Creator have mercy, but Lord Daphisio Taraias had raised a questionable family. Although even as she regarded the heir of Taraias (Creator help Daphisio on that matter) over the top of her spectacles, Delyth had to admit that was not entirely fair. The girls had turned out reasonably well, even if Janna now tried to hydrate herself with strong ale. There was something… off about Sir Amadeo, though, and it seemed Sir Daemyn was just pleased as punch with the idea of displaying at least one of his vices in what many would consider respectable company. “I am very nearly tempted to send word to your father that you’ve been sent to bed without supper,” she commented, eyebrow arching pointedly on the word ‘father’. “Of course, then it would have to be explained why, at some point, you might have been rapped on the knuckles with Lady Bamford’s cane.”
“And yet his blade stands erect more oft than yours,” Delyth threw back without missing a beat, her face an impassive mask giving no hint for or against her knowledge of the double entendre. It would take an idiot, however, to believe the lady had not been aware of her words. That her remark had made the lady beside her blush was actually quite absurd. She had heard far, far worse at the performances put on for peasants in the town -- where children could hear. Delyth did not necessarily wish to ridicule Daemyn -- he did that perfectly adequately on his own -- but it was bad form to snipe at someone when they were not around to defend themselves. (A rule of thumb that she applied to everyone but herself.) “Janna has had more practice than you, dear.” With a faintly sad smile, Delyth recalled the girl as she bad been when she first came to court. As quickly as it came, the expression hardened into a wry humour. “Like most good students, she also continues to practice even after she has the art perfected.” It did her no good, but that went without saying.
Delyth had been about to remark on the fabric of his clothing; how she hoped none of it was suede if he was only going to throw water everywhere… Instead, her eyebrows raised in something resembling curiosity at his toast. She was actually a little taken aback. More so when she caught people in her periphery also raising their glasses. “Sentiments like those are why an old woman can’t die in peace,” was the eventual, amused response. Shortly followed by her own glass raising, “And may you wake without a hangover.”