till the end

“Pardon me, I wasn’t deliberately staring.” Morgana shook her head, snapping back to reality as she realized she has zoned out again. “I tend to drift away a lot.”

“It’s nothing.” Prentice shrugged, keeping his thoughts to himself - he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate such things from a complete stranger. “If that’s the case then, I offer my apologies for jumping to conclusions.” 

“Actually, I was wondering if you had any fire? I have been dying to light my own cigar and it appears I have forgotten to being my matches.”

“I do.” Prentice eyed the other woman before procuring matches from his pocket and handing it over wordlessly. “Do you require anything else?” 

Prentice shrugged expansively. “People tend to judge.” He spoke simply. “I apologise if I was under the wrong assumption, my lady.” And though the other woman was dressed in a noblewoman’s manner, there was still an air about her that spoke of authority. Better safe than sorry. 

Eva was not really aware she was staring so rudely at the man. Shaking her head, she let herself smile apologetically, as it was expected of her.

“They are also poisonous to your body.” Prentice muttered but still he took his cigar between his lips and breathed in deeply. “Still-” He offered, begrudgingly. “-they do well enough in helping you relax.” 

“Ser Prentice,” she greeted. “It is not my place to dictate your indulgences.” She nodded. “I must admit that the smell is both repulsive and pleasant.” 

“If it offends you my lady, I can stop.” Prentice murmured, looking up at the noblewoman with an expressionless face. Still, he couldn’t quite hide his stiffening muscles as she took a seat next to him, the way his gaze darted down quickly at the few inches that separated them. 

“Hm. We all need an indulgence now and then,” Phyllis said. She held out her hand, eyes twinkling with teasing amusement. “Share with me?”

“Well, I can hardly deny you, my lady.” Prentice murmured, fishing in his pocket for another cigar and handing it over. His expression remained unreadable. “Just one though.” He added, unable to help himself. 

Pietra curiously watch her chosen companion as she continued to sip her ale; his obvious struggles bringing her an odd sense of joy as she eventually set down her tin and she took a chance to breath the fresh air beyond her cup. While her companion selection was for the most part completely random, she could sense those who would make her time spent drinking more worthwhile. A single chuckle escaping her chest through both her mouth and noise as he spoke, Pietra’s eyebrows rose up and inward as her smirk bound even tighter. 

Prentice refrained from reaching up and touching his face when she mentioned ocean eyes. Such an odd description - did she mean to flatter him with it? 

“Aren’t you a little too young to be saying such things?” Prentice asked severely, staring down at the young girl across from him ( as if he just didn’t take a long draught from his own tankard. ) “One drink may do you no harm, but two, three, four more and you’ll be finding yourself tied to the peer, penniless, with no clue how you got there.” And yet, despite his own dark mutterings, Prentice tilted his head back as he took another generous swig. 

      Iapetus raised a brow, a smile hinting at the edges of his lips. He’d offered the ale as more of a polite gesture than anything, knowing that Prentice wasn’t as prone to drink as the rest of the family—but he was pleased with the unexpected turn of events. “Well, I’ll be damned. Who or what do I have to thank for loosening you up?” he asked, amused.

“You’ll have to excuse me, my Lord.” Prentice grunted as he set down his tankard. Already, with a single draught, he’d consumed nearly half of it. “I’m afraid I’ve let the events of the past few weeks get to me.” He gave that as an excuse instead, grimacing slightly when he heard Isiah’s casual who?, the vision of a certain brunette flashing in his mind’s eye. 

@spear-bearer 

Prentice watched his daughter observe the room from the doorway, trying to mask his hurt when she dismissed it with a simple ‘it’s nice, I guess.’ He’d tried to make it as suitable for her as possible, even resorting to asking a female acquaintance her opinion on what should go into a teenager’s room. It seemed he failed, after all. 

      “Well hello there, come on in! It’s still a little early for the regular crowd so our bartender’s out, but I can get you whatever you want.” Isiah called over his shoulder when he heard steps coming in from Sky Lounge’s foyer, turning to press his hands to the bar’s smooth wood surface. “What’ll it be? Coca-Cola? Root beer?”