t.w.e.n.t.y

                                    

                                          
The Unseen Duke broke both doors off their hinges and sent them flying forward. As they tumbled down the short staircase leading down from the doorway, they banged and screeched noisily. 
                          
He strutted his tall, lanky figure down the steps with grace and elegance. His eyes were closed and his chin was tilted up towards the roof in a haughty, holier-than-thou fashion, as if there was no one greater than he. 
                          
Garbed in a rich, royal blue outfit fit for a prince, The Unseen Duke was a sight to behold. His thin moustache curled up in perfect, circular patterns on either side of his face, and his long, thin beard that came to a thin point a few inches from his chin had been brushed a few times too many, causing it to become a tad frizzy. 
                          
But what stuck out the most to Remi was how pale and sickly he looked. His skin was nearly without pigment, which was odd, considering how tanned most people in the city were. No one was that pale—the overbearing sun simply wouldn't allow it. There were also deep, dark bags under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in ages. He looked like a walking corpse—with a good fashion sense. 
                          
When the duke was only ten or so feet away from Remi and Melee, he snapped open his eyes. 
                          
They instantly honed in on Remi, and narrowed into angry, almond-shaped slits. 
                          
"The familiar strawberry-blonde hair characteristic of my enemies greets my eyes, assaulting them with unpleasantness. A revolting sight indeed," The Unseen Duke monologued, as if he was telling a story. "Well, do go on. Introduce yourself, Designer. I know you're just dying to become acquainted with me." 
                          
Remi arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Do I know you?" she asked, feigning confusion with her wide eyes and slightly furrowed brows. 
                          
 The Unseen Duke stumbled back in surprise, as if some force had hit him. He clutched his chest, appearing wounded. "Oh enemy of mine, how your words wound me. For it is I, Duke Guatus." 
                          
Remi tapped her chin, pretending to think about it. "Nope, sorry—not ringing a bell." 
                          
Without waiting for a reply, she sauntered on over to the plush couches on the far side of the huge, cavernous room, leaning back and propping her crossed legs up onto the clean coffee table. Her dirty shoes left marks. 
                          
"The insolence!" Duke Guatus exclaimed, clearly offended. 
                          
"Can I have my money now?" Melee asked, filing her nails in boredom. 
                          
The duke ignored her. He walked up to Remi, but she didn't even look his way. "Some call me The Unseen Duke," he finally growled, desperate for some recognition. 
                          
Remi pursed her lips, leaning back and closing her eyes, making sure her shoes left as much of a mess as possible. "That sounds vaguely familiar, but I still can't place it. Let me think on it." 
                          
Quite a few seconds go by. "Are you done thinking yet?" 
                          
Remi opened one green eye to peer at him. "Oh, right. Yes. Sorry, I forgot you were still there." 
                          
The duke's thin lips twisted into a sneer. "How dare you sprout such lies! I'm a legendary figure, with my perfect complexion and meticulously groomed facial hair. There is no one more handsome than I. Therefore, my presence is unforgettable." 
                          
Remi inclined her head. "Did you say something, Moustache?" 
                          
"The gall!" he shrieked, before taking a deep, calming breath in an attempt to soothe his bruised ego. The way his mouth formed a small 'o' shape as he breathed in and out was quite comical. 
                          
"And to answer your earlier question, yes; I vaguely remember you as one of many people who had a bit of a tiff with my father." 
                          
"A tiff?" the duke yelled loudly, tugging angrily on his beard.