milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Harry has received Hal's letter.

And he seems keen that the entire bar should know about it.

Well, in truth, he doesn't seem to be paying attention to anyone else at all as he paces incredulously in front of the bar and reads. Loudly.

"'--thank thee for thy former care of my horse, and beg thee look to him once more--' Ha! And shall I be thy ostler! O, he thinks himself a mighty king indeed, to have a knight for his stableboy! To write what he would blush to ask-- o, let me see some more. 'I doubt not I and England shall fight well-armèd with thy fair wishes--'"

He crumples up the note and flings it-- away, somewhere, aimlessly. Sorry, passersby.

[ooc: harry has a history of difficulty with reading quietly.]

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'Wow. Way to keep to the whole bar informed of your business.'

Jim's at the bar to get another pint, coincidentally placed to be bothered by Harry's pacing. He turns to lean his back on it, smiling innocently and mentally making a note to never write Hotspur a letter that will publicly anger him.

'I thought you two were friends.'

Harry glares at Jim. "I am sure it is no concern of thine."

Of course it isn't. Yet here they are.

'You're making it everyone's business,' he points out, in an entirely non-confrontational tone.

(The smile might be a tiny bit confrontational.)

'Did he leave without saying goodbye?'

Awwww.

"To thy mind, all things are every man's business," Harry snaps. "I could whisper my prayers in a closet and thou wouldst proclaim it subject for common gossip."

Jim's eyebrows slink upwards.

'Pretty sure you can't base that in fact.'

Beat.

'Though I've no doubt you spend a lot of time in the closet.'

Edited 2016-03-09 17:31 (UTC)

"And what has that to do with--" Augh. "I can indeed, 'tis a fact as plain as anything, and well borne out by our late conference!"

And now, a slightly confused frown.

'But that was a misunderstanding. I apologised, and you said you were OK with it. You said there was nothing to forgive.'

You really did, Harry.

"And-- so I did." Damn it. "--but it changes not the heart of the matter! What thou tak'st to be public matter and what I count to be so do not accord, 'tis plain."

'And that means we can't ever speak with one another? Are we-'

He pulls a face that any fan of B-movies would recognise as mock-villainous.

'-mortal enemies??'

Please say yes, Harry. He needs an excuse to misbehave (lol, no he doesn't), and everyone's being so boringly sensible.

Sorry, Jim, Harry just looks confused. Which is to say, irritated.

"I know not what you mean by that. I like you not, but I cannot call you enemy."

God, he is wasted on this place. On every place. Everyone.

He resorts to looking vaguely hurt instead.

'You really don't like me just because I asked about a subject you don't like talking about? I said I was sorry.'

Beat.

'Or is there something else?'

So wounded, Harry. So wounded.

"And what further cause must I have?" he demands. "Do you often hear a man proclaim, I care not for his conversation, he presumes much and imposes more-- and yet, by God, I like the man!"

'I hear people proclaim we got off on the wrong foot, lets forget it and have another go. Just like most people.'

If they're not insane, Harry, with serious problems. As you clearly are, and have.

At least, that's what his tone suggests.

"Very well! Then we shall do so, if it please you." It... sounds just a touch angrier than such a supposedly conciliatory statement probably ought to sound.

Doesn't it just.

'Great! Can I buy you a drink?'

Yeah, Jim's just gonna grin like a jerk at you, Harry. He's never met a man so ruled by honour and gruff manners on one hand, and bluntness on the other. It's like chatting to a particularly truculent five year old.

'I apologised to the king too. Just so you know.'

"Well! Now he is free of thee, it matters not." See, he's great at being nice!

'Free of you too, by the look of it. And this place. Off to a nice war, isn't he?'

Bet that sticks in your craw, Hotspur of the North.

'Was that a yes on the drink?'

Strangely, this second try isn't changing Harry's opinion of Jim much.

"As it please thee, I care not! And as he is free of me, so I am free of him, and need not ever be questioned by thee of his doings!"

Funny, that.

'A pint for my friend, here,' he says lazily, to the bar.

When he turns his gaze back to Harry, there's a hardness in his eyes that's never been there before in conversation with him.

'You should really relax more.'

No, really. It's good advice, Harry. For your own good.

Harry sets his jaw and glares.

"And wherefore should I be counseled by thee?"

'I don't think you can be counselled by anyone.'

Beat.

'Except Feuilly.'

He pushes the pint over to him with one finger.

'But you should try. Learn to listen, something like that.'

He doesn't reach for the glass.

"And when I am counseled profitably, so I shall. What hast thou to do with Feuilly? I mark him because he is wise, and thou art but a fool."

'You mark him because he's your boyfriend.'

And Jim is so not a fool. He almost laughs, but hides it by sipping from his own glass instead.

'The fact that you can't even tell I'm giving you good advice is proof not just that you can't recognise, uh, profitable counsel, but also that you're an idiot.'

Just sayin'.

Harry flushes red.

"And call you this the way to have another go?"

Because he definitely didn't start the name-calling or anything.

'Yeah.'

No.

'Hey, I'm just telling the truth. That's what friends do.'

You started this a couple of conversations ago, Harry. This whole thing is on you.

'Or do they not teach that in sword-swinging school? Just teach you to swing that other sword, eh?'

Jim does not trust him to get the allusion, so glances down below Hotspur's belt to give him a clue.