â - Oh ! â He said quickly upon bumping into another whilst returning to the ballroom, and without a thought further than noticing the goblet about to slip from their hand, he reached out to help steady it - accidentally clasping hands instead with the rather adept grip already back on the cup. Damned if he made a fool of himself on this night before the nobility or worse, made himself seem out of the ordinary! It could foil his whole plan for the Queen of Midland if one soul was to even question his innocence. And all because what, a pitiful slip up with another noble like this? His hand slowly left the otherâs so as to seem natural ( though both were clearly aware it was a bumble ), a courteous smile tracing upon his cupidâs bow. â My greatest apologies, Ser. I did not see you there. â Â
   well, whatâs done is done --- a spot of claret dappled sweetly on his shirt, sinking swift through the quilt of his doublet already, stippling it dark. by the feel alone, he notes the stain is paltry ( a greater disaster has been avoided, thank goodness ), and perhaps if he were attending this fete by his lonesome, had he the individual birthright or esteem, he could ignore the blot for the trifling detail it is, but thereâs farnese to consider. her image, her reputation. and so many shrewd eyes about.
   tonight, serpico keeps a tally of how many lashes heâs owed, and he can already imagine the climbing strokes should he return without attending to his appearance first. the thought doesnât distract him from the warmth of a palm slipping across his knuckles, or this manâs face ( ser griffith, wasnât it? a hero among men, this gauche? ), but it helps center him nonetheless.Â
   such a smile, the white hawkâs, and the wine stills to placidity in his goblet, like it hadnât nearly capsized a moment earlier. â â yeah, i get that a lot, â he returns, unfazed, unblinking. curious that a fabled glory-hound should be so far removed from the heart of the festivities. â uh, sorry if youâre in a hurry, but could i trouble you for a handkerchief? my shirtâs kinda wet. â