Pearly whites gleaming impishly in dappled sunlight, Robb lifted highball glass for small, sociable sip of early afternoon bevvie. Two parts vodka, five parts cranberry juice and game-altering addition of fresh pineapple juice (he generally disliked the taste of grapefruit for all the obvious reasons) made for a refreshing thirst-quencher. A good day so far, made that much better with Daenerys as perfect accompaniment to all the healthy outdoor gawking they'd participated in the last little while. And while Robb didn't know the first thing about polo, he'd enjoyed Very Important Person status of box seats and after-match lounging amongst the local jetset. Highbrow to be sure, but so long as the views were nice - absolutely no fault found in lean, long-legged athletes that would give him and Jon plenty of future wank material - and everyone in their little group was happy, then he was happy.
"I expected as much myself." Robb chuckled under his breath, plucking lime wedge from the rim of his glass before dropping it onto a nearby cocktail napkin. He hated things cluttering up his drinking space. Wee girly paper umbrellas and plastic swords skewering maraschino cherries were the absolute worst in his book.
"Personally, I was hoping for a mad two-step or ceremonial chant with some painted nutter thumping a set of bongos."
That got them both snickering like naughty schoolchildren, which helped to ease matched feelings of being... well, a few rungs down on the ladder, you could say. Dany might've agonized about sticking out in the crowd now that the very same crowd's attention was no longer focused on so many horses and riders but he thought she looked brilliant. Strapless jewel tone frock caught the light in such a way that rich pigment shimmered and brought out hidden flecks of violet in her eyes. Who said a girl had to be born with a silver spoon in her mouth to look like she'd stepped from a fairytale? A quirky, very modern retelling but a fairy tale nonetheless.
He looked then to Jon and lover's lordly father, chin jutting forward in almost silent accusation.
"Although money can spot other money, I reckon..."