@ciara-di-serra It was getting late. Filippo had lost count of how many times his cup had been refilled. After his fourth snap to the serving boy behind him the drink had been fluid in coming. He no longer noticed it. The dancing had finished. The court had settled to their cups to watch the spectacles paraded before them. First there were jesters, then jugglers, all to the accompaniment of the fast beat of the southern traditional melodies. Now there was wrestling and l decorum had been loosened to allow the men of the court to cheer, egging on the losers and winners alike. Hats were passed about filled with coins as bets were taken, and wine sloshed onto the floor as they banged their cups in elation and disappointment. Filippo watched the goings on behind the sluggish haze in his eyes. He usually enjoyed this kind of sport but with Fabrizio so close nerves made him tense. Every now and then he'd catch his cousins eye and each time he found it more difficult to stare down. When his cousin moved towards him he found the hairs on his skin rise along his arms. The grip he had on his cup grew tighter. "Cousin," Fabrizio nodded, seating himself easily beside him. "Cousin."
