Emotional Support

This was astronomically far from a setting he wanted to be in. Normally Lennox sat out this whole masquerade business and stuck to the cosprouts at the ranch - where he wished he was right now - but when that timid letter arrived, he knew he had no other choice.
So he stayed close to the doorway and hoped his demeanor would ward off other cossetlings while he waited for Malcolm. Fortunately, his scowl was visible even under his lamba-inspired mask. Though his arms were crossed, he could still fiddle with the pin of his sash that matched the tartan of his formal kilt, as it was pinned to the shoulder of his suit jacket. The thick fur of the formal sporran was befitting of the lamba mask, and had been meticulously fastened.
Lennox didn’t care about what the other attendees of the masquerade thought, but his tail would wilt before he let Malcolm think he wasn’t worth this effort. He couldn’t let him down, and so Lennox tried his best to be presentable.
A masked blue killy entered Lennox’s peripheral vision before he recognized Francis’s glare from under his little mask. The herald’s haughty, disapproving glare swept across the crowd until he noticed Lennox wave to him. With a huff, Francis trotted his way over with a wave of his tail that Lennox assumed was meant to signal Malcolm a “safe” path through the crowd.
“Malcolm far behind ye, Francis?”
“Lennox! I do hope you haven’t been waiting long-”
Hearing his voice, Lennox’s eyes darted up to look at Malcolm. Dressed to the nines, his masquerade outfit seemed to be an enhanced version of the already high quality suits Malcolm typically wore.
His mask was clearly inspired by Francis, pale blue but accentuated with golden filigree. His cape was dark blue and starry, clasped to his blue suit jacket with gold pins that resembled his flower. Underneath the jacket, a golden vest peeked out, further concealing a white ruffled shirt. The ruffled cuffs of the shirt edged out from his jacket sleeves. His straight legged dress pants were a shade of blue in between the jacket and the cape, with white and blue dress shoes. His pale blue braids were largely swept back into a ponytail with a few at the front framing his face.
In the second it took Lennox to process this, his ability to speak had dissipated until he felt Francis nudge him.
“Ah, dinnae ye worry. I wasn’t waitin’ that long fer ye.”
The soft warmth of Malcolm’s relieved smile almost made the masquerade feel worth it.
“That’s a relief. Still, I hate to have made you wait at all. I know you aren’t a fan of crowds, and I really appreciate you coming with me. As fate would have it, I ran into one of the publishers outside.”
Lennox cast a glance of amused suspicion to Francis. “Causin’ problems already are ye?”
Francis huffed his defense, swiftly turning his gaze up and away from Lennox. Malcolm and Lennox chuckled, exchanging knowing glances.
“Oh, he wasn’t too much trouble,” Malcolm insisted. “It went fairly well, though I dread the rest of the socializing for tonight - the things we do for what we love, hm?”
Uncrossing and re-crossing his arms with an embarrassed flick of his ear, Lennox shrugged. “Cosprouts’re simpler than appealin’ tae publishers an’ all these high an’ mighty types.” With a little hesitance, he extended a hand to Malcolm, voice gentler. “Well, worry about that later. Let’s get ye somethin’ tae eat before ye have tae deal with them in full swing, ay?”
Again with a warm, starlit smile, Malcolm took his hand. “Thank you, Lennox.”