Renly’s retort came without pause for thought, “And I heard you and Robert. Doesn't surprise me, he's a squealer,” then after a rumbling chuckle, clarified, “Loras, that is. Robert’s a banshee, hoots and hollers like he’s just won the Battle of Bannockburn with his cock up the English General’s asshole.”
“But you already knew that.”
Obviously, Jon knew well the facts concealed in Renly’s rather, shall one say, colourful retelling of decisive Scottish victory. Had studied the infamy in great detail from scholarly tomes at the London Library and a site visit during sixth form college; even had the honor of perusing rarest, firsthand accounts of the two day battle as preserved on bloodied parchment a tangible portal linking today with yesteryear. Much as both men - to Jon’s clear discomfort as noted by blazing red cheeks against the blackness of his beard - had studied the varied sexual facades of Robb McLellan up close and personal, “firsthand” accounts and much, much more.
Although apparently, Renly had been quite shockingly off the mark in his cheek! Truth of the matter only brought to light by Jon’s embarrassed stumbling, he explained that, “No, that’s not exactly what I meant,” no Peeping Toms without permission - granted quickly and cheerfully that very instant - but that his comment in reference to the taxi ride home had been because, “I heard what you whispered in his ear.” A rather different affair altogether requiring further silence flood the kitchen.
Plink! went the electric kettle and Renly’s left eyebrow cocking high on wrinkled forehead. What started out simply as grabbing a glass of water was proving to be quite the lucrative affair with house guest so obviously - painfully and awkwardly even - attempting to mend bonds broken by jealousy and pride long before they’d ever been properly introduced. Renly recognised that outstretched hand and the invisible chains against which it struggled for freedom.
Progress of a snail’s sort made between them in that moment, then, and Renly maintained the engaging silence with tea and conversation left all to Jon. Least the spell be broken and wee creature slime prematurely back into its shell.