closed.

[turncloak]

who turncloak & wolveshowling.
where Anatole. (Duncan's and beyond.)
when ~27th November.
what drinking; an awkward, broken sort of bromance; Westeros politicking and canon-point confusion.
warnings Theon.

Comments

[wolveshowling]

[ robb is all in furs, grey wind at his heels, tully curls a windswept tangle. the patrons of the pub give him wide berth, wary of the beast trailing robb's steps. and robb pays them no mind, entitled as the king he is still learning to be. ]

You have picked the filthiest pub in all of Anatole.

[ robb's tone is mild, more teasing than complaint as he settles on the chair beside theon, grey wind curling on the floor beneath the table. his eyes flick over the woman, then back to theon. ]

I should hope that's not your bedmate for the evening.

[ and that the glasses are clean. ]

[turncloak]

[ Grey Wind still makes Theon uncomfortable. Perhaps he always will. So once he's greeted Robb he watches the wolf padding in behind him, is as aware of where it curls up out of his sight as he would be of a beautiful woman. ]

[ Or an ugly one. But he just shakes his head, chuckling, at Robb's seriousness. ]

Surely you've better trust in my taste than that.

[ Theon glances around them. Perhaps not. ]

You're right about the pub. But I'm fond of it. The bartender knows everything and then some, and he'll tell you, if his throat's wet enough.

[ Half of it's hearsay or rumor or baseless speculation, and like as much if he tells Theon he'll tell any other misfit with a copper and a curiosity - or it's ivories here, isn't it? Still, Theon enjoys the idea of having a "source", and he'd certainly milked this one for all he was worth. ]

[wolveshowling]

Useful enough, I suppose.

[ robb's glance at the bartender is full of mistrust, but it only last for a few minutes before he looks back at theon. he peels the furs from his shoulders, shifting on the bench. ]

How was Wynn?

[turncloak]

Quiet.

[ A sardonic look. ]

Dull.

[ But far from those who hate him. Theon has come to appreciate a life without adventure, being able to sleep without needing to keep his back to the wall, waiting for the knife. ]