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*Bran opens the front door in a burst of harpsong. In his black sweater and sunglasses, he looks, for once, relaxed and confident. His confidence is not the prince's arrogance, but a human boy's acceptance of who he is.*

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Mordred looks up from his table near the door, and raises his own sunglasses to see better. Grinning, he waves Bran over.

"Hail, brother."

*walks over and sits at Mordred's table, grinning back* Noswaith dda.

Taking the glasses off and folding them into his jacket pocket, Mordred eyes him; noting the easy stance.

"Have a good Christmas?"

Lovely. We all celebrated at Will's Aunt Jen's house. Everyone was on their best behavior. Da, Owen Davies I mean... even he was happy. He doesn't show it much.

Mordred tilts his head at that, interested despite himself.

"Isn't your da happy much?" He asks quietly. 'Da' is different from 'father', somehow.

Maybe, but he doesn't show it. It's part of his penance, I think.

He raises an eyebrow, not sure if he is prying or not.

*softly* He still feels guilty, you see. Over having loved her. My mother.

*The sunglasses hide his expression. Bran's mother is still a sensitive point.*

Prying. Certainly prying. Not to mention bad subject. Mordred's smart, he's learning.

"Oh." And then, not really knowing why, he says, "Sorry."

*Bran nods, awkwardly, and changes the subject.* Would you like anything? A drink, maybe?

"Some red wine would be very nice." Then Mordred grins and leans forward, the light in his golden eyes ever-so-slightly evil.

"I hear that Meg gave Will a pair of sunglasses."

*Bran gestures to one of the serving rats.* Red wine, please, and lemonade. *The serving rat looks at Bran doubtfully.* The wine's for Mordred. *Reassured, the rat scurries off.*

*Bran's answering grin is just as wicked.* Oh, yes. She said, *Bran pauses, and affects a posture vaguely reminiscent of Meg's dancer's stance*, 'If you're going to hang about with the Arthurian boys you might as well match.' *The idiomatic phrasing sounds odd in his Welsh lilt.*

The prince laughs softly. "She gave a pair to my Ala as well. I found that both he and Will were determined not to match with us."

*The rat returns, with a tray and two glasses. Bran flicks the rat some pound coins and passes Mordred the wine glass.* Sad, really, Will and ...Ala... not wanting to protect their eyesight and all. We have to help them. *The expression on Bran's face is a decided smirk.*

He picks up the wine, and smiles at the rat. Turning back to Bran, he smirks back. To anyone looking, they would have looked frighteningly similar.

"I was hoping you would say that, boyo," Mordred says, his soft voice mild.

*Bran sips his lemonade.* Then we shall plot. To save our friends' eyesight, of course.

"But of course." He pauses. "Although, I'm not sure if sunglasses would match Will's sweaters, but one thing at a time, I guess."

Nothing matches Will's sweaters. Except the new sweaters, that is, if he wears them.

"We really do have to introduce the boy to a fashion sense, at some point," Mordred says with a wince.

Fashion sense, then? I'm not sure that's necessary. All Will needs is clothing that won't scare away the sheep, really.

"Does yours?" He asks with a grin, trying to picture Will in solid black with sunglasses.

Not bad. He'd look like an assassin, but nothing's perfect.

No, the sheep like me. They like Lluchddu, really, more to the point.

*Bran removes his sunglasses, and looks at Mordred. His black sweater stands out against his albino skin and tawny-eyes.* I dress to scare away my classmates, instead.

Mordred raises an eyebrow. As striking as he himself looked in black, wih his white skin and golden eyes...he had to admit that the white hair instead of black was...well, somewhat disconcerting.

"And does it work, boyo?"

Usually. *He grins, but then looks bemused.* Lately, Jones, Edwards and Prytherch have stopped ignoring me. They always giggle when I pass, too. Girls. Who understands them?

"No one in any world that I am aware of." He pauses. "Maybe they like you." Mordred is amused by this. Oh, so very amused.

*Bran gives a baffled shrug.*

"Ah well, I'm sure you'll work out what they are giggling about sooner or later. Run when they do." He drinks the last of his wine, and sighs.

"Sadly, I have to go now. I'll see you around, brother." And with that, he vanishes.

*Bran shrugs again, and enforces continuity by joining the singing Yrael.*

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