skeezan

*DING DING* It seems My Lady still requires service tonight. With a short sigh I put the browning brush down and drop the porcelain pot back into the dank slop sink in front of me. Though I never enjoy staying down here in the handmaid’s cupboard for long even if it is where I spend most of my time pangs of unease reach me the second I hear My Lady’s call. I had retired her for the night not forty minutes ago and she’s never called for me so late. I pace outside of the cupboard and into my bedroom next door (small little stone room in the basement but I have lived far worse) and grab a spritz of imported french cologne (which I have nearly worked off my payment for) and a clean shirt. My Lady has little patience for tardiness, she tells me "Only the punctual are deserved.” however she also tells me “To be uncouth in public is to be criminally deranged.” so I always give myself time to look presentable. She gives me so many lessons like this on how to behave if I am to ingratiate