The cup hit the wall with a satisfying crash, followed by a plate thrown with such force that it cut through one of the tapestries, part of it becoming imbedded in the rough plaster behind it, the shattered remains falling to the floor.
Linden covered his mouth to hide him amused smile, saying sternly from behind it, "Someone had better chill out."
Pierson hissed, picking up another cup, studying it for a long moment before he hurled it after the first one. "I'll chill when I'm dead and not before. And that's a long ways off."
"Not that far off," a deep voice said angrily. "Not if you keep destroying original Meissen tableware, Piers."
Piers rolled his eyes.
"What has you so upset this time?" Roderick inquired, looking at his recalcitrant Child.
Linden snickered. "His most recent conquest decided he was tired of spending his nights at the clubs."
"Just what's wrong with clubs? They're alive, exciting and filled with all sorts of beautiful boys," Piers grumbled.
"Dinner and sex on the hoof, right Piers?" Linden snickered again.
"Pierson!" Roderick growled.
"For crying out loud, Rod, when are you going to realize I'm not an Adolescent anymore?"
"When you stop acting like one. It's time to face up to your responsibilities."
"We're fricking vampires. Since when do we have 'responsibilities'?"
"You are my Child. That alone gives you the responsibility to behave like an adult."
'You are my Child,' Piers mouthed, wrinkling his nose, though he made certain his Sire couldn't see him doing it.
Linden saw it and laughed. "A hundred and twenty going on nineteen,"
"Hey, not my fault he turned me before I reached my prime."
'Oh you are very prime.' Linden hoped Roderick wasn’t listening in.
Roderick was; and he agreed although he would never tell Piers. They were after all Sire and Child, and as a result that was the only relationship that the King allowed.
Piers, not really wanting a confrontation with Roderick, started to leave the room. A firm hand gripped his shoulder.