Who: Sandro, ? When: Day 54, late afternoon Where: The Red Keep Rating: PG 13 Status: Open.
He was grateful he had awoken to find he had not dreamt of his conversation with Sindra, although certain parts of that evening just after... Gods, how did his nephew manage to walk after that last round? It had been a long, long, hideously long morning. It would not have been so bad, but everyone seemed to insist on being very loud, and moving disconcertingly fast. Sandro was comforted only by the fact that his men who had accompanied them were in far worse shape than he. Sandro was at least moving. And as far as he could discern, had no visible damage to his person aside from a few interesting bruises. Remarkable considering the sheer number of bodies involved in that last brawl. A good thing he owned that tavern.
Ah, and the first pillowhouse. That had indeed been worth the money. The girls were not quite courtesans but they were hardly forgettable.
A voice stirred the ambassador from his somewhat muddled reverie. Ah, yes. He turned with a courtly smile. "I am sorry? An old man wanders in his thoughts quite far..."