#-4, MCA, Saturday Afternoon

[halfman_lion]

Tyrion had skipped chaperoning the dance the night before. Not that he was usually the type to miss a feast, but he'd gotten absorbed in his book -- a history of a place called Russia -- and hadn't even noticed the hours ticking away until it was far too late to get himself to the community center

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[wasworthmore]

So this was the day when she'd finally meet her lordly father. Joanna Hill was half excited by the prospect, half in complete dread. Her mother had rarely spoken of her brief marriage or of the Lannisters, but everyone else had said enough that Joanna had the idea the worst stories about them were likely too kind.

She smoothed her plain woolen skirt, wished the portal had at least supplied something a bit more suiting, and tapped on the door.

[halfman_lion]

Tyrion jerked himself up to standing, stood on tiptoe to undo the lock and wrestle the knob open, and opened the door, grumbling the whole time. Visitors were rare; they were also often trouble.

When he saw the unfamiliar girl on the other side, he simply looked at her for a long moment.

"Yes, hello, can I help you?" he asked, when it seemed clear the girl wasn't going to launch the conversation of her own accord.

[wasworthmore]

Joanna felt as if a fist had grabbed her throat and stopped up all of the words. The man on the other side of the door was a dwarf, yes, but he wasn't nearly so ugly as the stories on the streets of Highgarden would have her believe.

She realized that was not a helpful observation to make on first meeting.

"My Lord Tyrion," she managed, in a crooked little voice that wasn't much like hers at all. "Father. The island ...." She waved a hand. "The rest of this may go better with me inside."

[halfman_lion]

"You mistake me," Tyrion said, but almost automatically. There was something about the girl's eyes that he recognized, even a dozen years and more later.

He stepped back. "Come in, if you must. But I don't breed bastards, and the Seven know I've tried enough."