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

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.}

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From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot cheerfully follows Grantaire. "I am certain he's picked the perfect one."

Edited Date: 2024-08-15 10:57 pm (UTC)

From:

sagramore

"Oh, there's no question."

From:

futaille

"I wouldn't say any are imperfect, as they all have the capability of providing whatever you'd like. The difference is all in the ambiance." He gets to the closest bar and enters.

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Explain 'ambience.'" Then, after a moment, "I mean to say -- I understand the term but not what thou dost mean by it."

From:

sagramore

"Indeed. Pontificate on the ambience here."

From:

futaille

He picked it because it was close, but... "It's a small and charming one. Homey. Cozy, in a way."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Ah, so how a place feels?"

From:

sagramore

"The coziness of having alcohol in it?"

From:

futaille

"They all have alcohol. They still feel different. Not that the alcohol isn't the most important part."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"I trust in thee," he says, loftily, taking a barstool as a seat.

From:

sagramore

"As do I, don't let him outdo me in protesting."

From:

futaille

"Oh, is there protesting afoot?" He heads behind the bar.

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"I outdo him in many respects," mildly, "he is sensitive about it."

From:

sagramore

"Protesting our trust, aye. I'm still older than thee, and wiser and more mature."

From:

futaille

He laughs a little. "Noted on all counts." He retrieves three fluted glasses and mixes brandy and champagne in each of them, passing them out. "And enjoy."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot raises his glass, then gives Grantaire a flirtatious look. After he sips the drink he says to Sagramore, "Art only older than me here. Wiser? Mature? I can't say."

From:

sagramore

Sagramore takes a drink of his own. "Thou canst not say because thou art not wise enough."

From:

futaille

He grins at Lancelot's expression before sipping his own. "Now, as I have no wisdom to speak of, making this particular judgment is entirely beyond me."