contact between them; a horrendous breach of etiquette that Drumknott knew he would forever be waking from dreams about in a cold and clammy sweat.
The clock on Vetinari’s wall chimed the hour and broke the spell. Drumknott started, and moved to pull his hand back as if scorched. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir – ”
But Vetinari moved like a snake; before the secretary had fully released his grip on him the patrician had darted out his own hand and wrapped his long fingers tightly around Drumknott’s wrist. Drumknott felt himself held firmly in place, and then Vetinari took another step in to close the distance between them.
“No,” the patrician murmured. “There is no need to apologise. I am not so delicate that a touch might break me.”
Drumknott felt his heart beat wildly in his chest; he could smell Vetinari’s sandlewood soap from this proximity and the intimacy of it was intoxicating. “I don’t…no, I didn’t think…” He shook his head helplessly. “I didn’t think it might break you, sir.”
Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
Drumknott felt his cheeks redden violently, now. “You…you have an appointment, sir,” he said hoarsely. “Lord Downey.”
Vetinari sighed, and peered down at Drumknott’s wrist; a moment later he felt the man’s thumb slip beneath the cuff of his shirtsleeve and stroke the taut skin above his thrumming pulse.
His breath caught in his throat, but as soon as it had started it was over, and Vetinari was withdrawing. The patrician took a step backwards, and Drumknott saw that the mask had slipped neatly back into place.
“Thank you, Drumknott. Show him in when he arrives, please.” Vetinari took his place at his desk again, and began shuffling papers.
Drumknott cleared his throat, and gathered himself. “Yes sir. And I will have the kitchen send up a sandwich when you are done with him.”
The papers stilled for a fraction of a second, and then the soft rustling resumed as Vetinari muttered, “Very well.”
Drumknott felt something inside him unclench, and he slipped quietly out of the room. Out in the corridor he leaned against the wall for a minute, his head resting beside a particularly large dent left by Vimes, and got a firm grip on himself.
Then he straightened up, put the scent of sandlewood out of his mind, and went to find Downey.