[ Sigewinne still speaks to Wriothesley like a superior, but there's leeway there too. A softness, but Lyney doesn't necessarily go the pessimistic route to a weakness. He has bad blood with the nurse, surely – he never forgets when someone 'outdoes' him, but... she is crucial here. A wheel that needs to keep spinning to keep this place functioning. Safe. Maybe one day he'll bug her for some information on the Duke, just to keep their little back and forth going. Always full of surprises. ]

Fine, fiiine. I know when my company isn't wanted. Suffering from success, what a pity. [ Lyney's fingers on his chin hide how tight he grits his teeth. The suggestion of carrying him to bed encourages a thought – the same one he had not long ago in that bed. Scarred hands against his frame, the difference in their size intimidating and alluring all the same... Lyney is a fan of petite girls like Lynette, but men? He's not sure.

Lyney shakes his head, standing up to where their knees barely brush together – just a second. A breathless huff, swallowed down with a laugh. ]

You really should learn how to treat a winner, though. Good to know how things run down here. Being carried would be fitting, but... I'll help you save face, Your Grace.

[ He turns, the heat in his face obvious and the pulse in his neck quickening. Why is he flushed? He kneels down a ways away, grabbing his boots and beginning to slip them on again. Frustrations bubble between them, but – that's all they are. ]

Let me know when you want a rematch. I aim to please.