[Open Post] ..Tuesday afternoon..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot feels that things have been a strange mix of tumult and routine. This is probably because they have. But today, so far, is routine in all respects. His day has proceeded apace through his usual steps -- drills, tending to Rivelin, coffee, lunch with Susan -- and the afternoon is now stretching out before him in a very satisfying way. He feels good, settled.

And so it is that he's in the café, reading (or mostly reading), with more coffee at hand. Given that he seems to be splitting time equally between having his eyes on his book and gazing out the window, he will not be bothered if anyone comes to chat.

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

A laugh, "Christ, that's so-- but how am I meant to concentrate now?"

[futaille]

"Oh no, what a dreadful state of affairs." Is he on the verge of laughter? Absolutely.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Monstrous," laughing again. He turns back to the table, takes a breath, and lets the last ball fly.

[futaille]

"At least you now get more practice keeping your concentration in extraordinary circumstances now. Focusing on the game instead of a future painting of a potted lily."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Or Christ knows what else." Since he's now less focused, he's also less reserved in his play, a little more expressive or mobile. He is very much doomed to get nowhere near the score he needs, but that only really means he has given himself permission to relax a little.

[futaille]

"I have a suspicion that Christ has more important things to bother with than knowing about what you might be focusing on while playing pinball."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thou'rt likely correct," flicking a quick glance over at Grantaire.

[futaille]

He laughs. "Although what a world if He didn't."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh? Think'st thou there would be a great difference?"

[futaille]

"It seems to me that such a circumstance would be formed from a great difference. Imagine a world in which there was nothing of greater import that could distract the Almighty from this game. It would be an impossible utopia."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Fair point," though now his attention is a little more on the game. Perhaps if he can manage another multiball?

[futaille]

"I should note that down, I rarely make good points."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Are thy limitations to be mine as well?"

[futaille]

"Oh, you can make all the good points you'd like."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs, "Thou'rt increasingly distracting."

[futaille]

"It is my goal, so you bring good tidings. Of course, you very much chose that complication when you decided you wanted me to see your ultimate victory."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"So I did, but that victory is, alas, out of reach."

[futaille]

He laughs. "There's nothing but time, at least, even if you don't get there now."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gives it one last shot, but his overreach for the mutliball is his final undoing, and the game ends. He says, "Ach-- there. I have only increased my own challenge."

[futaille]

"It was a valiant effort, and I commend you for it even though it fell short." He grins. "I will admit I was worried at the start."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Is that so?"

[futaille]

"Of course it is. It was an excellent beginning."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He looks very pleased, "Well. I shall take it as advancement. It's no hardship to continue practicing."

[futaille]

He laughs at that. "I would hope it's no hardship. I would not in general recommend putting yourself through hardship for the cause of recreation."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot grins, "Why sir, that is my profession."

This is, of course, not strictly true, though arguably tourneys are a part of his job.