[Re-Introduction: Sir Dinadan]

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

Dinadan awakens, which is already several positive steps ahead of where he thought he'd be this morning (viz. in the void from which there is no awakening, or in the hereafter that he has done nothing particularly to avoid). A giddy thrill of relief washes through him. He cautiously cracks one eye open, and then the other. For a moment, the sunlight's brightness overwhelms him--an aching reminder that he is, somehow, alive.

But as the sunlight becomes bearable, he realizes that he is somehow, impossibly, once again, in Sagramore's cabbages.


"Christ, do you really only have one joke?" he calls to the sky--but he's grinning all the same. A life condemned to cabbages is better than a death condemned to Hell or the void, and given those are the only two options, he'll gladly take the cabbages.

Friends and strangers may find a tall, blond knight minstrel wandering around in Sagramore's borrowed clothes, occasionally strumming his rebec, definitely not touching anything he shouldn't.

Comments

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

Just as brightly, "Alack."

Szarka, satisfied that Dinadan is Here and The Same and Loves Her, scoots off his lap to sit at attention, tail wagging. "Betrayed," groans Dinadan, and heaves himself slowly to his feet. "Is there breakfast to be had? Or have I sat on all of it?"

[sagramore]

"I will, in my generosity, grant thee breakfast. Come on."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Magnanimous. I suppose I'll have to find somewhere to stay, too, if I am staying."

[sagramore]

"The big house is full of rooms. Thou wilt easily find something to thy liking. I'd invite thee to stay here, but I don't want thee to get surfeited on me."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Impossible. But with a babe in the house, I'm sure thou wilt treasure every scrap of privacy."

[sagramore]

"If only thou wert the sort of man who would join us, it wouldn't matter."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Well, now I'm certainly finding my own room."

[sagramore]

"It'll be such a shame not to awaken to thy melodious playing."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"When hast thou ever awakened to my melodious playing?" Dinadan swings into the house, where Laertes is busy at the hot plate making omelettes and bacon.

[timebethine]

"Who's this?" Laertes asks. "Ought I to make another plate?"

[sagramore]

Sagramore lights, in a way he hasn't since Dinadan left for the first time. He sweeps over to Laertes, sliding his arms around his waist. "Another plate, a hundred, anything he wants. Dinadan's staying."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"I'm staying," Dinadan agrees, smiling even as he averts his gaze. "But fear not; I'll only eat you out of house and home this once, and then scavenge my meals like everyone else."

[timebethine]

"Just this once, then," says Laertes, mock-stern through his slow-growing grin. He leans back to kiss Sagramore's chin. "My husband fell into despair in thine absence; I'm glad to have thee back, if it will ease his heart again."

[sagramore]

"Shhh, don't tell him that, he'll think I'm sentimental--"

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"I know thee sentimental," says Dinadan. "Truly, one of the most sentimental men I know."

[timebethine]

Laertes sets down two plates, laden with bacon and with mushroom, onion, and Swiss omelettes. "I see thou knowest him well. I'm glad to meet thee. He speaks so well of thee, and of thy friendship."

[sagramore]

"I'm not! I'm robustly cynical! Nothing affects me!" He pauses. He usually drinks his sole glass of brandy over breakfast so he doesn't have to think about it the rest of the day, and so that it takes less importance in his mind. As usual, Laertes has it set by his plate.

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

Dinadan sits and nudges Sagramore with his toe. "Sagramore, art thou trying to impress me, or confuse me?"

[timebethine]

Laertes, meanwhile, catches the glance at the brandy. All at once, the posturing snaps into place for him--he realizes that there is a man whom Sagramore was with Dinadan, a man who boasted and caroused and spoke lightly of heavy things, and that Sagramore is even now trying to conjure his ghost. "I'll make coffee," he says, and takes down the cezve.

[sagramore]

"Thou art impressed by nothing, so it's a fool's errand," Sagramore says merrily, sinking into his seat. "This will be good coffee, not like we had last time."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"In fairness, we profaned that coffee terribly."

[sagramore]

"We did commit a sort of coffee crime, yes."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"An abomination. Frankly I expected more respect from thee for both coffee and alcohol."

[sagramore]

"I don't respect anything."

[timebethine]

"Thou wilt respect me," Laertes cuts in, with a comfortable hand laid where Sagramore's neck meets his shoulder.