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Gwaine stumbled into his chamber, cursing as he tripped over a boot in the dark, and fumbling his way to his table to light the smokey oil lamp. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor, throwing himself back onto his bed to lie atop the blankets, staring moodily at the patterns that the single flame made on the boards of his ceiling. In the coolness of his room, he shivered.
~ ~ ~
Just... a thought.
Sir Leon padded softly to his door, resting his hand for a moment on the smooth oak panel while a confusing array of bad ideas turned themselves over in his mind. Finally, he reached for the latch-string and pulled the heavy door open just enough to lean his head out and peer warily into the corridor.
Across the hall, the door opposite swung open, and Sir Gwaine casually leaned up against the door-frame, arms folded across his chest. He eyed Sir Leon curiously.
Before he could regret the choice, Leon jerked his head towards his room, stepping back and opening his door in invitation. Gwaine lifted his eyebrows and studied him shrewdly. Then he pushed himself off the door-frame, saying mildly, “Yeah, alright.”
Sir Leon's door swung shut behind them with a thud, and the latch fell, leaving an empty hallway in its wake.
Time to bridge that cultural gap.
~ End ~
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