[Open Post] ..like the bird that you can't see..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot is in a very good mood indeed. He feels settled, assured. He feels as he did, he thinks, back when he first found his feet at court -- he is someplace he belongs, he can be assured that people will treat him with respect, if not kindness or welcoming. He lets himself revel in it, a little, as it's been a long while since he felt anywhere near as nice as this.

The weather is good: sunny, crisp, the familiar feeling of autumn as winter is hovering close by. He goes to his own room and fetches his sword. He runs his usual drills, though with a kind of ease and almost carelessness he hasn't had since he was young. (Perhaps he is young enough, still. He can't be sure. He has already lived past the age his father was when he died, but that means almost nothing. His father died in battle and Lancelot is, now, no longer likely to ever see such a fate.)

Afterwards, he showers and decides he might as well find breakfast. So he's now heading toward one of the kitchens, looking cheerful for once.

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[lanselos_du_lac]

"In that case, I'll not refuse thee. Thou'rt a fine cook, and it is no hard task to enjoy what I'm granted."

[timebethine]

At the café, Laertes sets down the tray on a table near the coffee machines and takes a plate and a fork for himself. "Didst thou see the talent show?" he asks. "Forgive me; I ought to have looked for thee there."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I did. I was impressed by thee," sincerely. He takes his own portion and sits across from Laertes.

[timebethine]

"Ah, that was nothing--didst thou hear the poems that Sagramore read? I felt my heart would be rent asunder."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I-- yes," he's momentarily a little flustered, but it passes quickly, "I was moved. In truth, it was a very good display. I feel I know few enough people here, but it was good to see what everyone can do."

[timebethine]

Laertes grins and points a forkful of crepes at him. One end unwinds and drips strawberry juice and cream onto his plate. "What was on thy mind there? Something touching thy Susan? Or mine own Sagramore?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"No -- nothing. Or, well--" He winces. Laertes is like this, he doesn't mind it, but he isn't sure he has words for any of this. He says again, "I was moved." Then he pauses and continues, "Some bit of homesickness. There are... people I miss. But things here are improving, and in some ways better than I have been in a very long time. 'Tis hard not to feel it strongly."

[timebethine]

"Ay, so it is," says Laertes, sobering. "In mine own time, mine own world, all I miss is my sister. The rest, I would leave behind me, and like Lot, I would never look back."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot looks down at his plate, "I still feel adrift, much of the time, but now that there are things and people which--"

What he is trying to say, though he doesn't really know it, is that he's started to feel as if he is healing some of the wounds he'd gained over the last months. He sighs, shrugs, and says again, "Things are improving."

[timebethine]

"Is there aught I can do to speed thee to gladness?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He gives himself a little shake -- he is glad, so long as he doesn't get tangled in his own thoughts.

Lancelot takes a breath and smiles again, sincerely, thinking back on the previous evening. "Oh, hast already lent thy hand to that. As I said, I shared thy gift with Susan, and it was perfect accompaniment."

[timebethine]

"Then I'll toast to thy happiness," says Laertes, with a ceremonious lift of the fork. "If I can aid thee in any other scheme, it would be my pleasure."

[lanselos_du_lac]

With a little laugh, he raises his own fork, "Should I have anything, I shall come and find thee. I will tell you, though, that I am very glad of her. It is nice to be understood and heard--" He hurries on to add, "--not that thou hast not heard and understood me, only that the connection is different."

[timebethine]

"Ay--I'd gladly bed thee, an that should be thy wish, but even if I did, thy friendship with her is of a different character entirely. She sees thee, and it ennobles thee to be held in her regard." He smiles. "It makes me glad to see thee happy."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot nearly goes scarlet at that admission, though he manages to maintain some kind of dignity about it. "Aye," after he very carefully swallows his bite of crepe, "You see the right of it, and I am very much happy, today."

[timebethine]

Satisfied that he has caused a small, harmless amount of mayhem, Laertes sits back and finishes his breakfast in companionable silence.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot does the same, though as he is finishing and setting down his fork he asks, cautiously, "Is that true? What you said."

[timebethine]

"Ay, I'm glad to see thee happy."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He shakes his head, "No, the-- other part."

[timebethine]

"Ah--yes. It's of no moment to me; I only remember that thou wert flirting a little, that day on the boat. But palinka makes men melancholy or merry, and thou wert merry indeed with me. Ask me to forget it, and it's forgotten." Laertes gathers up his plate, then reaches for Lancelot's.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot pulls it away, keeping his eyes on Laertes, "Was I flirting?"

He might have been. He very well might have been. But he wants to understand how Laertes recalls it. However, before Laertes can answer he says, "I'd not have thee forget it, but-- I thought thy kiss a jest."

[timebethine]

"Not a jest. Only--thou wert not sure whether thou wert flirting, or nay. I thought only, 'if I kiss him, and it likes him well, then he was flirting; if not, then it was all in play.'" He draws back his hand. "I'm sorry."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Another little head-shake, "Don't be sorry. Hast caused me no offense, I'm only surprised. And somewhat at myself."

He looks thoughtful, then hands the plate to Laertes. "I was drunk, it's true, but I felt comfortable. It did surprise me, and I didn't think anything was meant by it, but-- and-- Sagramore--"

[timebethine]

Laertes takes it and stacks it with his own, settling the forks on top. "Ay, thou saidst he kissed thee, too."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He nods and makes a thoughtful sound. His brow is furrowed. "So, shouldst thou lie with me, it would not go ill with him?"