(121-04-27) A Chat Between Brothers
A Chat Between Brothers
Summary: Loryn goes to see Laurent - with predictable results
Date: 02/05/2014
Related: Lady Come Home

Little Bellhorn Holdfast, Evening.

Knock knock. It's late, post-performance at the Whimsy, and a slightly tipsy Loryn is demanding entrance and wanting to see his brother.

The first response is loud cursing from within Laurent's chambers, and it is a moment before anything at all follows. Then a bit of noise, and finally the heavy tread of feet toward the door, which opens to reveal a bare-chested Laurent with a sheet clutched around his waist. This state shows two angry read scars across his chest, both still with scabbing evident, and a third wound still dressed near those. When he sees his brother in the doorframe, he backs away from it wordlessly, leaving it to hang open and Loryn to enter or leave, as he pleases. The Thorn turns away to stride back into the room and toward his bed.

"Evening.", Loryn greets when he sees his brother and trails after him into the room, a bit warily, looking out for semi-clad women in the bed or hiding in a corner. "Sorry, if I woke you. I'm not staying long. But I need to talk to you.", he explains and settles into a chair, looking grimly determined.

Laurent falls onto his bed, shaking his head. "I was awake through the evening," he says, surly. "This is night, Little Brother." He waves a hand at a sideboard, where wine and stronger drinks wait, a mute offer. "I've Ser Brynden Hightower in mind, if that's why you're here. I'm to meet with him soon and hammer out the details." He yawns, mouth gaping hugely as a high-pitched sound escapes him, and then props himself up on both elbows to look at Loryn.

"Oh, I'm adjusting to the times of the theatre.", Loryn explains loftily, "We go out after the show, so it's evening for us, still. And sleep in late, so the midday becomes morning." He gets up again to help himself to wine, holding out an empty glass to Laurent to ask silently if he wants one too. "Ser Brynden? For what? Oh! … oh!", he realizes and shakes his head, "No, it's not what I'm here for. I'm here to ask you one thing." He turns around to stare at his brother firmly. "When are you going to stop being an idiot and make up with your wife?"

Laurent waves off the offer of wine, frowning. He seems on the point of explaining something, perhaps even amused, but Loryn's words on his relationship with his wife cut that off. His expression turns grim, and he straightens until he is sitting. "Then you are excused," he growls, with a single warning shake of his head. "I'm certain you can see yourself out."

"No.", Loryn stands his ground, having quite expected this reaction. "You expect of Garvin and me to behave like proper Tyrells - him to rein in his improper behaviour, me to go back to squiring to earn my damn spurs, but you are above everything? You should lead by example then. You have a wonderful wife who loves you and won't stand by to watch you treat her like shit!" He glugs some wine quickly, needing a bit more Dutch courage to stand up to his brother's glare.

"It's none of your concern," Laurent says, color rising to his face as he bristles at Loryn's tone, and the subject of the conversation. "You know nothing of it, Boy, and there's nothing unseemly in it. I support my wife, or would if she would live under a Tyrell roof. Got her with child, and will again, until we have sons. I do my duty to her, and she will to me, and that's the end of it."

"Oh, Seventh Hell!", Loryn rolls his eyes, "How do you plan to get her with child, when she lives with her cousin at the Mormonts' house and talks of getting her own house? Don't talk about duty! Make up with her, she's a wonderful woman who deserves to be loved properly! And for all your asshole attitude, I know you're a good man deep down inside - so go and see her, take some flowers, and bring her back to Garden Isle. There. That's all I came to say." He empties the wine glass and sets it down somewhere. "Let me know when I should meet your Ser Brynden." The boy turns to leave.

Laurent laughs at that, but the tone is mocking rather than mirthful. It is an unpleasant sound, but merficully brief. "I will get her with child by fucking her," he says, with bitter emphasis on the vulgarity. "You take her flowers and love her properly, Boy. See where that gets you. You'll have word soon enough from Ser Brynden." With that, he lowers himself back to the bed, pulling the sheet from his waist to cover himself properly.

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