Mihail was not the kind of person who had friends.

Well, perhaps he had two, but he did not entirely consider Atalanta and Leontios his friends so much as he did a pair of acquaintances who tended toward doing as they were told, which was a dynamic that suited him far better than the give-and-take of friendship. It was easiest, then, to attribute a lack of friends to a lack of desire for anything of the sort rather than truth, which was that he was not the most agreeable sort and, hence, most were not inclined to form close bonds with him outside of those in his immediate family or those who saw something to gain from the connection.

That, however, was not the case with Lady Chara of Stravos. High-born and wealthy in her own right, she had no need of the clever connections that came from considering herself close to the Thanasi, and she naturally appeared to share an interest in all those things that best suited Mihail. Fashion, gossip and jewellery were all in her wheelhouse, so to speak, and in being a fine woman herself, she knew plenty of fine men and women in which Mihail held his own interests. As friends went, she was an excellent candidate, and on those few occasions when they found themselves capable of interacting, he was never displeased to spend time with Chara.

While he was in Athenia, they were enjoying some time together, relaxing on a pair of kline as they indulged in all the latest gossip of the court, which was, by far, Mihail’s favoured subject. His legs were curled beneath him, sandals lying haphazardly abandoned on the floor as thought they were not expensive, and the elegant fabrics of his chiton folded in a manner that still appeared to flow delicately over the edges of the couch. One eyebrow was raised in amusement as Chara recounted her tale, and he supplemented the story whenever he thought appropriate with brief interjections and commentary of his own. His nails — only just tinted a new shade of crimson — glinted in the light as he tapped them against the stem of his goblet.

Mihail was about to make some disparaging remark about the girl in question when Chara suddenly jerked in place and began to chastise her. He watched with half-hooded eyes, his expression utterly nonchalant as she disciplined the slave, as though it were a thoroughly normal act — in a way, of course, it was, given the aggression with which he did the same to his own staff. When she was done, he waved a hand dismissively in response to her words. “As you should. I do not know why anybody ever tolerates incompetence.”

Putting aside the thought with a flick of the wrist, Mihail moved seamlessly back to their gossip. “That girl’s face. Awful. But what did she expect, daring to appear in court wearing such a shameful excuse for a chiton. Gods, I was practically humiliated for her. And when they mistook her for a commoner, of all things…” He trailed off, unable to surprise the laughter that followed the memory. “Thank goodness you and I are always dressed to perfection. Your gown at that last court session was a beauty.”