The morning could not have come sooner for Jimmy. He'd tossed and turned and had been woken up twice in the night by bizarre, fitful dreams, which he couldn't recall upon awakening. He'd spent the rest of the time in a half-awake state, mulling over the mysterious dread that had gripped him ever since last night's conversation with Thomas.

Finally, he'd managed to fall asleep right before dawn...only to be woken up once more, this time by Alfred who was shirtless and had shaving soap all over his face. He'd barged into Jimmy's room like that, and asked to borrow his straight edge.

Jimmy had refused to give it to him then out of pure spite, and they'd proceeded to get into a loud argument over it, during which Jimmy gave up the pretense of sleeping, and got out of bed to get dressed. It was only until Thomas walked by the wide-open door and saw Jimmy, bent over with his trousers half on one leg, and Alfred, with shaving lather dripping down his neck and chest, that they had both stopped, realizing how ridiculous they looked.

Alfred had also then had the gall to appear highly scandalized by Thomas' seeing his shirtless form, and made to cover himself up like some poor maiden protecting her virtue. For some reason, that had made Jimmy even angrier, and he'd snapped, "Come off it Alfred, even he's not interested in that," before he could think any better of it. There had followed then an extremely loaded silence, because Jimmy had just mentioned the Thing That No One Dare Speak Of, and- he looked over at his alarm clock- good God, it was only half six in the morning.

Really, if this was any example of what the day was going to be like, then Jimmy desperately wished, in that moment, to go crawl beneath the snow outside and wait out the spring. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option for him. Alfred himself chose to flee the scene, side-stepping Thomas, who only looked vaguely unimpressed at all that he had just witnessed.

That had left Jimmy alone with him, and it was only until Jimmy had followed Thomas' gaze downwards, that he'd realized his trousers were still on the floor, pooled around his right leg. And despite the chill in the air, Jimmy felt his face flood with heat. Mortified, he hastily bent down and pulled them up. When he glanced back towards the doorway, however, he saw that Thomas was already gone.

Jimmy, now fully dressed, then turned to look at himself in the mirror, and examined the bags under his eyes. Idly, he'd wondered if he could just skip breakfast…and maybe work, too. But he groaned and steeled his nerves, knowing he'd just have to suffer through it. Reluctantly, he set about getting ready to face the day.

Breakfast went off uneventfully enough. Jimmy sat down next to Thomas, as per usual, although neither said much to the other- that is, other than a brief, "Pass the toast?" from the other man. Jimmy complied wordlessly, and then settled for concentrating on his poached egg throughout the meal. He thought that it stared at him too much, with its yellowy pupil, so he poked at it with his fork, until the yolk ran. Jimmy wasn't really hungry after that.

Alfred sat directly across from him, alternating between grinning, and making eyes at Ivy, and glaring at Jimmy over the platter of scones separating them. Jimmy however didn't deign to look back at him, as he refused to participate in such juvenile behavior. He didn't catch the concerned look that Thomas sent his way, too busy poking at his now scrambled egg.

Anna brought up the topic of the new housemaid set to arrive later that day, and Mrs. Hughes set to fill her in on the details. They got to chatting about general work that needed to be done, and about how Anna was quite glad that they'd be getting some extra help, as it was especially hard to keep things tidy with the young Master George and Miss Sybil at hand, and...Jimmy tuned them out, choosing instead to look over out the window at the gathering clouds in the sky.

Overall, the meal itself went by relatively fast, and Jimmy thought that hopefully, the rest of the day would follow suit. It was not to be, though; as soon as they'd started to get up from the table, an unfamiliar young woman stepped into the room, saying, "Hello, do excuse me, I didn't mean to interrupt. My name Margaret Evans," she hesitated, then continued, "Is there a Mrs. Hughes in?"

She was very pretty, with big hazel eyes, a delicate little nose, and wavy hair the color of wheat, pulled back into a loose bun. A few stray curls escaped from it to frame her delicate, heart-shaped face. She also had a very…ample bosom, obvious even underneath the modest housemaid's uniform that she wore. The sense of dread from last night returned, and bloomed in Jimmy's chest once more.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy saw Alfred's jaw go slack. Ivy saw it too, and first her eyes widened, then narrowed. Jimmy rolled his eyes. To his right, he spied Thomas looking on with mild disinterest. Jimmy just managed to hold back a smirk at that.

Mrs. Hughes quickly stepped forward and greeted her, "Ah, Margaret, dear. We weren't aware you'd be so early! Mr. Carson and I were made to believe that you'd be arriving later this afternoon?"

"Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, a pleasure to meet you in person," the maid, Margaret, smiled cordially up at them. "I was bound to take the later train, only they had a scheduling conflict of sorts. Said they could move me up to the earlier, overnight train, if I were able, as there was an opening on it, y'see" she explained. "I'd have sent word 'round to you about it, only it all happened very last minute," she added, apologetically.

"I see. Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with arriving a wee bit early to work, is there, Mr. Carson?" Mrs. Hughes smiled back at her.

A curt "Indeed," was the extent of Carson's reply.

"Come now, let's get you settled in," Mrs. Hughes continued, introducing her to everyone.

"This is Daisy, she's assistant cook to Mrs. Patmore," she offered, "And this is Ivy, one of our kitchen maids, along with Alfred, one of our footmen."

Daisy smiled at her, and said, "Pleased to meet you,", and Ivy offered a tight-lipped, "Hello."

When Alfred failed to respond, Ivy nudged him in the side, startling him into action. "Er, hello, then," he stuttered, earning a reproving glance from Carson.

Mrs. Hughes wisely decided to move on, saying, "And this is Jimmy, he's a footman as well, and here's Thomas Barrow, our under butler."

"Hello, Jimmy," she said. He inclined his head towards her, offering a polite smile.

Margaret then turned to Thomas, and said, "Mr. Barrow," smiling sweetly. Very sweetly. Jimmy decided right then that he didn't like her much.

Thomas offered a neutral, "Hello," right back to her, and Jimmy decided that actually he very much disliked her. And then she blushed quite prettily at him, and Jimmy hated her.

"Blimey," Alfred muttered, earning another sharp glare from Ivy, and a raise of the eyebrow from Carson.

"Right, Margaret," interjected Mrs. Hughes, taking her arm gently, "You'll be rooming with Heather, she's another housemaid; she'll be able to help you with almost anything. I'll show you upstairs, shall I?" They made their way out of the hall, but not before Margaret managed to get one last shy glance back Thomas' way, just before they both disappeared. Jimmy's brow furrowed, and he had to make a conscious effort not to clench his fists.

Somehow, the day had gotten worse. Much worse.

Daisy looked from Thomas, to the doorway the new maid had just left through. "Well," she said. She looked from Ivy to Alfred, wringing her hands, "I…"

She caught Jimmy's eye. "Oh," she said again, and this time a little bit sadly. Outside the window, snow began to fall.

"Oh, shut your big mouth, would you!" Ivy snarled at Alfred. Alfred snapped his jaw shut.

Thomas turned to Jimmy, and said, "Looks like Lady Mary won't be able to have that bloody picnic o' hers," he nodded towards the window, "Not in this weather, I hope."

Jimmy looked out at the flurry of snow, and replied with a flat, "S'pose not." He looked up at Thomas, who raised an eyebrow at his morose response. Daisy stood behind him, very clearly pretending not to listen as she gathered up plates. Jimmy made a vague excuse about leaving something upstairs, and hastily left the room.

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by in a rush, but as the work dwindled, and his daily duties were all taken care of, Jimmy found himself at a loss as to what he should do next.

He'd avoided Thomas all day, which wasn't all that hard, except during the family's mealtimes, and then during their own. He'd stayed out of the servant's hall all day, and later on had purposefully arrived late to dinner, reluctantly slipping into the same seat beside Thomas. Jimmy didn't attempt to talk to him, nor, for that matter, anyone else.

Margaret was there, as Jimmy had known she would be. Jimmy didn't know why he hated her. Honestly, the least he'd ever felt towards any of the other maids was indifference, and the most, a slight disdain. Jimmy sighed inwardly, pushing a piece of chicken around on his plate.

Margaret had sat herself across from Daisy, which, incidentally, had put her just to the right of Thomas. Jimmy wished he'd sat in between them. All throughout dinner, she'd tried in vain to engage Thomas in conversation, saying things like, "Oh, being under butler must be so exciting!", and whispering, "My, it must be so demanding,", or, Jimmy's favorite, "I see, so you're directly underneath Mr. Carson, then?"

Thomas, to his credit, hadn't so much as blinked an eye at that last one. Carson overheard it though, and choked on his tea.

Also to Thomas' credit, he tried to make small talk with Jimmy, but Jimmy only responded in terse, one-word sentences. For several minutes they went on like that, until Thomas finally gave up on him altogether, and focused on his food.

Unable to take anymore, Jimmy sneaked out early. Ivy and Daisy had started bickering loudly over who'd be tasked with washing the pots afterwards. Mrs. Patmore was in the midst of telling them to settle down, or else she'd make sure they'd "both get a pot upside the head," when Jimmy made his escape. He was almost positive that no one had seen him leave.

Half an hour or so later found Jimmy, sitting pensively on a wooden crate stacked alongside a wall adjacent to the kitchen entrance. It was cold- very cold. A frigid breeze had begun to pick up, but at least the snow had stopped falling. Jimmy shivered and regretted not bringing a coat with him.

Thomas was just around the corner, smoking. He had been there for the past ten minutes or so. Jimmy had heard the creak of the kitchen door when he came out, and every now and then would catch a whiff of cigarette smoke wafting by. And Jimmy felt silly, really, just sitting there sulking, whilst Thomas stood nearby, unaware of his presence...

"Right then," his voice shook Jimmy from his gloom, "Are you going sulk there all night?"

Jimmy hesitated, before asking, "How'd you know I was here?"

"Because," Thomas said from his spot over by the door, "I saw you leave, you ninny."

"Oh," Jimmy felt even sillier now.

"Can I come around, or are you going to run away if I do?" Thomas asked.

"No don't," again, Jimmy's mouth spoke before he could stop it. Thomas said nothing, and Jimmy felt a pang of guilt, imagining how badly the other man might have interpreted that.

There was quiet for a while, as Jimmy watched the steam from his breath rise up and dissipate into the grey winter sky. It was already growing dark, though the moon was nowhere to be found tonight, hidden behind the thick layer of clouds present.

"You weren't there, but Alfred tried reciting poetry to Ivy before dinner. Tryin' to appease her, like," Thomas spoke again, making Jimmy jump. He'd thought Thomas had left.

Jimmy took a moment to ask, "…What poem?"

"'I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud'," Jimmy could practically hear Thomas trying and failing to keep a straight face. Against his will, he smiled a bit, too.

"No…how bad was it?" Jimmy asked.

"I'll spare you the details, but he made it 'bout three lines in, got them all wrong, and gave up," Thomas said.

"Oh God," Jimmy said, unable to hold back a grin.

"It was awful," Thomas agreed, and Jimmy could picture him- inhaling on his cigarette, cheeks hollowing, his lips pursed around- Jimmy hopped up off of the crate, and shook his head quickly. 'What am I thinking now?'

"Although, he didn't appreciate it when I told him so," Thomas finished, sounding much closer now. Jimmy jumped, and spun around, almost slipping on the snowy ground. There was Thomas, leaning on the wall directly behind him. Thomas dropped his cigarette, and started forward, as if to catch him. But Jimmy steadied himself, and the other man relaxed again. He still looked concerned, though.

"You look like you barely slept a wink," Thomas told him, "And you've been in a weird mood all day…weirder than usual, that is." Jimmy said nothing.

"You hardly ate at all," Thomas added, tone disapproving.

Jimmy swallowed. "I have been feeling off," he assented. "Sorry."

"Did...if I…if I did something to…?" Thomas hesitated.

Jimmy shook his head, "No," he tried, but Thomas spoke over him.

"If I did, well you could tell me, and I'd, well, I haven't, I thought…" It was unsettling seeing Thomas so…unsure of himself. Jimmy felt bad for making him feel that way, for making him worry that he'd done something wrong again.

"No," Jimmy spoke louder this time, "It's me, I've been…weirder than usual, like you said." He grinned up at Thomas. "I just need to get some sleep, is all."

Thomas didn't look convinced, but he let it go. Jimmy carefully walked over and leaned on the wall next to him, and they were almost touching. It was almost completely dark, and Jimmy once more mourned leaving his coat inside. His nose was numb, and his hands were stiff.

Together, they stood and watched their breath emerge in icy clouds that mingled together high above, floating off into the ether.

"Daisy dropped a pie 'bout right after you left," Thomas informed him, "It exploded all over the floor."

Jimmy laughed, "I knew somethin' happened alright. Could hear Mrs. Patmore shrieking from out here."

Thomas grinned, "Right. So I had to make my getaway. Barely escaped with me life, I did." He was making an excuse for following Jimmy out, and they both knew it. But Jimmy didn't mind, because he'd been an arse to Thomas all day, and here the man was, worried for him.

"Think it's like to start snowin' again?" Jimmy asked him.

"I don't doubt it," Thomas said, into the now complete darkness. "S'bloody cold," he muttered. "I'm going back in, and if you had any sense, you'd come, too."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy tried to say it mockingly, but his teeth were chattering too hard. He was glad Thomas couldn't see.

They felt their way back to the entrance slowly, tracing the wall with their hands, and treading cautiously along the slick ground. Thomas opened the door for him, and said, "Let's skip the cards tonight."

"Why, afraid of losing, are ya?" Jimmy goaded him, brushing past. The residual warmth in the kitchen washed over him, a blessed relief. Almost immediately, Jimmy began to notice feeling creeping back into his numb hands and face.

"What, to you?" Thomas said, closing the door behind them, "Ha! Now that's a laugh." Jimmy huffed good-naturedly at his jibe. They talked some more as they headed up, taking Jimmy's mind off of things for a moment or two.

But when Jimmy found himself alone in his room, stress overtook him once more. He thought of life, and tomorrow, and of the days that would invariably follow, all hazy and unclear. Of housemaids with golden hair and charming looks. Eventually, Jimmy fell asleep, with a heavy heart and a weary mind. He dreamt of egg yolks that blinked uneasily down at him, as he casually polished silverware with the Dowager Countess.

"Why, do you suppose," he pondered, handing her a salad fork, "They look so unhappy?" He nodded towards the yolks.

"Because," she answered him, lips pursed. "They're afraid of someone taking their silverware away. They're convinced that all they could do is watch."

"Oh," he said. "That makes sense, then."

"Naturally," she huffed.