A smile to snare the Devil baited attentions of the three now staring in Renly's direction. Brown, blue and painted, each pair of eyes projected distinct expectations as to what snapping remark might loose the trap to clamp metal teeth about tender hindquarters. An opinionated anecdote, Z-snapping retort or catty criticism all standards but tonight, Renly couldn't be bothered to impress any of them.
Verging on classy drunk with prick-popping She-man wedged between Brutini and blueberry vodka martini, he gave all of a gentle, shrugging fuck about the Starks. Eddard's parenting or any sort of tongue lashing that didn't directly involve Renly himself and some young bit of tasty's quivering hole held no interest at the end of a long week.
This, however, best friend's bright as stardust beam burning up the atmosphere, nothing but 'Clear skies ahead...' weather forecast luring them into a weekend chock-a-block with adventure tweaked Renly's amusement.
"Exceptionally," he chuckled in reply. A deep-throated (Hah!) rumbling sort of laughter that when paired with Robb's gave Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde something to strive towards.
It was pleasing to see Robb happy again. Budged up tight with blue-ribboned piece of arse, lad at the county fair visibly brightened with intoxicating glee at a job well done. Information Renly filed in his mental cabinets - never truly off the clock - in contrast to the pitiful, mousy lump his best friend had embodied during Jon's travels. Barely able to coax even a tenth of the joy he radiated this evening during that dark weekend spent in Santa Ana home a rather juicy tidbit he planned on chewing at great length, saving choice mouthfuls for Loras; whatever gumdrops required to trace winding path from tonight to ultimate fantasy cabin willingly shared with his partner in crime.
They'd done something right, it seemed. Advice earlier in the week offered where none had been solicited, British couple verging on gag-me sweetness reminded Renly to find a quiet moment to check in with his protégé. Ensure the often thick-skulled, red-blooded male wasn’t deserving of his own sharp edge of something altogether less pleasant than a tongue up the backside.
“My drink is nearly empty,” came hoity-toity announcement following measured sigh. This really was the lifestyle most suiting to Renly Baratheon. “Cum Fuck Me, anyone?”