For all his mercurial nature, there was always something comfortingly consistent in Loras' behaviour. That said, Loras was sure he'd never looked so frayed and pale in his entire life. He needn't look up, but having been waylaid by the unmistakable tone he heard come wafting through the air, Loras' gaze snapped from the bar top to the direction it came from. He'd been certain that once he looked up, there would only be a common man with a common face and common clothes, perhaps even a man who didn't match the voice at all.
Looking up brought no relief. He wavered absently, almost artlessly on his stool, his fingers prime to stir the water that had been set in front of him. Blue eyes darted across the man's sharp, chiseled features. The eyes were quick, but Loras saw everything slowly. Once, he knew this man's hair had been long, longer than Loras' own. He knew how it felt between his knuckles, all thick and silken, that memory was strong and very much alive. He knew everything about the man who was speaking, that he was kind and beautiful, he knew the noises he made, he knew the way the bob of his throat felt against his lips...
Oh. God...
"Renly..."
The name was but a breath, utterly and undeniably worshipful. Loras' cheeks blazed red. He felt hot all over and burning tears stung at his eyes. He was certain his heart was going to explode in his chest. He was standing without realizing it, his legs having gone numb. It was another dream, that was all. Wasn't it? Just another dream. He'd wake up, and Garrus would be there instead. He'd welcome another punch in the jaw if it would just get him out of here.