Cyril sat near the end of the table, on the far side of were the true party was at, neither he nor his wife were interested in an affair, let alone another marriage. They were their for appearances sake, trading whispered insults about the other guests who have arrived.
"What? No, couldn't be."
"Is truth, see for yourself."
"I think I will, be right back."
Cyril waltz up to one of the lesser nobles, so lesser that her name was of no importance. At the sight of Cyril she straightened her corset.
"Good.. good evening, I don't think we've had the pleasure" she says offering her hand shyly. Cyril takes the hand and bows deeply kissing it softly.
"No, no we have not." Cyril says as he raises.
"My name is..." she is cut off by Cyril's quick departure, "I.. I beg your pardon."
"You may have it" He says walking back to his seat. Seated once more, his wife turns to him,
"Well?"
"You were right, the left one was far bigger."
A moment passes.
"Do you think we are terrible people?" She asks.
"How could you ask such a thing? Of course we are."
"I couldn't agree more" said a voice from behind.
Cyril turned and furrowed his brow, it was his brother-in-law *Remi Feemure.
"Remi? I should of known you'd show up?"
"Problem Cyril? Afraid I may take home a prize you had marked?"
"I'm not here for a wife, Remi. I'm just here to take up space, eat his food and drink his wine.
"Why do you not have wine of your own?"
"I do, but it's not this nice. So do you actually have a reason to bother me, because your failed insults are annoying me more then they would if they succeeded."
"Come now is that anyway to speak to the future marquis of Frostwarden?"
"Yes, because the future ruler of Frostwarden is a spoiled twat."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm sorry I already gave that to someone. Try again later, and I may also give a damn."
*What would the title be for someone who is the son of a marquis but not a marquis yet?
((there brother introduced. are you happy shootandrun?))