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Post by Flex on Jul 30, 2012 13:02:13 GMT -5
The coolest of all the rooms
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jul 30, 2012 13:52:58 GMT -5
When Jothos enters, he is in a state other than cool.
"That fucking bastard!" he screams, slamming the thick wooden door behind him with an echoing thud.
He paces about, rubbing his hands through his sticky hair vigorously, before going back to the door and opening it.
"Will someone bring me a bowl of hot water. Please!" he shouts down the corridor before heading back inside.
He wanders over to Baelor's side of the room and contemplates his possessions, glancing manically from them to the window and back again, before shaking his head angrily. Too obvious.
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Post by Gerold Frey on Jul 30, 2012 14:13:38 GMT -5
Gerold escapes from thrown cake into the rest of the tower, the slightest glob of cream having caught his foot as he made his escape from the growing chaos. He scrapes it off against a step as he ascends to the various rooms, reflecting that he got out just in time.
How particularly vile of the Stark Boy.
Seeing very few servants about when Jothos cries for a bowl of hot water - what with most of them at the ball or doing more important things - he bustles off to fetch one himself, along with a pair of red towels. Red, so that the stains won't show so luridly.
He knocks awkwardly on the door, wide bowl in one arm and towels on the other.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jul 30, 2012 14:16:10 GMT -5
"The Stranger take you Baelor!" Jothos shouts at the door.
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Post by Gerold Frey on Jul 30, 2012 14:18:16 GMT -5
Gerold coughs, staggering slightly under the weight of the bowl of water. He transfers the grip of his towelled hand to it. "It's, um. It's not Stark," he says, probably barely loud enough to be heard through the door.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jul 30, 2012 14:21:34 GMT -5
There is a moment's silence, and then the door clicks open. Gerold is met by the face of an uncharacteristically flustered Jothos Tully.
"Gerold, what do you..." he starts before noticing the water and towels.
"Oh you've... thank you." His tone softens and his expression tumbles away from anger and into melancholy. He leads Gerold into the room.
"You saw him..." he starts but doesn't finish.
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Post by Gerold Frey on Jul 30, 2012 14:26:07 GMT -5
Gerold nods sombrely, following the sticky fish into the room and looking around fretfully for a table - some kind of surface - upon which to put the water. "I did. If it's any consolation, cream cakes went flying soon after you left, and I believe he got a facefull."
"He tossed some of the remnants in my direction," he adds, indicating the traces of cream still on his simple brown boots.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jul 30, 2012 14:32:08 GMT -5
"Hmph," Jothos noted appreciatively when told of Baelor's creamy fate, though he was still crestfallen.
He seated himself to wash. Looking down at Gerold's boots he nodded.
"I just feel so humiliated," he sighed, as if talking to himself rather than Gerold. He tested the temperature of the water with his little finger before gently dipping the entire front half of his head into the steaming bowl.
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Post by Gerold Frey on Jul 30, 2012 14:38:18 GMT -5
Gerold nods quietly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "It's- um. It's not you his little game humiliated, I don't think. If anyone comes out of this with reputation lost, it- well, it'll be him."
The young Frey glanced around the room, taking in the fine things the heirs to two paramount families can afford. "You'll- um. Be alright though, yes? I wouldn't want to- um. Intrude." He voices his unease at being present as the Tully washes, but waits to be dismissed. He wrings his gloved hands.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jul 30, 2012 14:44:11 GMT -5
Tully shook his hair loose and took up one of the towels.
"Everyone knows what Baelor is like. One does not lose a reputation one does not have," he snapped mildly, wincing as he probed deep into his right ear with a toweled finger.
"But I appreciate the sentiment Gerold, thank you," he said quietly, eyeing his future bannerman, apparently now fully calmed.
He did not dismiss Gerold but instead went to the dresser to find a change of clothes.
"Have you had a pleasant evening Gerold?"
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Post by Flex on Jul 30, 2012 14:45:17 GMT -5
The door slammed open and Baelor entered, a big grin and cake on his face. He spots the two and pauses.
"Oh... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
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Post by Gerold Frey on Jul 30, 2012 14:46:06 GMT -5
Gerold colours, and for a moment his eyes dart between the Stark heir and the window.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jul 30, 2012 14:49:38 GMT -5
Jothos is not surprised by Baelor's entrance.
"You are not interrupting anything Stark, but all the same your presence is not required."
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Post by Flex on Jul 30, 2012 14:51:03 GMT -5
Baelor shook his head. "You never laugh, Jothy, that's your problem." He moved over to a mirror, laughed at what he saw and lay on his bed. "Joss hit Tyana Lannister right in the face. With a cake."
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jul 30, 2012 14:53:47 GMT -5
Jothos scowls.
"I laugh when it is warranted. At a clever jape, an ironic situation, not at the common buffoonery of a ninny."
He looks to Gerold expectantly for backup on this point.
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