(121-06-25) Confrontations in the Quill
Confrontations in the Quill
Summary: A rather eventful evening in the Quill and Tankard
Date: Date of play (25/06/2014)
Related: Related Logs None

This is the common room of the Quill and Tankard, that famous Oldtown Inn that has never closed in five hundred years. The building is a noble old half-timber structure with plastered stone between the enormous old black beams. It sits on a small rock of an island at the edge of the Honeywine River, and is accessed by a little footbridge, or by water-taxi.

Rivermen and seamen, smiths and singers, priests and princes, Lords and sellswords, travelers both noble and small, and the novices and acolytes of the Citadel - all come for a taste of the fearsomely strong apple cider that makes this inn so beloved by Oldtown's people. There is a pleasant buzz of chatter, cups and tankards being filled and refilled, and general laughter.

The fire in the hearth allows for a merry glow and a comfortable warmth from Oldtown's breezy, misty cobblestone streets. Benches and tables offer places to sit, and there is a deliciously toothsome smell in the air of food from the back.

!!! Currently at least two City Watchmen are stationed here at all times. They will be quick to arrest those who offer violence to anyone. !!!

Toran raises a brow at the Lannister's threats looking completely unfazed and though his hands are kept loosly at his sides they twitch slightly ready to draw his blades in a flash if needed. There is amusement in his gaze though as he ragrds Saren. "A Lannister who doesn't recognize his own cousin? What is the world coming to? I'll have you know my whore of a mother was a Lannister before she married my bastard of a father. Lord Toran Serrett of the Westerlands at your service and I have no intention of going back to the Silverhills…its very stuffy boring place." Toran smirks at Saren and looks to Arion breifly. "Well at least this one is willing to fight for you Lord Arion. Though he could have better manners…" He gives Saren a charming grin not backing down in the slightest.

Arion looks to Saren as he gets up and watches the interaction between the two men carefully with a cuatious gaze. He takes another bite of cake as he watches waiting to see what Saren with do with the loudmouthed Serrett. He actually looks bit conflicted and he reaches for his wine glass taking a long drink from it. Finally he sighs and looks to Saren. "Don't kill him Lord Saren…please?" He gives the Lannister a pleading look. "If you kill him I will not be able to finish these cakes due to my lack of appetite..that would be a shame and you will get his blood all over you too…" The Florent wrinkles his nose and gives Toran another glare.

"Serrett?" Saren answers, the mad gleam still in his green eyes. "Upjumped popinjays." The Lannister knight unsheaths his sword in a fluid, graceful motion and holds its pointed blade aloft toward Toran's upper-chest and throat. One would not have to be a master swordsman to realise that the Westerman need only make an easy movement to strike at his cousin.

"I have never heard of you. What is a little kinslaying in Old Tow, eh? Make this dull Southern town a bit more lively." Without taking his full attention from Toran, Saren speaks to Arion: "Quiet, boy. This is getting exciting."

"My Lord of Serrett, we seem to have ourselves in a dispute, you and I. I suggest we walk out into the yard to resolve it unless all these fine, good townsfolk start screaming and wallowing, eh, what?" His green eyes are as hard as emeralds.

Toran's blades are drawn in a quick flash of steel just as soon as the Serrett Lord sees Saren going for his own blade. Those twin blades are pointed at Saren's own throat and grey eyes harden a bit though the humor is still visible there. "And what would this dispute be my Lord? I assure you I'm not the one with a problem. I'm quite easy to get along with just ask Lord Arion." He smirks wickedly clearly still unfazed by the knights hard gaze. "So why don't you tell me whats gotten you so upset and then I will be perfectly willing to let you resolve it." He is focused on Saren but Arion's comment has him chuckling softly. "So blood makes you nervous hmm Lord Arion? Well I will do my best not to bleed on you too much then."

Madrighal studies the faces of the men involved and comes to a decision. The diminutive musician finishes his decent and makes his way to Lord Arion, who seems to be the subject of the dispute between the two more warlike Lords. his clothes and accent are clearly Dornish, his voice a rich and expressive tenor. He turns concerned dark eyes on the Florant "Is ought amiss? Do you need assistance?" He eyes the potential combatants, "Our fine hosts will not be best pleased by standing on furniture, puddles of blood, and quarrels with steel. Is there no quieter way to solve things?"

Arion glares at them both now. He rises to his feet and puts his hands on his hips. "Both of you stop it. Quit your bickering and sit down before I lose my temper!" He glances to the Dornish man and smiles faintly looking a annoyed but it is not directed at the smaller man but instead at the two quarelling larger ones. "So not everyone wants to start shedding blood and stabbing each other then? This is good. Now we just have to prevent these two thick-headed idiots from doing something stupid like fighting for my imaginary honor." Arion huffs angrily. "You heard me Lord Saren stop it this instant…I expected Lord Toran to lack manners but you ought to at least try to be better than he is."

"Not your honour, boy," Saren answers. "I simply do not like the Lord Serrett here. He has an ugly face, and the smell of a rancid whore's milk teat." The two nobleman stand a distance apart, swords drawn, obviously to the shock and concern of the local patrons. The entire situation literally hangs on a blade's edge.

"If you will fight me, Lord Serrett, I offer you these terms: walk out that door behind you, and I will duel you in the yard." Since Dalton is in the corner of the tavern, his back to the wall and its roaring hearth, it is not possible for him to exit the area first without exposing his guard — a skilled swordsman would quickly realise this situation. "If you would not fight me, put away your blade and make yourself scarce. Think to yourself before you make a move, because I promise you a very, very close shave — finer than any barber's — should you persist, my lord. As for me? I would like nothing more than to open you up like that pomegranate on my table."

"Take it outside or put it away!" shouts one of the guards from their place near the hearth. Both of them have probably been drinking to wile away this assignment.

Toran takes a slow step back and sheathes his blades. "If you wish to get arrested by attacking me feel free. I however have more control than some half mad Lannister without enough sense to see the gaurds standing just over there and a face even uglier than mine." He smirks. "But unlike you I will respect Lord Arions wishes." Another step is taken and he turns to go looking back over his shoulder at Arion. "You should pick your pets more carefully Lord Arion this one is obviously rabid…he might just turn on you." He stalks for the door his cloak billowing behind him.

Madrighal stands behind the Florent trying to look supportive. he places his instrument case well back under a chair for protection. "Ah, so you are just looking for an excuse to spill blood and this gentleman is being used as a pretext against his will." He addresses the pretext, "I am not used to your customs here. Is it normal for knights to behave thus in respectable Inns?"

Arion scowls but his gaze is worried as he looks from Saren to Toran. "And that is a good reason to fight him? Just becuase you don't like him?" Arion raises a brow and looks at the Lannister in disbelief. He relaxes a bit as Toran turns to go and lets out a breath hoping the drama is over now. Not that Arion minds drama he is just not fond of the kind that can get blood on his clothing. He eyes Saren carefully and glances after Toran with a slight frown. he will spare Madrighal a glance and a faint smile but he is more focused on saren's reaction.

The guards laugh, but it's tense laughter. They keep watching the group.

"Respectable?" Saren answers, shocked. "There are more genteel places in your Shadow City, foreign scum." The Lannister is keenly winning hearts and minds tonight. "Afraid of guards, are we?" he remarks, turning back to address Toran. "Put yourself in their place. You see a peacock and a lion; the cat roars, and prepares to devour the bird. Would you place yourself in the way of its jaws? Another time, /cousin/. The Stranger has given you another day," he adds with an unsettling, near lunatic laugh.

At length, the longsword is returned to its sheath. The dagger? It deftly skewers an apple, and the knight brings the fruit to his lips.

"Quite the exciting crowd of friends you have in this city, my Lord of Florent." Saren drapes himself back upon his chair, resuming his seat as if nothing whatever had happened. The knight is possibly mad; he maintains his cool, unaffected posture and tone. "You are from Dorne, yes, fellow? Some very fine scenery in Sunspear. Pretty girls and boys running everywhere. We should only hope that the Seven save you wretched savages from your barbarity by bending the knee to our Dragon King, eh, what?"

Madrighal is watching the clearly dangerous men himself, not convinced things will end calmly. his shoulders are tense, though he appears unarmed, and the thin fabric of his clothes unlikely to be more than a few coins. As the altercation peters out in to random abuse and racial barbs, he sighs, "I had formed a pleasant impression of your city before today. I see that I must revise it." He bows politely to the Florent, and ignoring the knightly oaf, he picks up his instrument and prepares to depart.

Arion sighs and shakes his head looking highly upset. He turns as Saren sits back down and stalks over to him. "You are a terrible man." He glares down at the crude knight and raises his hand to aim a slap to the mans cheek. If it hits it likley woudn't hurt much at all, Arion is not very strong even when powered by his anger apparently.

The sight of the instrument case suddenly catches Saren's interest, and he looks after the leaving Dornishman with great curiosity. "A minstrel?" he cries, ecstatic. "You must forgive me, my friend, I have been on a long voyage, and that boor had my blood up. Please, please. Stay and sing for us — I will make it worth your while," he adds, plucking a silver coin from his pocket. As he speaks after Madrighal, Arion walks over to him.

The reaction is quite swift. With one hand, Saren knocks away the incoming hand and resoundly backhands Arion squarely in the jaw. It is a firm, hard blow that would send many men reeling with its force. "Yes, yes. If you swear to become my squire, Lord Arion, we shall have to work upon that one, I wager." He continues to eat, merrily going about his evening as if nothing were out of the ordinary. More cheese is cut by his knife; the morsels transfered by its blade's edge to his mouth.

"Something melodic, yet mournful. Play us a tune, fellow. You find a great poet before you who could weep for a song."

Madrighal turns back at the Lannisters offer, raising his eyebrows. After some hesitation, he approaches warily. The back hand to Arion shocks him, "I think not. I do not think the company suits me."

Arion cries out in pain as he falls backwards from the force of the blow and lands on his butt on the floor. He glares up at Saren with a hurt angry gaze touching his bruised jaw tenderly. He appears to be in shock for a moment but then he rises to his feet with a scowl and starts to head for the door brushing past Saren's chair to leave without bothering to look at the man again. There is pain in hs eyes but also shame as he tries to make his escape.

"You upjumped, barbarian swine!" growls the knight. "In Westeros, when the scion of a great House tells you to play him a song, you play him a song. Unless you wish to displease that nobleman which, I should warn you, generally comes at a cost. And we Lannisters always pay our debts." He looks out at the rest of the smallfolk in the tavern, many of which are obviously following the unorthodox scene before them with curious interest. "Unless this man plays us a tune, I will offer any free man here a gold dragon to beat this - this Dornish dog within an inch of his life." Another coin is brought out from his coin-purse, in clear sight of the common room. "There is more than one way to skin a cat, they say."

"And where do you think you are going, my Reachman friend?" Saren adds, grabbing Arion by the wrist. "You prattle, pout, moan and complain like a little girl in her skirts desperate for someone to protect her maidenhead. Well, I did, did I not? Sit and finish drinking with me, or by the Seven gods I will take out my pleasures upon you hereafter! Hey, wench!" he shouts at the old woman. "More wine!"

Madrighal's gaze is cold, "Your kinsman and woman have been quite generous to me. It seems to me that a man of your stature moving to crush a minstrel armed only with a lute is a poor show of the honor and bravery of your House. I imagine they will sing of your bravery in hiring thugs to do your fighting for you from one end of the Kingdoms to the other, and how your defense of this gentleman led to you offering him violence and threats of rape. How proud your house must be of your bullying ways."

Arion's eyes widen as his wrist is grabbed. The comments about him have him glaring defiantly at the Lannister but that last comment the man gives him has him blushing with embaressment. Clearly that comment about Saren taking out his pleasure on Arion has some effect in subduing the bratty blonde. He gives the man another glare but its weak and he lowers his eyes after a moment submitting to the mans wishes. "Fine. I'll sit and finish my wine. Now let me go?" He tries to pull away from the man intending to retake his former seat if he is released.

The two guards rise from their table, again. This time they don't shout. They just head towards Saren.

Madrighal keeps wary eyes on Saren and the crowd. Quietly, he steps closer to the bar, and sets his beloved lute well behind it in case it really does come to a beating. He looks with some sympathy on the now subdued blond, and with cold contempt at the arrogant psychopath.

Saren gently releases his hold upon Arion, allowing the younger nobleman to move as he pleases. He continues to tap his coin against the table, looking between the musician and the crowd of townsfolk. "Where this Lannisport, we would have you in the pillery for this insolence." He seems to realise that the crowd is not swaying to his efforts at swaying them with his offer. The Lannister is not amused, but realises that this time he might not get his way.

"I suppose they are a different sort than in Flea Bottom," Saren idly remarks to himself. "Those rats would beat each other for the privilege of beating this upjumped foreigner." The knight sighs, and leans back against his chair. He looks at his fish, now cold, and the fresh wine brought for him. The approach of the guardsmen does not go unnoticed.

"Good morrow, sirrahs. Care for some drink and a bit of dice?" he asks, green eyes moving consideringly from one to the other. Violence might not be entirely off the cards tonight.

"Begone, Ser," says one of the guards, "Or you'll be before Lord Hightower tomorrow, and spending the night with /our/ rats. You were warned not to fight in here."

Madrighal waits quietly near the bar, mind already composing lyrics as he watches the Lannister with the cold gaze of his least pleased noble ancestors, letting the thing play out.

Arion glances at the door as if considering making run for it once more but he decides against it for now. The guards approching Saren has him standing there biting his lip as if considering his options. He takes a steps back moving away from Saren and the guards looking between them warily. He scurries off to one side of the table the farthest side from the possible conflict and watches the scene with slightly wide pale green eyes. "Lord Saren? Perhaps you should leave?" His voice is timid and careful and he continues to watch ready to flee for the door at the first sign of blood.

Arion glances at the door as if considering making run for it once more but he decides against it for now. The guards approching Saren has him standing there biting his lip as if considering his options. He takes a steps back moving away from Saren and the guards looking between them warily. He scurries off to one side of the table the farthest side from the possible conflict and watches the scene with slightly wide pale green eyes. "Lord Saren? Perhaps you should leave? I'll come with you if you wish?" His voice is timid and careful and he continues to watch ready to flee for the door at the first sign of blood.

The second guard gives Arion a blank, baffled look. "My lord?"

"The Reach," murmurs Saren. "Fine place you brought me to for dinner, Lord Florent," he jibes. "Cold, soggy fish. Sour wine. Upjumped bards. And your personal adversaries stalking about doors. Now a couple guardsmen who are tempting me to carve them like a cake." Even though he complains about the setting, Saren is disturbingly amused. The Lannister rises from his chair, a bit drunk. He grabs the wine jug, and drops several coins on the table to pay for the small feast.

"A bear there was

a bear, a bear

all black and brown

and covered with hair," he starts to sing in a melodic, rich baritone. The Lannister makes his way toward the exit, smiling madly. After he walks outside the door, he stands by the street gutter and starts to relieve himself, still singing.

"I.." Arion's words to the gaurd are cut off as Saren agrees to leave. He seems relived when the man takes his leave without further prodding. He slumps into the nearest chair and lets out a breath reaching up to touch his bruised jaw with a slight frown. He finishes off his cup of wine in one gulp and then leaves a generous tip to the tavern staff before he rises and starts for the door with brisk steps.

The guards look at Saren, then at one another. They're confused.

Madrighal watches Saran as one watches a rabid dog lurch unsteadily down a lane, very still and tense. The relaxes when it seems the man is truly gone. Quietly, he takes out a purse and sets it on the bar, "Drinks on me the next hour for all here."

Loryn comes in from the street.

Saren leaves the Quill and Tankard and crosses the little bridge from the door to the street.

The atmosphere in the Quill is very tense this evening. The guards are on their feet and close to the door. The patrons silent in the way men are when waiting to see if there will be blood. Madrighal watches Saran as one watches a rabid dog lurch unsteadily down a lane, very still and tense. Then relaxes when it seems the man is truly gone. Quietly, he takes out a purse and sets it on the bar, "Drinks on me the next hour for all here." He retrieves his instrument from behind the bar and oreders a stiff drink for himself.

Loryn passes the staggering Lannister on his way in, muttering something that sounds like "oh, that weirdo" under his breath. He sees Madrighal by the bar and heads over with a smile. "Hey! Good news! Theatre's open again!", he calls out while approaching, "The big fatty saw sense. Sort of."

Saren comes in from the street.

Saren leaves the Quill and Tankard and crosses the little bridge from the door to the street.

Madrighal looks wildly relieved to see a friendly face. His tone is jovial enough now though. "You are terribly lucky to have a musician with working hangs. That man very nearly had be thrashed. He said he was a Lannister, but I did not catch his full name…. I am glad to hear it! I have finished all the music and am still adjusting the words, though it's minor tinkering at this point! how do you fare?"

"The blonde weirdo?", Loryn asks curiously and nods, then shrugs, not very interested. "Saw him at the Bawdy Bard earlier. Not sure what his problem is. Anyway, that's good to hear about the music!", he smiles and orders a fresh cold ale, "I just spoke to Fatty McCoinmaster and the Whimsy's open again. So first full rehearsal on stage tomorrow. I'm excited!", he admits happily, looking at Madrighal eagerly to see if he feels the same.

Madrighal shudders at the thought of that racist psychopath in a room of defenseless woman. "Those poor ladies. I hope he did not harm them. He is very violent. He threatened to run his cousin through for the honor of the delicate blond Lord, then turned around and threatened to beat and rape him before trying to raise the bar against me. Very uncivilized." He takes an uncharacteristically long drink. Now the emergency is passed, his hands begin to shake. He tries very hard to match the excitement, "It is very good. I am glad my hands and instrument are still unbroken so I might play for you."

"I think he's just mad. And don't worry, those girls can take care of themselves.", Loryn smiles rather optimistically, "I've been to the Bawdy Bard a few times now and saw them…" He pauses, realizing what he's just saying and clears his throat, blushing. "I mean… I was there because Mistress Jessilyn is helping with the costumes for our show. And generally advising me a little on the business aspects of running an entertainment venue. Not for… well, you know. Er, care to play one of the new tunes for me?"

Madrighal reaches over to gently patch his shoulder, "A man has appetites, yes? I am a sand and a son of a sand. I am surprised though that you do not have women at your feat for free what with your looks and name." He takes another long drink to settle his nerves and takes out his instrument to tune. "Of course."

Loryn looks shifty and doesn't really respond for a bit until he settles for "I'm not complaining… and while I don't need to pay, those girls do possess certain talents that are… unmatched. I suppose. I mean… I don't expect certain things in marriage. And I don't care for marriage anyway. Not yet. Anyway -", he clears his throat and tries to steer away from the subject. "Go, play your song!"

Madrighal is amused by his fluster, as watching blonds blush has become a source of entertainment for him since coming to the Quill. "Ah. It is a shame you high born ladies are not encouraged to learn to enjoy the rarer pleasures after marriage." He begins to play a stirring piratey sounding tune, designed to go with play fighting and jaunty lyrics. He sings the lyrics whilre tapping his foot to symulate the knocking of swords.

The music and the ale do a lot to lift Loryn's spirits and he looks very pleased, his foot tapping along with the rhythm. "Ah, excellent, good work, Madrighal!", he says, looking pleased, "You know, I may rise your share in our incomes since you are not only performing but also supplying us with excellent tunes for the show." He makes it sound really generous, though as yet nobody knows if they'll be shifting tickets at all.

Madrighal doesn't seem much worried about money. He seems focused on the music. next he segues into the love theme, his fine tenor singing the part of the swain and his falsetto portraying the reluctant lady's part.

Loryn is still very pleased with the offering, though he wrinkles his nose a bit at the lyrics. "I do like the tune, maestro, but I think the lyrics need work. Our leading lady has…. very high demands and is quick to complain… Play it again, so I can memorize the tune and will work on the lyrics myself a little bit.", he suggests.

Madrighal nods, "I was not sure. How do you want the lyrics to play? Funny? Serious? spirited?" He pulls out rough drafts of the sides from his case and hands them over so Lord Loryn might take notes. He plays it again more slowly, the better for following along and making corrections.

"I'd say… romantic, but with a wink.", Loryn tries to explain, "Right now it strikes me as a bit too earnest. Of course it does have to be romantic, but it is a comedy after all. This song should make the audience sigh for the young couple on stage, but also make them chuckle. So… yes, the lyrics should be a bit more light-hearted."

Madrighal subtly changes the tone of his playing so it is lighter, and exaggerates as his sings, making it a bit camp and over the top. He raises his eyebrows questioningly.

Loryn nods. "Better.", he approves with a smile, "Ulyka will still complain, no doubt, but I like it better this wetter. We can work on it.", he says optimistically, then drains his mug. "I will see you at rehearsal tomorrow, so you can present the new tunes to the whole cast. For now I'm afraid I must be on my way."

Madrighal stands to bow, "Of course, My Lord. I look forward to it." Casting a worried gaze at the door, he asks, "There will be guards at the theater, yes? Thing are getting uglier out there. harsh words exchanged in the streets and threats of violence. If… If my appearing will make trouble, there is another performer I can recommend."

Loryn shakes his head at that. "The arts don't discriminate. We've always been proud of being a community for every creed and colour. Don't worry.", he assures the man, looking firm on this issue, before he smiles. "I will see you later." The young Tyrell places a coin on the bar to pay for his drink and heads out.

A riotous group of Lannisters enter the doors; two are riotous, at the least. Leading the group, Saren Lannister returns to the Quill and Tankard Inn with his arms warpped around the shoulders of Lynette Lannister and Arion Florent. Lory Lannister follows them as well as two professional, well-armed guards in Lannister livery.

"Wench, more wine!" shouts Saren. It seems their small party on the streets has finished their supply. "And some sweetcakes for the Diamond of Casterly Rock!"

Madrighal starts to smile as he sees people he's met and likes, but tenses as he realizes they have brought back the racist psychopath. He stops playing the love song he'd been singing and starts putting away his instrument with an irritated air.

Arion looks a bit tipsy now. At least he seems drunk enough not to get offended that Saren is leading him around. The Florent has a bottle of wine in his free hand and keeps taking generous pulls from it until its completely empty. "I'm outta wine! This is not good.." He slurs his words a little bit as he speaks leaning agianst Saren heavily and letting the Lannister lead him over to a table. The mention of cake has him smiling in a dazed fashion clearly he might be more than a little tipsy. "Cake? I like cake too…"

"Yes, more wine!" Lynette slurs out stumbling along beside Saren with a grin. She has apparently already started drinking though to those that know her this is not at all surprising. She makes her way over to a table raising a brow at Arion and smirking at him. "There was only half of that bottle left…you can't be drunk already?!" She studies the Florent curiously and looks to Saren with a giggle. "I think he is drunk cousin…but you should kiss him just to be sure. Judging by the way he was looking at you earlier he might enjoy it…or he might slap you." Another giggle is given as the 'lady' settles into her seat.

Lory seems to be the only sensible person in the small party as he is still sober… for now. He smirks at his sister's last remark while siting down in a seat. "At least you aren't making me kiss anyone again." He sighs and then actually accepts a goblet of wine from serving girl.

Landlords who refuse wealthy patrons food and drink are unlikely to keep their business, and The Quill and Tankard Inn has not been in continuous business for five-hundred years by refusing Lannisters hospitality: drunk, violent, lunatic or otherwise. The plump middle-aged innkeeper, her face sunburnt and her curly red hair greying, shuffles out with more wine for the thirsty Westerlanders.

"And what about you, my sweet? I could gobble you up," Saren japes with Lynette. He kisses her once more, and proceeds to do the same to Arion. The tall, blonde knight is in top form at the moment. "I say, what happened to the music?" he asks, confused.

Standing over the empty chair at the table, Saren looks over toward the bard and recognises Madrighal from earlier. "Why have you stopped playing, Dornishman? My cousins would very much like to hear your music." His green eyes flash with hot-blooded excitement. Saren takes a wine goblet, and drinks from it eagrely as he looks to the musician. In the background, one of the serving women is serving the Lannister guards flagons of ale.

Madrighal's cheeks are a bit flushed. He has been drinking a touch more than his wont, though his steps are steady enough as the diminutives singer moves through the rather boisterous crowd. He turns and sighs on being hailed, "Are you planning to hire the tavern to beat me while slinguing slurs against my blood again? I must live here and I need my skin in one piece to play for Lord Loryn tomorrow. Your kin are pleasant and generous and I would happily play for them, but I do not see the point in standing still for a knight to threaten.

Arion's eyes widen at Lynette's suggestion but his reaction is a bit slowed by the wine. He blinks and is about to comment but then saren's lips are on him and he is too drunk and too confused to keep from kissing the man back. He blinks in surprise at Saren and raises a brow. "You kissed me? Wait…I thought you hated me? Why did you kiss me? You hit me earlier…" The Florent lord looks completely baffled but still happy, apparently he is very drunk indeed. He tries to take a seat next to Saren's own chair and eagerly reaches for more wine. "First he hits me then he kisses me…what does he really want I wonder?" Arion says his drunken thought aloud and takes a long drink of wine from his goblet.

The Lannister guards exchange a look as they are given drinks. They shake thier heads in refusal and take up thier posts on oppsite sides of the groups table. Its a hard job but someone has to stay sober enough to get the group home. Lynette giggles softly as she is kissed again. "So I see…you can't seem to keep you hands off me. Its a nice change from all the boys who just want Lory….and brother you needed help! You were both dithering about blushing like maidens who don't know what to do when they see a man for the first time….I was helping you!" Lynette gives Lory a stern look and then turns to grin at Arion. "Aww he is so cute when he is drunk…can I keep him? Please?"

Lory frowns at his sister. "You didn't help. Just made things more awkward." He takes a long sip from his cup and leans slightly in his seat. "You hit him Saren? Ah, the shame of it all!" He exclaims rather loudly.

"The whelp attacked me," Saren answers Lory. "Of course I hit him. A little slap, anyway. The boy cannot handle his wine." Now that is a bold statement from the tall Lannister, drunk and bombastic all evening. "Someone threatened him; I pulled my sword on the scoundrel, and told him that I would feed him his own innards." Saren does not seem to think the entire affair very important. He finally takes a seat between Lynette and Arion.

"They are a haughty people, eh? The Dornish." He glances from the nobles to the bard. "We should invade their desert and sack Sunspear. Put them in their place." For whatever reason, Saren has decided to stop exchanging barbs with Madrighal. He occupies himself with the company.

"Did you know, cousin," the knight remarks to Lynette. "That they dye their beards blue and green in the Stepstones? Madness."

Madrighal sighs and heads upstairs to his room, assuming no one stops him.

Arion glares drunkenly at Saren and sulks. "I just tried to slap you…it wasn't an attack. You were being cruel and would have deserved it anyway…you aren't nice at all even if you are handsome. Hells that bastard of a peacock was nicer than you! At least he had some manners…even if he kidnapped me and Garvin…the bastard." Arion mumbles those last words under his breath and proceeds to sulk quietly now looking dejected as he sips his wine.

Lynette raises a brow at Arion and looks to Saren with a giggle. "He is very cute…even if he can't handle his wine very well. It seems you have been a perfect Lannister gentleman then since you were kind enough to threaten the man who was bothering him…you think he is cute too I take it?" She smirks and looks playfully between the two men. Lory gets a breif glance and then Lynette's eyes widen. "Wait a minute…Cousin did you say this man was a Serrett?" She looks to Lory and smirks. "Well brother I didn't know we let kidnappers into our manse..if its the same man that is…" She takes a gulp of wine. "He was handsome though."

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