“You make me feel like ...” Montgomery bites his lip and lifts his chin, looking out the window contemplatively. “You know those revolving doors with the partitions? The ones they have at hotels or in bigger buildings?”

I nod my head, frowning, and he looks at me.

“So, imagine me in one partition, and there are two exits.” He’s holding out his hand pointing his pen at his palm as he speaks. “I went in the revolving door with every intention of walking into the building, but I missed the exit and I’m trapped here in a glass cage like a hamster on a wheel.” He’s moving his pen in a circular motion more and more quickly and then he drops his pen and sets down his hand, rubbing at his mouth. “I meant to go into a building and now I’m in a hurricane,” he mumbles, sliding his glasses up his face as he presses his fingertips against his eyes.

I don’t know what to say -- if I should feel guilty or pleased -- angry or maybe offended? I continue frowning at him, watching his shoulders as they sag at his next exhale.

“I’m ... sorry you feel that way, Mr. Montgomery.”

Miraculously, he laughs, shaking his head as he rubs his eyes.

“Don’t be.” He looks amused, licking his lips as he adjusts his glasses again, shaking his head at me. “You know when you go on a roller-coaster, you get off and your stomach is in knots, and your knees feel like jelly?”

I nod once to show my understanding.

“Does it make you regret getting on?” He tilts his head.

“No, sir.” His mouth tweaks again. “Are you ... analogizing me to natural disasters and thrill rides, sir?”

He lets out a harsh laugh, hanging his head. “What else could compare? One second you’re strangling me with my necktie and the next you’re feeding me dessert and fucking my brains out,” he groans and stands up, taking his glasses off as he approaches the window.

My face is hot as I watch him, surprised that he’s even confronting me about this in broad daylight. His hands are on his hips and he looks out at the garden. I stand there stiffly, watching him as he rolls his shoulders and rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m not being fair to you.” He pauses for a long time, bowing his head. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to make it sound like ...”

He sighs and turns, pacing back to his desk slowly.

“I know you’re not equivalent to these things, Arden, I ... I’m sorry, I’m just ... having trouble ...”

He grips the back of his office chair with both hands, his glasses hanging from one finger as he frowns over at me, pressing his lips together.

“Trouble with what, sir?” I force my voice to be innocuous.

He laughs breathily. “With you, Arden.”

“And why would that be, Mr. Montgomery?” I ask, frowning genuinely. “Am I not satisfying you with my work? Do you find yourself lacking?”

He lets out a choked sort of noise and swallows, clearing his throat.

“For several reasons, you are the best butler I’ve ever had,” he answers eventually, “the rest of the staff like you, you don’t forget my appointments as I do, you spend your afternoons massaging me, for fuck’s sake. Of course I’m bloody satisfied,” he said despairingly.

“Then what seems to be the problem, sir?"

“The problem is ... you’re holding me at arm's length, but you’ve got your hand on my neck in a death grip.” He raises his hand as if to perform the action himself, curling his fingers tightly around an invisible person’s neck.

“What would you like me to do, sir?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

“What do you want to do? You’re making the decisions here,” he says, shrugging.

I lick my lips and take a deep breath, looking across the room contemplatively. “Squeeze harder, sir?” I offer, and he stares at me blankly for a long moment.

His face breaks out into a grin, and he leans forward against his chair, laughing. I let my lips pull into a smile because I know he can’t see me, and enjoy his laughter because this is the first time all day I haven’t felt stiff as a board. He holds his face in his hands and his shoulders shake as he takes in deep breaths. I flatten out my smile when he lifts his head and wipes at his eyes with the back of his wrist, putting on his glasses again.

“Just don’t break my neck, okay?” He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Of course not, Mr. Montgomery,” I say, and he eyes me with a gentle expression.