Neglect

                                    

                                              
The warmth of smoke creeping inside his lungs was all Roy needed to unwind after a long, restless day. At last, one more week of rounds was over.
                          
The man had gone to the garden, the most peaceful place to be alone with his thoughts. Or, in this case, with a pack of cigarettes. Although the glass roofing prevented contact with the outside world, residents of the manor could at least appreciate the sunset at times like these. The magician did so now, making the most of his alone time. Not that it would last much since, as usual, something had to happen to ruin his moment.
                          
Firstly, he heard a thump from the main hall. This would be alarming as is, considering he was all the way "outside", but he decided to brush it off. He wanted to rest. He needed to. Not even a minute later, Miss Woods' voice screeched behind the door, making the dining room the loudest it's ever been. Roy could barely distinguish her words but understood they meant recess was over.

                          
After a quiet sigh, he rubbed the tip of his cigarette against the stone pillar next to him to put it out and headed towards his misery.
                          
Fortunately, it didn't take much leg effort to get to the entrance hall's door, only a few steps. But perhaps taking Woods' shrieks in a more serious consideration would have prepared him for what he would be facing.
                          
Even though he had shown up seconds ago, what occurred seemed to be very clear. Upstairs, one wooden baluster on the handrail had detached. The mischievous piece of wood was on the floor behind the table but still showed up on Roy's range of vision. There was a circle of people ahead of him: a concerned gardener, a negligent doctor and a  very shaken up Pierson. He had his right hand over his left shoulder. His social shirt was loose enough so he had been able to roll it up to a short sleeve length. An ugly bruise was forming under the cloth, some of it visible on the rest of his arm.
                          
"What seems to be the problem?" Roy asked while pacing across the room.
                          
The group turned to face him and Woods explained the situation in an apologetic tone. "Mister Pierson fell down the stairs. Miss Dyer believes he should stay away from the matches for a while."
                          
Roy gave her a calm nod and glanced up to his teammate again. He was staring at nothing. The magician spotted a soft tone of pink covering the tip of his ears and the corner of his lips curving upwards. Suddenly, he had a mild smile on his face as well. Miss Woods had their arms intertwined and was holding his coat, he thought, full of compassion.
                          
"Let's go to the infirmary so I can bandage your shoulder." Roy frowned, a sting of anger piercing through his stomach. Why was the gardener the one in charge of Pierson's injuries? He didn't bring it up in front of everyone since he didn't want to cause a scene, but that was the doctor's task. As soon as the two lovebirds were past the door, he got the chance to scratch the itch.
                          
The doctor began walking off and Roy interrupted her. "Excuse me, Miss Dyer. Can I ask you something?"
                          
She turned back with a heavy sigh. "I am very busy at the moment, please be quick."
                          
"Are you so busy to the point of letting others do the job you were assigned?" He tried to ask as politely as possible, he really did. But, judging by the expression on her face, some of his resentment spilled off along with his words.
                          
"Mister Roy, I am the only resident assigned an extra role in this manor." Which was a lie, Woods had to tend the garden and indoor plants. "Managing that plus my performance in the game leaves me with very little free time. I can assure you I have strong reasons for not being able to aid Pierson's wounds if that's what is bothering you. Besides, Woods is a very competent woman. She'll be able to deal with Mister Pierson just fine."
                          
Roy was annoyed, but he didn't want to let it get to him. Instead, he decided to (quite fittingly) give her a taste of her own medicine. He pulled off the smuggest of grins and told her: "Oh, I know, I have no doubts about that. But will Pierson be able to 'deal' with Woods, though?"
                          
That seemed to get rid of the doctor's attitude. She looked like someone had slapped her, at least on her ego. Now she wasn't the only one who knew how to bribe people using their loved ones as bait. Roy wondered how that felt, being on that poor guy's shoes, knowing it was her doing.
                          
Dyer went up to him, not with a face of guilt, but rancor. "I've got my eyes on you, Mister Roy." She said, glaring at him deeply. If looks could kill, Roy would be six feet in the ground.
                          
He stood there proudly watching the doctor making her way to the infirmary instead.