Jaime is furious, and his sister is an idiot, but all things considered, he'd rather have it this way than their roles reversed. Which is, as he feels the weight of his golden hand, the first time that's been the truth in a while. Best not to think on that, though. Moving onto more pressing matters
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Hi, Jaime! Here's a boy you might know.
Standing a bit away, his expression has suddenly gone completely and totally blank.
On the other hand, the pony-sized wolf next to him's expression is not blank at all. Lips curled back from enormous fangs, Grey Wind is not pleased. It shows. And Robb is considering just letting him have at. For now, keeping one hand on his ruff and one near the sword on his hip, he says nothing, letting Jaime take the fact that he exists in.
He figures he can leave the talking to that one.
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There's only so long a man can willfully ignore the sound of a snarling wolf before, when the creature fails to disappear as hoped, he either accepts the fact that he has indeed gone mad, or turns to face it. And Ser Jaime Lannister earned his epithet in a way that will cause him to never accept going mad.
He puts Cersei's letter away in a pocket of his breaches, and turns, trying to hide his surprise at finding a man who should be dead and... well, isn't, really.
Not to mention the wolf.
Bugger bugger bugger bugger.
It's a mocking tone, with a smile to fit, "Your grace."
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He doesn't sic Grey Wind on him yet, though. Not quite sure his father would approve. And decides to cut to the chase.
"You bastard."
And while Robb does tend more toward the heated anger end of things, right now it's the icy Stark rage coming out, and it's quite a bit more dangerous. Grey Wind tugs at the restraining hand, clearly not pleased with this business. And growls louder.
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He's still Lannister. He's still Kingslayer.
He's still Jaime.
"Ask your father about those, I'd not know enough on the subject to adequately inform." At least it wasn't a your mom jape, that would be disgraceful. In the meanwhile, Jaime wonders what he'll do if the Stark boy lets up his hold on the wolf. With no sword and one hand, he can... punch it in the face. Right.
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"Ah. You're lost, aren't you?"
I will admit, I had trouble finding people in my roster who never heard the name Lannister before... AND WELCOME TO DF.
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And he tries not to comment on her... odd clothing. At the very least.
"Lost may not be the word I'd use, but it seems I may be in need of optimism." Facepalm-- oh, wait, only one hand. No one saw that.
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"So. Before you ask, let me give you the run down. This isn't anywhere you know. It's called the Mansion, and no, I didn't bring you here, I just woke up here one day. You probably can't go back, unless you're a very special snowflake. Also, there isn't any food so you'll have to hunt or trade or whatever, but for some reason we have electricity and unlimited rooms in that crazy frat house."
A pause, and she adds, again, "Blake. Anita Blake. And whatever you do, don't call me Lady, I hate that."
Sorry, Jaime. Anita has seen too many arrivals.
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Which is all he can do to keep himself from asking 'Frat house? Electricity? How else would someone get food?' and other questions that would eventually boil down to woman what are you talking about.
Luckily for Jaime, none of this (or, not most of it) shows too much on outward features.
"Ser Jaime Lannister." Don't call him Kingslayer, he hates that. "A pleasure, Anita."
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Sandor is leaning on the doorframe, watching Jaime with his mouth twisted slightly. Just when he thought he was done with that family, of course they would have to go turning up again. And probably complicate things more. Marvelous.
But he'll be damned if he's going to put up with it this time. No more leashes, right? "Kingslayer," almost amused. Considering the Stark boys reaction to him, he wonders if he shouldn't just bid him farewell preemptively.
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"Hound." Name-calling is the hobby of dignified gentlemen everywhere. He turns to face his favorite of the brothers Clegane, which, considering, well... the brothers Clegane, isn't saying all that much.
"Is this where you ran off to with your tail between your legs?"
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Sandor is Sandor's favorite of the brothers Clegane too, and considering Sandor's opinion of himself, that's also not saying much. But. "No, actually, that was elsewhere. At least I didn't coming running back with my tail between my legs."
His mouth quirks slightly. "You seem to have lost something."
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He has to agree with Sandor's logic, though, about not running back. In the world of manly men such as themselves, this amounts to not commenting on it, a surefire signal that, yes, you've got a point, there. Instead he comments on what's been lost.
"So long as what I've lost isn't my mind," He motions around them, at this, at all this, "I have no issue with the state of things."
Which is as close to where in all the seven hells am I? as Jaime Lannister is going to get. With a Clegane, at least.
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He still has pointy things on him, but they aren't particularly visible.
This one's met Robb, but hasn't spent much time with him.
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Mayhaps this one knows what in the seven buggering hells is going on. He seems to be, ah, at peace with things, as it were. Faintly, Jaime hopes this one isn't a sparrow, or worse, a figment of his imagination. Or maybe he's got those two backwards.
Whatever.
"Excuse me, mayhaps you would be able to point me in the direction of..." Riverrun? Kingslanding? Riverrun? Kingslanding... "Casterly Rock?"
I KEEP FORGETTING TO RESPOND TO THE OOC NOTES AUGH SORRY. also hahaha aw, have at /o/
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"I couldn't give you any helpful directions if I wanted to," Niko replies, almost absently. "But you're welcome to try. This place is like a fishbowl. You always end up back here."
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Best not to think on that overlong.
"And you would, of course, not know how one could escape this bowl of fish, hm?" Judging by his luck so far, today.
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After all, her daughter does like Tyrion quite a bit.
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Jaime thought he was done with those, he certainly feels done with those, oh god why why why. But at least this means he's still at Riverrun. Oh, good, he isn't completely mad, he was just... drugged, obviously drugged.
It is a sad day when one's mood is improved at the prospect of having been drugged.
"Wench," Jaime hopes she doesn't see him flinch at the word. "What..." where when who how why "Where might Riverrun have run off to, along with the rest of my men?"
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She turns around, and looks at the man who called her that, very dignified, but simmering inside, which probably shows in her eyes.
"I hope you did not call me what I think you called me, sir. It would be a most terrible way to make an impression."
A reformed prostitute she may be, Sugar has no less the ambitious of her autodidact tendencies.
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Despite himself, Jaime reacts in the customary fashion one would when faced with such overwhelming nostalgia.
"I would think so, yes." He wonders if he should bow or put out his hand or something and what why is he thinking that it's ridiculous stop. "I assume you know who I am, w-... My Lady?"
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