(no subject)

[noble_at_heart]

Gwaine has settled himself on a bench to watch the swirling crowds, his amazement and joy evident by the steadily growing grin. He might have got lost in the castle's maze of corridors more than once when he first arrived but he's absolutely certain that this is not Camelot. Uther's health may be failing and Arthur not quite the uptight, pompous, hide bound little braggart of a Princeling he first thought him (he'll grudgingly admit that now) but even he would struggle to accept the multitude of strange beings and obviously magical artifacts crowding as far as the eye can see.

He tilts his face back towards the sun with contented sigh before picking up the bright paper he discarded beside him earlier and reluctantly continuing to read. It's not that he can't exactly, goading by family members determined that their poor relations bring as little shame as possible and later Merlin's patient if faintly teasing guidance mean that he's adequately literate, thankyouverymuch, it's just that there were a lot of very long and confusing words.

Eventually he reaches the end where the warning at the bottom of the page causes him some rather profound worry.

"What's a man to do to get a drink around here, then?"

Comments

[noble_at_heart]

Gwaine carefully copies Clint's actions with the can before sniffing and tasting it tentatively, still a little worried he's about to turn a strange colour or change into an animal. But it's good. He takes another sip.

[aw_hawkguy]

"See?" Clint confirms, taking a swig of his own. "Beer. So where're you from?"