In Which Sparron Strives for a Normal Encounter

October 24, 1181

Florian, Sparron suspected, had only shown up at the inn as a last minute, distant-yet-obvious chaperone, going along with it more for Sparron's father's piece of mind than any actual risk of danger. It was just a night out with a couple friends, after all--nothing he wouldn't have been allowed to do ten years prior. Hell, when Jadin had showed up at the castle with Isidro in tow, Sparron's father had practically pushed him out the door along with them. Given Florian's arrival time, it must have been at least ten minutes before the worry had set in.

But if one did have to be chaperoned at twenty-five, Sparron had to grudgingly admit that there wasn't any chaperone he'd pick over Florian.

"Well, now I know you're hoarding all your best stuff."

"I don't hoard a drop. You're just being contrary for the simple joy of bothering me. It's completely different."

"Not even slightly different! You haven't done a damn thing with this place since you opened, and I've been coming here long enough to know that."

"Apparently you haven't." Behind the counter, Seoth shuddered. "Not something I ever thought I'd say. But that aside, why do you think we were closed week if we weren't renovating?"

"I don't know... maybe cleanup after the Toad Olympics?"

"Maybe that's why they had to renovate," Sparron quipped. He'd only had one drink and not a strong one at that, but if Florian would have to report back to his father, there had to be at least some reassuring news. A few more outgoing moments wouldn't hurt.

"But they didn't renovate!"

"Oh, come off it, Florian." Isidro picked a bit of the rind from a slice of ham and popped it into his mouth with the casual ease of Dionysus with a grape. Sparron stared down at the table. He didn't want to get into the habit of comparing his friends to pagan gods. "The place is completely different."

No glance was required to know that Florian was scowling. Seoth, however, sighed with relief. "Thank you!"

"I try to be honest. I think the renovations turned out well." Isidro shot a side-eye at Jadin as Sparron dared look back up. "Better than Jadin's, at least."

Sparron couldn't help it--he snorted. At least Florian could be happy about that.

Jadin frowned, though the ridiculous hairs above of his lip ruined the effect. "Are you making a crack about my amazing mustache?"

"Your amazingly horrible mustache," Isidro corrected. "Seriously, what does Xeta think of that thing?"

"She can't get enough of it. She likes the way it feels on her lips."

"Jadin, no woman would want that near her face." A sentiment to which Sparron was relieved he could relate.

But Jadin nudged his brows up and down a couple times, smirking. "Good thing I wasn't talking about the lips on her face."

Isidro groaned. Seoth took to massaging his temples and Florian applauded. Sparron supposed that left him for the comeback. "You do probably have more hair there than you do on your cock."

Another clap from the bar. Not that that was the sort of comment he would have wanted getting back to his father, but surely it beat whatever the poor man was expecting?

Jadin certainly hadn't been expecting it. "Hey! You weren't so mean when he--" He reached across the table and grabbed Isidro by the scruff on his chin, marking his target despite being quickly batted away. "--grew this."

"Because that doesn't look stupid."

"As if. You're just jealous because you could never pull this off."

"Of course I couldn't. No one could." Isidro seemed to get it. Jadin, though, might have needed the extra emphasis. "That includes you."

"Oh, just you wait. Give it another few weeks, and soon every man in Naroni..." The inn's door open and Jadin glanced over, then trailed off, face white enough to make the mustache even more prominent. It wasn't difficult to see why. "Oh, uh... hello, brother."

"Oh. Jadin." Searle wiped his eyes as Jadin turned his head, a visible swallow in his throat. Given his recent history with the inn, if Searle was here alone, that couldn't have been a good sign. "Isidro." He didn't even look at Sparron.

It wasn't a surprise, though. Of his own design, Sparron had not seen Searle since he'd approached him with that one last mission--the last thing he'd ever ask of anyone, he'd decided. Maybe it had been cruel, reverting to that distance so quickly after such a plea, but as always... it was for the best. And now that Searle knew any friendship would likely be short-lived anyway...

Of course, friendship was out of the question.

"Uh... I was just..." Fretting, Searle's eyes darted between Jadin and Seoth. He'd clearly come to drink, but now he couldn't. There were too many people here who would stop him. "I, uh..."

Stupid boy never could lie worth shit. Seoth's scrutinous, wallet-sizing leer couldn't have helped. "I..."

"Here, sit with us."

Isidro blinked. So did Jadin. It was not before then that Sparron realized neither of them had said it. Shit. "Er... if you want to, that is."

Well, Searle was looking at him now. It had been less painful when he'd made a point not to. "Do you want me to?"

Sparron sighed. He hated that the others were in the room, and that Searle was. He hated that he wasn't five years old and Florian could mutter a hasty 'time to go now' as soon as the room went sour. He hated that simple questions had complicated answers. "I wouldn't have asked if I objected."

"That doesn't mean you want me to."

Florian rustled while Isidro and Jadin shared another look. Jadin knew, and that was uncomfortable enough. What if the others did? Or worse, what if they didn't quite, but they did suspect? Was Searle really going to make him do this now?

In the interests of keeping things from getting worse, Sparron relented. "Yes, I want you to. Now sit down."

The move worked--thank God. Searle took the empty seat without any further fuss. Not that anyone else had lost their edges, as Isidro proved with a raised brow. Did he know? He must have known. Isidro was about the opposite of Searle in every other way, so it served to reason that he knew everything. At least he'd had the courtesy not to mention it. "So. How are you, Searle?"

Searle shrugged. "All right, I guess."

"Well, that's better than we can say for Jadin's mustache."

Sparron smiled at his own joke, but he'd failed to get one out of Searle. A pity. If only Searle had smiled, this could have possibly passed for a normal encounter. His father had better not have tasked Florian with riding home with him as well.

"Shut up! Searle likes my mustache."

Over Jadin's shoulder, Searle smiled somewhat. It was good to see that someone had managed. "I don't dislike your mustache..."

"See? He loves it! Watch, he'll have one just like it in a month."

Sparron doubted it. Though, if anyone could pull it off...

No. He wasn't going to think that. If he wanted this to pass for a normal encounter, it had to look like one.

Searle or no Searle, it had to be normal. His father wouldn't have sent Florian if he didn't have any questions in mind. Everything had to be normal.

And, as always, nothing was.

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