[Open Post] ..only want to glean the purpose..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Since they learned of Shen Yuan's death, things have been subdued; rightly so, Lancelot reasons. He has done what he can to be a support for those he loves, and to keep his own worry and anxiety at bay. He worries about how they are all doing, about whether or not they are safe, about what he can do to make anything better -- which often feels like nothing. It's unsettling, and he wants to stay settled and present for them, so he determines to find a way to be so.

As has always been the case for him, being outside helps. The weather is warming and true spring is settling in. (He has difficulty keeping track of what time may be like back in Britain¹, but he suspects that it is early summer there. If so, then he supposes that means he is another year older, which is a strangely hopeful thought.) And so, after his lunch with Susan, he heads back out -- he might ride, or walk through the woods, or explore the lake. Whatever keeps him out in the sunshine, under the sky.



^{1: He has not quite realized this yet, but he has generally stopped thinking "at home" when he means Camelot, or Britain in general. That this place -- no, these people -- have become home in so short a span is something he has to take by degrees, lest he worry about what it means for his relationship with those he left behind there.}

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

As they approach the mansion, Lancelot holds the door open for Grantaire. "Let's hope we can get to the bottom of this. I know he's planned it to irk us."

[futaille]

Grantaire steps through the door with a wry smile. "I'm a little impressed at the ingenuity, honestly."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"He loves to be a thorn in my side," dry, but fond.

[futaille]

"There really is something delightful about being a thorn sometimes."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I can only pray that the two of thee don't band together against me."

[futaille]

"Oh, now that you put the thought in my head, I have no guarantees."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Alas! Very well. Let it be a test of my love for thee."

[futaille]

He laughs almost incredulously. "If you'd like to phrase it so."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I just did," with exaggerated cheer, "so clearly I would indeed like to."

[futaille]

"Ah, true. People never do things they don't like, after all."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Well, that's not true, but I feel thou dost take my meaning."

[futaille]

He lets out a short laugh. "Clearly my thoughts are entirely too legible at the moment, as you are quite correct."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Someday I will speak of my fondness for thee and thou wilt not argue back," as they enter the game room.

[futaille]

"Not impossible, I suppose, although the number of things I don't argue about is vanishingly small." He grins. "As I said. General annoyance." And then he makes a beeline for the pinball table. "And speaking of annoyances..."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, let me see the damage," he says, following Grantaire.

[futaille]

He nods and gestures to the display window, and as the top score cycles back onto it, proudly emblazoned with SAG and a score overtopping a billion points, he throws his hands in the air. "And there we have it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"This cannot be accurate. He's pulled some trick."

In truth, in Lancelot's mind, it's equally likely that Sagramore somehow magically became a pinball wizard or Sagramore has found some other way to manipulate the score. (Lancelot himself has let his practice drop off; he might wish he were a little less competitive, but seeing that score grates.)

[futaille]

"It's certainly something. If it were legitimate, he would have had to come bragging to us by now."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot makes a thinking sound, "That's true. If it were skill, he would've come straight away. Instead, he's waiting for us to find him."

[futaille]

"Exactly. He's letting us stew on it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Well, then," straightening and giving Grantaire a conspiratorial grin, "we cannot simply confront him, can we?"

[futaille]

He leans his elbows on the top of the pinball table, intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I'm not sure yet. We need something that will get his attention, and that he will know is from us."

[futaille]

"Hm. Well, it can't be on this particular playing field, certainly."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"No, though I wish to God I knew how he managed it."