(121-04-15) The Black Peacock and Strawberry Cordial
The Black Peacock and Strawberry Cordial
Summary: Lord Pansy and the Bashful Fox relate their adventure with the Black Peacock to the Thorn, the Direwolf, and the Stormy Knight
Date: 15 April 2014
Related: The Black Peacock Strikes!
Players:
Garvin..Laurent..Arion..Malcolm..Carolis..

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Solar - Garden Isle Manse


It is a summer evening. The weather is warm and overcast.

The manse's solar lies behind a pair of ornately carved oaken doors. The floor of the room is a beautiful and shiny surface of polished red granite. There are three large tables of polished mahogany, along with several scattered wooden chairs. Between the bookcases are plush divans, each covered in a rich, fleecy upholstery that makes them very comfortable for reclining.

Sconces designed to hold torches are mounted on the walls all around the room. There are also smaller scones inset into some of the bookcases. These beeswax candles cast enough light to illuminate parts of the room.

The solar is rather well stocked with books, volumes, and tomes of various sizes. There are likewise many scrolls stored in a rack along the east wall. Tapestries depicting scenes of hunting and epic battles hang on the north, east, and west walls. High, arched windows line the south wall, overlooking Sphinx Street, and in the distance, the domes and spires of the Starry Sept can be seen.


Laurent stalks back and forth in the room's longest open space, his heavy steps echoing on the red granite floor. "…in broad gods-damned daylight, though?!" His voice is raised enough to likely be heard on the stairs. "By the Father's shorthairs, Cousin, but that's a bold thief. Why haven't the city watch caught the bastard, yet? Why didn't you stab him? Or your Florent boy, he seems able-bodied enough."

Garvin shinks himself a bit smaller in the face of Laurent's anger, sitting in one of the large, comfortable chairs near the bank of windows. "Neither of us were armed," he protests. "And by the time we realized we'd been robbed, he'd already gotten away." He bites at his lower lip, brows furrowed in worry. "If being robbed makes you this upset, maybe I shouldn't mentioned what happened later…."

A page leads Arion up the stairs and pauses at the door to announce him. "Lord Arion Florent to see you Lord Garvin." And with that the page is off and Arion steps inside walking towards Garvin and pausing when he sees Laurent and his angry state. He bites his lower lip nervously. "Is this a bad time?" Garvin's words about what happened after the theft have the Florent lord blushing pink all the way up to his ears, apparently it was something quite interesting whatever happened.

Malcolm follows the page up, surreptitiously looking at the grand furnishings and hangings on the way. He is carrying a small bottle, with some dark liquid within. He moves with an efficient grace, despite the uncharacteristically fancy clothing. His hair is loose today and well brushed, instead of his usual exercise sweaty scruffiness, and he's even wearing the faintest touch of carefully hoarded scent, something with a woody, masculine base note and spices. The page announces, "Ser Malcolm Storm," and hurries out in the face of angry nobles. Ser Malcolm studies Ser Laurent with a very neutral expression. He bows gracefully to both men, but addresses Lord Garvin in his very Stormlands lower gentry accent, "I heard rumors at the Quill of you being attacked. I came to see if you were well. I brought a bottle of cordial, my grandmother sent from Kellington. I thought it might cheer you up." His wary gaze keeps track of the larger noble in case of trouble.

"You probably shouldn't," Laurent agrees, shaking his head. There's color in his cheeks, from frustration rather than embarrassment, and he comes 'round quickly to retrace his steps in the other direction, "But I'd have you any…" He cuts off suddenly when Arion is announced, and stops in his pacing to wave the young Florent in. "Of course it's a bad time," he growls, gesturing toward a seat. Malcolm's appearance earns an exasperated glance from the surly knight toward Garvin, and an open-handed gesture of frustration. "Is this a bad time?" It's his turn to echo the squire's words now, aiming the question at Garvin.

Garvin jumps off the chair and hurries to Arion's side, pulling him into an embrace and adding a kiss. It's not an overly passionate one, but most certainly affectionate. "Of course, it isn't a bad time. How are you feeling?" And when the page shows Malcolm in, Garvin quickly steps back from the Florent, blushing but keeping a stiff upper lip. "Ser Malcolm, that's very thoughtful of you." He glances toward Laurent, then begins formal introductions. "Ser Laurent of House Tyrell, may I present Ser Malcolm Storm? You already know Lord Arion, of course." He accepts the small bottle with a smile, pulling the cork and giving a sniff. "Oooh, this smells delicious! Shall we have some now?" Maybe a little booze will distract Laurent from his surliness.

"I am fine Garvin though your concern touches me deeply…are you alright?" Arion smiles warmly embracing Garvin and returning that kiss. When Malcolm enters he takes a step back and offers Malcolm a warm smile and a nod of his head. Then he turns and goes to sit in a chair next to where Garvin was sitting. He looks to the angry Laurent nervously and smiles faintly at him before looking to Garvin. "A drink does sound like a good thing to me as well. I cannot believe that thief dared to rob us both!"

Malcolm glances at Arion, and flashes him a sympathetic smile and look of sympathy at his discomfort, but quickly reverts to a politely social expression of sympathy. He sweeps another bow as he is introduced to Ser Laurent. "It is an honor to meet you, My Lord. Word of your fighting prowess proceeds you." The cordial is strawberry with some sort of faintly floral underpinning. Alas, it has very little alcoholic content, only enough to preserve the contents. It's more along the lines of fruit juice infused with flowers with mediccinal properties, though it tastes refreshing rather than medicinal. "I am terribly sorry to hear you were robbed.

"Is it?" Laurent seems skeptical of the honor, and scowls at the Stormlander for a long moment as he works out whether he's being mocked. At length, he must decide he isn't, because he crosses toward Garvin with a muttered, "I'll have some." It comes out sounding sour, though that fits his expression as he looks between Garvin and Arion. "Why in the Stranger's name were the two of you prancing about unarmed? You practically invited it, Cousin."

Garvin rolls his eyes at Laurent, as he moves to a spindly-legged side table, which holds a tray with several tiny crystal goblets. Why do wealthy people put super valuable things on such tables? "We weren't prancing! We were just walking. Tor and Pelly and Cival and…well, whoever the other three were, they were armed. We had just spent hours at the playhouse, rehersing for tomorrow night's opening, and all we were thinking of was a hot bath and maybe a massage at the Lysene bath house. You make it sound as though we were carrying large pennants embroidered with golden dragons and silver stags, just begging to be robbed." Carefully, he pours out four glasses, then leaves the bottle on the table and carries a goblet first to Laurent, then Malcolm and Arion, and finally claims one for himself.

"Florents don't prance." Arion mumbles under his breath at Laurent and then he accepts the glass of wine from Garvin with a warm smile he takes a slow sip. "You should have seen him he was almost seven feet tall and yet he was almost…gracefull. He climbed up a wall to get away of all things." The Florent looks almost impressed by this and then he frowns. "I still haven't told Abram…I'm likely in major trouble when he finds out too." He takes a long drink trying to forget that particular fact.

Malcolm seems perfectly sincere to judge from tone and expression, and does not seem put out by Ser Laurent's tone. He does seem interested in the answer to Ser Laurent's question. He says quietly, "It times like that a person is most apt to be robbed. Familiar paths and distraction tend to relax one's guard. Thieves look for that. Better to take different paths so as to better keep alert. I am glad no one was hurt." He takes his goblet with a smaller bow and sips the cordial, "Thank you, My Lord." He listens to Lord Arion's account and asks, "Did you see what he looked like?"

Laurent snorts a rejoined to Arion's claim, drowning whatever foul thing he might have otherwise said in the first sip of the cordial. And the second — it's very good. He mumbles through a moutful of it, pointing at Malcolm in agreement. "There you go," he says, once he has swallowed it. He lifts a hand to wipe a drop away from the corner of his mouth, then adds, "Ser Abram will have you skinned," toward Arion, "As someone ought to do with my lord cousin."

Garvin takes a small sip, his eyes lighting. "This is very good! Ser Malcolm, do you think your grandmother would send a cask or two to me? I'd be more than happy to cover all expenses, of course." He takes another sip, then sits again, leaning a little toward Arion. "All he got was a few coins, hardly worth becoming all bothered about it. Neither of us were hurt…in the Square." He glances to Arion, blushing. "Anyway, he was very tall, like Arion said. Black hair, black clothes, a black cloak with a silver pin." He pauses a moment, frowning. "Come to think of it, he was rather well dressed, for a common cutpurse. Oh! And he left this." He jumps from his seat again and crosses to the long table, plucking up a long, black peacock tail-feather. "I've never seen a black one before, so it must be rare. Even normal peacock feathers tend to be expensive, coming all the way from the Summer Isles as they do. Right?"

Arion goes pale at Laurent's words. "I am afraid you may be right Ser Laurent…Garvin in the event that I don't survive that encounter I'm leaving all my possessions to you." So dramatic is the young Florent! He even looks properly fearful that is until the thief is brought up again. He nods to Garvin's words before adding his own. "He had black hair, fine dark clothing and grey eyes. And yes he did look a bit too finely dressed to be a common thief and he was much cleaner than I would have expected from a cutpurse too."

Malcolm's lips curl up into a bright grin as Ser Laurent seems to enjoy the cordial. He sips his own, savoring the taste of home. "Alas, there is no such things as casks of this. It's small batch based on what is left at the end of the fruit harvest in the year it is decanted. I can see what I can do later in the year." His eye brows go up at all the blushing going on, but he does not comment. "Is it dyed? That's likely simpler than breeding black peacocks. Perhaps some posters should be drawn up with his likeness and a reward offered."

"Every feather I have ever purchased has been in a hat," Laurent says dismissively, shaking his head. "Finely dressed, perfumed and clean? The Father's dragging balls, but you two were robbed by a whore masquerading as a footpad. A single knife between the two of you might have seen an end to…" He suddenly remembers the cordial in his hand, and drowns the rest of whatever he was saying in a drink of it.

Garvin sips again as he sits beside Arion, seeming to enjoy the cordial quite a bit. "I told you, Laurent, by the time we noticed he'd robbed us, he was halfway across the square. A knife wouldn't have done any more good than a sword or a catapault. Now if the Purple Cloaks carried crossbows, one of them might have shot him when he got to the rooftop." He nods to Malcolm then. "That's an excellent idea. I should sit down with Janei and describe the man as best I can. She's really a very good artist." After another sip, he leans over and presses a brief, soft kiss to Arion's cheek. "No one's going to harm you while I'm alive. You tell Abram that if he kills you, he'll have me and Laurent to deal with. Quill too, if I can talk him into it. And Ser Jacelyn, of course. And Ser Kane. And…well, everyone."

"A whore? What makes you think he was a whore!?" Arion blushes once more and shift in his seat sipping on the cordial. "This is very good Ser Malcolm." He offers the knight a small smile before Garvin kisses his blushing cheeks and he smiles dreamily looking flattered and more than a little lovesick. "Then you would avenge me? Good I would do the same for you in a heartbeat." He smiles brightly at Garvin clearly very pleased by this admission. "Though I would much rather that neither of us die." His eyes widen a bit as the poster idea is mentioned. "That might work yes and then we can catch him and see him punished!"

Malcolm stifles a laugh at the image Ser Laurent paints, and turns a bemused grin on Lords Garvin and Arion, "That is an unusual way of proceeding for a footpad, to be sure." He takes another sip of the faintly flower flavoured barely alcoholic strawberry cordial, as he gets his amusement under control. "Ah yes! The Lady Janei would be just the person to draw up your description." He does sober at Lord Garvin's assurances to Lord Arion. Ser Malcolm is dressed in his best clothes and uncharacteristically well groomed for his visit to the manse. "My grandmother swears by it in times of trouble, Lord Arion. Nobody dying is generally the better outcome, yes.""

Laurent scowls at the small group over the rim of a goblet, nearly drained of that delicious strawberry cordial. "If the man is taller than me," the Thorn says skeptically, "How difficult can he be to find. That describes a handful of men in Oldtown, no more. And I'll daresay it wasn't that hulking turd of a wildling, or Wyl Flowers, so that narrows it further."

Carolis peeks inside when he hears voices, and he pauses upon the threshold. "Good evening, gentlemen." He's dressed finely tonight. It's the first he's been out of his room all day. Holding up a book, he says, "I was just going to put this away. Hello, Ser Laurent, Ser Malcolm." Arion gets an amiable nod. "And to you, Lord Garvin."

Garvin sips his cordial slowly, savoring it rather than guzzling, as he sits in a chair near Arion. Laurent has ceased his angry pacing, for the moment anyway, and Malcolm hasn't sat yet. "I'm sure we'll be seeing him again," he says, giving Arion an enigmatic grin, his eyes sparkling with impishness. "And he should definitely be punished. The pillory, I should think. Like the sellsword Kai." His causes his grin to widen and his expression to become positively wicked. When Carolis enters, he brightens at first, then suddenly blushes and looks sheepish. "Lord Carolis, how are you?" he asks, gulping down the remainder of the cordial.

"You think we will?" Arion asks Garvin as he mentions them seeing the thief again. For some possibly unknown reason he blushes brightly looking both hopeful and slightly embaressed too. He hides his face behind his glass as he takes another sip and grins impishly at Garvin's suggestion. "Or we could tie him up and whip him?" He grins mischiviously at this suggestion and takes another slow sip of his cordial.

Malcolm bows politely to Lord Carolis, "It is a pleasure to meet you again, my Lord. Was it a good book?" His eyes flick between Lord Carolis, Lord Arion, and Lord Garvin. He hides his smile in his cup. "I will certainly keep an eye out for a tall, dark stranger wielding feathers. That does sound distinctive."

Laurent's dark eyes flit between Arion and Garvin, his scowl turning sharper by the moment. He may not be quick on the uptake, but it's hard to miss this level of subtext. When he opens his mouth, though, it's to greet the new arrival. "Lord Carolis." He bites the words off, terse, and finishes his drink.

Carolis tilts his head as he glances at Garvin first, then Arion. "I'm well," he tells Garvin. He regards the young Tyrell rather kindly. As he steps into the solar proper, he gestures vaguely with the book as he says, "It was informative, Ser Malcolm. I do stand corrected. The Hightower is taller than the Wall by a hundred feet. I think it is the sheer enormity of its length that tricked my eye." He turns his gaze to Laurent, regarding him as he passes the Knight by on the way to replace the book upon its shelf. "I do apologize for the interruption, Lords and Sers.

Garvin pushes to his feet again, this time crossing to a different spindly-legged table with a flagon and larger goblets of silver. "We should be careful with the whipping though." he comments, still blushing, as he trades the tiny crystal goblet for a larger one of silver, filling it with Arbor red. "The last person I had stripped and beaten on the pillory broke into the manse and did…things." He gives a sheepish sort of grin, clearly not at all sorry the 'things' were done.

Arion blushes even more at that admission from Garvin. "Do you think it would be any better or worse than what happened after we were robbed though?" There is a mischivious gleam in the Florent's pale green gaze as he studies Garvin a long moment taking a final sip and finishing off his glass of the cordial. He licks his lower lip. "I really need to get a bottle or three of this for myself…"

Malcolm gives Carolis a gentle smile, "A pride in the wonders of a man's homeland is a fault easily forgiven, and certainly the Wall's length, height, and width must overwhelm the eyes of any man. Taller or not, I should certainly love to see such a sight" He eyes Garvin and Arion, then shakes his head. "Shameless. I will write my Grandmother on your behalvs, My Lords, and see what can be done as far as gifts of cordial."

"I'm no longer needed," Laurent says, putting his glass down on the table as he starts toward the door. "You will excuse me, Lords. Ser." His tone is surly, and he doesn't seem to much care whether anyone would like to excuse him or not. Long strides carry him out of the room, and soon his boots can be heard on the stairs.

Carolis inclines his head to the departing Laurent. Once the book is back where it belongs, he turns to Ser Malcolm and says, "Oh, it is breathtaking. There is nothing that can possibly prepare a man to see it. If you come North with me someday, I will take you to Castle Black myself." He turns to consider Arion, then he glances around. Finally, after a moment, he says, "We've not had the pleasure."

Garvin resumes his seat again, frowning as Laurent retreats. Shaking his head and letting out a sigh, he says to Arion, "Oh, I have no doubt it'll be just as…interesting as the last time. Oh! Lord Carolis Stark, may I present Lord Arion of House Florent, my…friend." He gives Arion a grin, eyes alight with affection. "My very good friend."

Arion inclines his head to Carolis with a warm smile on his lips. "Its a pleasure to meet you Lord Carolis." He glances to Garvin catching that afection filled glance and smiling softly his own pale green eyes warm and holding similar affection. The color is his cheeks spred to his ears and he glances away after a moment lowering his eyes and shifting nervously in his seat as he nibbles on his bottom lip.

Malcolm bows respectfully as Laurent takes his leave. His shoulders relax as Ser Laurent leaves, "I would very much enjoy that, Lord Carolis." He smiles crookedly as Lord Carolis and Lord Arion are introduced to each other. "Friends are an excellent thing to have."

Garvin's eyes dart between Carolis and Malcolm — how much have they guessed? He chews at his lower lip for a moment, but when his eyes return to Arion, all his fears melt away, and he sips his wine. He looks to Malcolm and asks pleasantly enough, "So how are you finding Oldtown, Ser Malcolm? I hope you're having fun?"

Carolis bows to Arion, and he smiles at the man when he lifts his head. He doesn't shy from making eye contact, lending the impression, when he speaks, that the words are for Arion alone. "I have heard much about you, Lord Arion, and it is indeed an honor and a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Friendship is a thing to be treasured." His gaze strays to Garvin, and to him he says, "Could I avail upon you for something to drink, Lord Garvin? I'm afraid this heat is going be the death of me" Though he seems quite composed now, the young Stark has been moody lately, blaming the weather. "I would like to foster our friendship, perhaps, Ser Malcolm? That trip to the beach when it's not so horribly hot?"

Malcolm says, "It's certainly educational here. So was this bandit a whore as Ser Laurant suggested. It did look from your blushes as if you knew more of him than you were saying… Perhaps he might enjoy Grandmother's cordial? If you were willing to spare some. As I said, a man is proud of the things from home. Heat is the best time for a trip to the beach, as the water is cooling. Do you know how to swim, Lord Carolis?""

Garvin starts to rise again, but blushes at Malcolm's words, giving a sheepish grin. "What more could I know?" he asks, moving to the first table and pouring a tiny crystal goblet of the strawberry cordial, bringing it to Carolis. "It isn't at though I have knowledge of his massive…cudgel," he says as he sits again, blushing harder. "Or how well he uses it. Is it getting warm in here?" He looks toward the fireplace, but the hearth holds only unlit wood.

"A bandit?" Carolis asks. "What is this? Were you robbed?" Malcolm gets a warm, bright-eyed smile. It's subdued from his usual cheer, alas. The heat really has been torture. "Yes, I do. It's cold then, is it?" There is such hope in his voice. This climate, how do civilized people live in it? He takes the cordial from Garvin and inclines his head in gratitude. "It has been warm in here, Lord Garvin," he's happy to point out. He then finds somewhere to sit, strategically seeking a cross-breeze. "Do you want help catching him? I can get my man on it."

Malcolm grins, "Right. Of course you don't, Lord garvin, and I'm guessing you didn't miss him picking your pocket because you were admiring his form." His smile to Lord Carolis is encouraging, "It is much cooler, though likely not the cold you are used to up North. I would wilt in this heat if I hadn't access to the sea. It is refreshing to do some sea bathing." He sits as well, more relaxed in the absence of the more imposing Tyrell.

Garvin's blush deepens further still. "Actually, I was distracted by Arion. We were talking about visiting the Lysene baths, you see." He reclaims his goblet and drinks deeply, before turning to Carolis. "Arion and I had left the playhouse and had just entered Oldtown Square, when we discovered our coinpurses had been snatched. Fortunately, one of my men noticed the thief, and they chased him off into an alley. When we finally caught up with them, the thief had scaled a wall and was taunting us from the rooftop. Then he disappeared, though I suspect he must have followed us back here…."

Carolis clucks his tongue and says, "A brave thief. My assistance is yours for the asking, though I'm afraid my apprehension skills are rather more final than a prison sentence." He samples the cordial, and his expression smooths with pleasure. "I would trade for a bottle of this, any treasure of the North I have to give. Ah, Ser Malcolm, tempt me no more. I can't wait. My man, Tellur Snow, is quite curious about your knighthood. I hope you'll entertain his curiosity." Another sip, and then he asks Garvin, "Why would he come back here?"

Malcolm says, "They are certainly hospitable at the Lysene baths." The strawberry cordial is only as alcoholic as it needs to be to preserve the fruit juice. It is laced with medicinal flowers, soothing to the nerves and digestion, richly fruity on the tongue. He beams at the praise for the cordial, "I will have to write home for more bottles. There is little left of last season's vintage, but one can hope the strawberries grow well this year. I will happily tell you and him the story, if you like…. Certainly, you hinted he did follow you. How else might you gauge the grey of his eyes or the size of his cudgel?""

Carolis bows to Arion, and he smiles at the man when he lifts his head. He doesn't shy from making eye contact, lending the impression, when he speaks, that the words are for Arion alone. "I have heard much about you, Lord Arion, and it is indeed an honor and a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Friendship is a thing to be treasured." His gaze strays to Garvin, and to him he says, "Could I avail upon you for something to drink, Lord Garvin? I'm afraid this heat is going be the death of me" Though he seems quite composed now, the young Stark has been moody lately, blaming the weather. "I would like to foster our friendship, perhaps, Ser Malcolm? That trip to the beach when it's not so horribly hot?"

Malcolm says, "It's certainly educational here. So was this bandit a whore as Ser Laurant suggested. It did look from your blushes as if you knew more of him than you were saying… Perhaps he might enjoy Grandmother's cordial? If you were willing to spare some. As I said, a man is proud of the things from home. Heat is the best time for a trip to the beach, as the water is cooling. Do you know how to swim, Lord Carolis?"

Garvin starts to rise again, but blushes at Malcolm's words, giving a sheepish grin. "What more could I know?" he asks, moving to the first table and pouring a tiny crystal goblet of the strawberry cordial, bringing it to Carolis. "It isn't at though I have knowledge of his massive…cudgel," he says as he sits again, blushing harder. "Or how well he uses it. Is it getting warm in here?" He looks toward the fireplace, but the hearth holds only unlit wood.

"A bandit?" Carolis asks. "What is this? Were you robbed?" Malcolm gets a warm, bright-eyed smile. It's subdued from his usual cheer, alas. The heat really has been torture. "Yes, I do. It's cold then, is it?" There is such hope in his voice. This climate, how do civilized people live in it? He takes the cordial from Garvin and inclines his head in gratitude. "It has been warm in here, Lord Garvin," he's happy to point out. He then finds somewhere to sit, strategically seeking a cross-breeze. "Do you want help catching him? I can get my man on it."

Malcolm grins, "Right. Of course you don't, Lord garvin, and I'm guessing you didn't miss him picking your pocket because you were admiring his form." His smile to Lord Carolis is encouraging, "It is much cooler, though likely not the cold you are used to up North. I would wilt in this heat if I hadn't access to the sea. It is refreshing to do some sea bathing." He sits as well, more relaxed in the absence of the more imposing Tyrell.

Garvin's blush deepens further still. "Actually, I was distracted by Arion. We were talking about visiting the Lysene baths, you see." He reclaims his goblet and drinks deeply, before turning to Carolis. "Arion and I had left the playhouse and had just entered Oldtown Square, when we discovered our coinpurses had been snatched. Fortunately, one of my men noticed the thief, and they chased him off into an alley. When we finally caught up with them, the thief had scaled a wall and was taunting us from the rooftop. Then he disappeared, though I suspect he must have followed us back here…."

Carolis clucks his tongue and says, "A brave thief. My assistance is yours for the asking, though I'm afraid my apprehension skills are rather more final than a prison sentence." He samples the cordial, and his expression smooths with pleasure. "I would trade for a bottle of this, any treasure of the North I have to give. Ah, Ser Malcolm, tempt me no more. I can't wait. My man, Tellur Snow, is quite curious about your knighthood. I hope you'll entertain his curiosity." Another sip, and then he asks Garvin, "Why would he come back here?"

Garvin squirms uncomfortably on the chair, drinking heavily. "Er. A guess?" He looks at the others hopefully. Will they buy that? His eyes dart again to Arion for any support he might offer, then has a brilliant idea. "I say, why don't we ride out to that little, secluded pool north of the city? Now, I mean. It would certainly cool everyone off." And potentially distract them from the Black Peacock and his massive cudgel. Maybe.

Arion has remained quite for now glancing at him empty wine glass and blushing heavily at the turn the conversation has taken. Finally he looks up at Garvin and smiles softly his eyes warm with affection at the suggestion. "Yes that does sound like a fine plan. The water was very refreshing last time I was there after all." A small smirk plays upon his lips as he studies Garvin.

"I appreciate it, Ser Malcolm," Carolis says, offering him another warm, bright smile. "Perhaps when my guard departs Winterfell I'll have him bring something nice." He sighs quietly. A guard. Feh. He considers Garvin's words for a moment, over the span of another savored sip. Then he says, "Normally I would question the properness of your suggestion, Lord Garvin, but it's so gods-awful hot I'm afraid my manners have expired. I won't wake Tellur. He's finally gotten to sleep."

Malcolm nods, "Let us take some bread and cheese and something refreshing to drink and get away from the city's heat. I swear all the people and cook fires could smother me."

Garvin's eyes light as he looks at Arion, clearly excited at the prospect of another visit to the pool with him. "That is an excellent suggestion, Ser Malcolm," he says, rising from the chair and leaving his goblet behind. "Bread, cheese, and plenty of wine. I shall go to the kichens and have a hamper prepared. We'll need to take some men, of course. Carolis, would you find Tor and ask him to assemble a party?"

Arion rises as well setting his glass aside with a smile. He looks to Malcolm with a smile. "That is a fine idea Ser." He looks to Garvin and nods in agreement. "I will come with you Garvin and perhaps we can all meet down stairs once we are ready to go?"

Carolis rises to his feet and he finishes the cordial before he says, "Of course, Lord Garvin. Are we taking our horses? My steed has been aching to stretch his legs, and I've been too wilted to take him out." He has perked up considerably. Escape from the heat? Oh gods, please.

Malcolm says, "My horse could use a run as well. Might we stop at the stable on the way out of the city?" He follows along happily enough. "Perhaps some fruit as well?""

Garvin chuckles as he makes his way to the door. "Well, of course we're taking horses. You don't think we're going to walk two or three miles in the dark, do you?" His chuckle turns to a giggle as he eyes Arion, tongue playing over his upper teeth. "This should be a fun little adventure. Let's all meet up at the stables downstairs, and we'll lend Malcolm one of the horses. Sound good?"

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