[closed]

[oathbroken]

Who: Jaime and Tyrion!
When: After Tyrion returns from Dismas, dinnertime!
Where: Jaime's room in the Alliance Headquarters
Format: Action
What: Brotherly bonding time? ...or brotherly "let's talk about horrifying things and get on the sameish page" time, anyway. Plus, food!
Warnings: Jaime being Jaime, Tyrion being Tyrion... XD which means

Comments

[oathbroken]

[Tap tap tap. There's the door. Jaime takes a final, steadying drink and fills his glass again, as well as Tyrion's. It's a fine enough wine, as far as he can tell, though the standards in Anatole may be different than thoses of King's Landing. For all he knows, this may be the best they can do.]

[Either way, it'll ease the conversation to come.]

[He rises and makes his way to the door, and in the back of his mind he takes account of all the things he'll need to mention before the night is done. ... Tysha, he decides, he will likely keep to himself. That little confession hadn't gone well, last time.]

[Still, it lingers on his lips, and when he opens the door to greet his brother, he very nearly spits it out all over the floor. I didn't buy that wife of yours. She was true, but I didn't know it at the time. Father told me--]

I see we'll need to find you finer clothes, dear brother.

[A much better opening than that old, sad story. Not that he should speak much, on the subject of clothes. His own are modest enough as

[oathbroken]

[Moments of awkwardness are known for spawning infinite series of additional moments of awkwardness. Case in point, Jaime's slight discomfort causing him to forget to actually get out of the doorway and invite his brother in. Alas.]

[It's reparable, of course. He steps aside, and gestures Tyrion in with one sweeping arm.]

She isn't mine, precisely. I believe she is in service to the woman who owns the building... still, she makes her rounds as well.

[A moment to gather himself, and Jaime makes his way back to that little table, currently set out for two, and takes his seat - to all appearances rather casually. Knots in his gut aside, he ought to at least appear composed, hm?]

How have you found your stay in Anatole so far? [He traces a circle around the rim of his glass once, and then lifts it to his lips.] For my own part, I've found it welcoming enough, though occasionally a difficult adjustment.

[Let us make merry, let us make small talk. Let us find our metaphorical balls, though they may lie at the bottom of a wine