[Oh, she's full of it. Always fire and bright eyes, no matter the situation-- same as her brother, remarkably-- enough that Gray begins to wonder if that's thanks to kinship between siblings, or if Augustus himself hides something else, something keener behind those cloudy, poorly focused eyes. Long as he's known Alastair, and as deeply as he knows Isabeau, he still isn't sure.
And it leaves him chuckling under his breath, thumbing the back of her knuckles the way someone might brush at a beloved pet when it's too riled to settle. She digs because the opportunity is there; Grayson opts not to boast (tired as he's felt the last few centuries, and perhaps a touch too worn, those ancient habits from his youth died off without protest) but there's reason to his reputation born from action instead of words, and it means Sir Galahad is a man without an ego to bruise.
He caters to her all the same.] Have you been told about the Battle on the Ice?
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And it leaves him chuckling under his breath, thumbing the back of her knuckles the way someone might brush at a beloved pet when it's too riled to settle. She digs because the opportunity is there; Grayson opts not to boast (tired as he's felt the last few centuries, and perhaps a touch too worn, those ancient habits from his youth died off without protest) but there's reason to his reputation born from action instead of words, and it means Sir Galahad is a man without an ego to bruise.
He caters to her all the same.] Have you been told about the Battle on the Ice?