[Closed Post: En Garde]

[timebethine]

Just as Laertes has developed his own routine here--the regular rounds of breakfasts and dinners do much to give shape to his otherwise formless days--he's observed others' routines. Lancelot, for one, always trains at the same time every morning. At times, as he's shuttled back and forth between the clay bed by the lakeside and his kiln, Laertes has ridden Fenyes past the training yard while Lancelot has been practicing, and he'd reviewed the other man's swordplay with a critical eye. Watching him wheel and thrust in the cool grey light of morning, a part of him has craved the challenge of a second duel.

Today, he sates that craving. He strolls up on Lancelot with a thin, sheathed blade in one hand and his rapier buckled at his waist. "Hallo," he calls. "Wouldst thou like to try a rapier?"

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gasps then does his best to look mock-scandalized, "Who hast told thee such falsehoods?"

[timebethine]

"There are no secrets in a marriage bed, and so thou wert betrayed," says Laertes mock-dolefully. A shiver goes through him as the wind picks up; his hooded sweatshirt isn't quite warm enough to keep out the stiff breeze. "Art thou finished here? Or wouldst thou go again?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"An thou'rt ready to retire, so am I," easily. He retrieves the scabbard. "And I am sorry to say, but thy husband -- right though he may be that I am not the victor at all games of pinball -- is no great pinball player."

[timebethine]

"A good thing that I set him no challenge for my hand, or I'd be unwed to this day," laughs Laertes as he starts back toward the mansion. "Now, tell me--what in God's name is pinball?" Sagramore, drunk as a lord and spilling out of Laertes's lap in every direction, had been less than helpful in explaining.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs, "It is a-- well. A singular entertainment. I can show thee, but Grantaire is the expert."

[timebethine]

"I'm at thy disposal; my only plans for today were to spar with thee and to make breakfast, since it's Tress's day for supper."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Let us have some coffee, first, perhaps. 'Tis cold out here, though we've been active."

[timebethine]

"Gladly, then--dost thou like Sagramore's Turkish coffee? I can make that for thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I don't know that I've had that, exactly, but yes. I'd like that."

[timebethine]

"It's very strong," Laertes warns. "And the grounds lie thick in it; I like it well, but thou mayest not."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot grins and shrugs. He says lightly, "Perhaps 'tis a time for trying new things."

[timebethine]

"There's little I like better--Sagramore and I have started making cheese, if thou canst credit it! There's still some left; canst have it with toast and jam, an thou likest." He gets the door and holds it open for Lancelot.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs quietly, "I can credit that. The two of thee have more projects than I can count."

[timebethine]

"This one was Sagramore's idea--he knows I love nothing more than to learn a new skill." His eyes shine with delight at the chance to speak well of Sagramore. "I'll find out whether there are any Hungarian cheeses, and learn to make them. A part of him is rooted there, although I think he was often unhappy in Hungary; I want nothing more than to nourish that root until it blooms into something joyous." They head into the kitchen, where Laertes takes down the cezve and starts preparing the other coffee things.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles at him -- the clear joy they have in one another is touching. It gives him a kind of hope. He goes to lean against the counter and watch Laertes' preparations.

"If anyone can figure it out, 'tis thee, I'm certain."

[timebethine]

Laertes flaps a hand at him. "Go to--there's bread in the box. Do thou put it in the toaster" and here Laertes indicates the stainless steel toaster on the counter "and push down the lever, and we'll have toast with cheese and jam for breakfast."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, very well." He immediately and rather cheerfully sets to his task.

[timebethine]

Soon enough, Laertes has a pot of coffee ready; he pours it out into a pair of small, intricately painted blue ceramic cups, then fetches out the herbed chèvre and a jar of marmalade from the refrigerator for the toast. "I take sugar in my coffee," he says, "but Sagramore likes his plain. Wouldst thou have sweet, or bitter?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot considers, "Bitter-- an I like it not, I will add in sugar."

[timebethine]

Then Laertes passes him a cup, and doctors his own with half a spoonful of sugar before cupping it in both hands and sipping.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot takes his and sips -- he finds he likes it just as well as the coffee that is sometimes in the café. He settles onto a stool near the counter, looking pleased & tousled.

[timebethine]

Laertes can't help sneaking grins at him as he begins spreading cheese and marmalade over the toast that Lancelot has made. "Thy humor's improved in the last weeks," he says. "I'm heartily glad for it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Is it so noticeable?" This is, largely, a joke. He sips his coffee.

[timebethine]

"It is. Ought I to lay this miraculous recovery at Susan's feet?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles, bright and immediate, which is as good a confirmation as any. But he says, "Susan, yes. But not only Susan. Thou hast been a good friend to me. Thy husband has, as well, in ways that never fail to surprise me."