Leonardo

"'Course you do," the barmaid murmurs back, smiling. "I've always said you were smarter than y'look, boy-o."

She does say that a lot, when it suits. It's just that she also accuses him of having a head full of empty space when it better serves her purpose.

"And I suppose I've a powerful love for you too," she sighs, making it sound like she's just announced she has to leave the comfort of their bed to use the necessary.

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mnt_raph

"Don't strain yourself on my account."
It's not much of a deadpan, because it's really difficult to fully deadpan when one is this contented.

It's a halfdeadpan.
Or, perhaps, a slightly bruised pan that should take two and call a doctor in the morning.

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"Oh, much too late for that," Abigail sighs, barely holding in a laugh.

And then, because sometimes he blushes all over his head and looks downright adorable, thank you very much, she turns her head to raise her eyebrows at him.

Get it, Raph?

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mnt_raph

...

He doesn't.
For a good ten count, he doesn't. Raph never was one for the quick uptake. Of he's a mind like a steel-trap once he catches up.

...

Eventually.

That blush she was searching for surfaces, and pretty spectacularly at that.

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When it does, Abigail makes an undeniably satisfied sound.

Followed, predictably, by a warm, unrestrained laugh.

"Oh, I do. At that."

Love him.

She kisses the tip of his nose and his chin, before settling a firm one on his mouth.

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mnt_raph

Her laugh, her joy....her love, more than makes up for the momentary bruise to his ego.

Still, since he's got a reputation to maintain...

He reaches behind his head, takes his pillow, and thwap.

And they say romance is dead.

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A reputation for what, exactly?

Over the years, Abigail has kicked many men out of her tavern, and a few of those out of her bed.

For his efforts, Raph simply becomes the latest victim of her not-so-surprisingly strong legs.

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mnt_raph

Down he goes, like the proverbial sack of potatoes. Of course unlike the potatoes Raph goes down cackling.

And if he attempts to grab at Abigail's ankle on his descent for company during his trip...well, these things happen.

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The shriek she lets out is in no way ladylike and in all ways mad.

(Except not really.)

Abigail flounders for a moment, then digs her fingers into the bed clothes and starts clawing her way back to the center of the bed.

~thump~

It would have worked, too, if the sheet hadn't started to come loose and Abigail hadn't decided that meant she should simply... let go.

So, one barmaid and one Shang, tangled in cloth and each other, on the hard but clean floor.

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mnt_raph

Raph tries to fight against the tangle of the cloth, but it's to no avail. Resigned to his fate, he turns to look at Abigail.

"I think we're stuck like this. Forever," he says with a lopsided grin.

It's only after a second or two that he realizes his ribs hurt. Though, he's not sure if that hurt is from the landing, or the laughing that preceded it.

Still, tangled up in bedsheets with a hot blonde? Hell of a way to go.

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That might be the elbow she digs into his ribs -- probably not on purpose -- as she readjusts herself atop him so she can look down and run her foot along his leg.

"Forever?" She plays at being horrified and pretends to try ripping the sheet. "Mithros."

Beat.

"Next time, assumin' there is one since we're stuck well and good, I won't make a fuss when you wear your weapons to bed." She grins. "But mayhap Thomas heard me yell."

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mnt_raph

"Not if he knows what's good for him, he didn't."

The last thing this moment needs, is the intrusion of a pesky brother.

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"Pardon me," someone in a long, dark robe asks a young man behind the inn bar. "I am searching for my brother. He is about so tall, bald, might be in tights." Thinking, Leo also offers, "His weapon of choice is a chair or a three prong dagger?"

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The blonde man is busily wiping down the bartop after what appears to have been a successful lunchtime rush, and as such misses a great deal of the stranger's gestures.

Also the fact that the stranger appears to be Yamani, which explains his slight start when he does manage to look up.

A Yamani Islander? Here? Clearly looking for Raph? What has that man gotten himself into...

"Doesn't ring a bell, though I may have heard tale of such a man. Does he also have a name?"

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"Raph. Short for Raphael."

He tries to think other ways to describe Raph that don't involve violence, a preference for blondes, or alcohol. Because he doesn't think those would really stand out in place like this.

"Or 'hey you'."

"He has a, ah." He isn't sure what to call Abigail, actually. She is certainly more than just a girlfriend, but she isn't technically a wife. ...At least, he doesn't think so. Crap. What else doesn't he know about his own family?!

"I had been told that in case of a family emergency, I should try here and ask for Abigail."

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A few things happen at once when this stranger mentions Abigail.

For starters Leo now has Thomas' undivided attention.

Then, of course, there's the fact that the once genial-looking barkeep has folded his arms across his chest and has called in his most withering gaze.

"You have, have you. And who, exactly, might you be friend."

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Ever placid, "I am Leonardo, his brother."

...he looks like an assassin right now, doesn't he? Great.

After a moment, he offers, "Our family tree is complex."

This isn't helping the whole "assassin" thing.

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Well Leo, you did just show up out of nowhere dressed as an assassin and looking very much unlike the family you're claiming to be a member of.

But then again, Raph doesn't look anything like the Lioness or her husband, and the going story is that they're related as well.

"So I've heard."
And he has, because when Raph drinks...he gets chatty.

"You the one with the swords?"

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Leo smiles in relief. He tugs at wrap around his throat and shows the two sword hilts that peak over his shoulder.

"Yes, the one with the swords. I'm sure all the stories you've heard are very flattering and entirely true." What? Leo being sarcastic? The world is ending.

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By looks alone Thomas can tell that the swords he's seeing now are of the same kind as the one that Abigail keeps on hand when things get "interesting". Further proof to legitimizing Leo's story.

Of course, what really seals the deal is the sarcasm. That's certainly the tone of a beleagured older brother. Thomas knows it well, being the youngest in his own family.

And just like that, the man's demeanor changes. The scowl is replaced by a warm smile, and a hand is offered in greeting.

"Had me there for a second, thought you might have been the wrong sort. 'Course, the wrong sort don't often make a habit of walking through the front door. I'm Thomas. Abigail's my sister."

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Leo gives a firm shake and a grin. "I thought scaling the house wouldn't help prove I'm not an assassin. It's nice to meet you, Thomas."

"Mind if I borrow my brother? Our youngest brother is about to become a father." Inner mantra: Do not explain, do not explain, do not explain.

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"Aye, it certainly wouldn've added to your credibility, no," he says with a smirk.

"It's not my leave you should be asking. Far as I care Raph comes and goes as he pleases. What Abigail feels on the matter is a different story."

"You're more than welcome to climb the rafters if you like though. Just be warned, she has a blade much like yours..."

Here he pauses to give the room a once over before leaning in close to share a confidence.

"And a temper just as sharp."

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