[b][u]Gwayne Tyrell - Lord of Highgarden[/u][/b]

If Gwayne took any offence, he didn’t show it in the slightest; instead, he let a small chuckle escape him as he pretended to be amused by Jakob’s little joke. The Frey seemed awfully pleased with himself, but if he thought something so trivial would ward him off, he had another thing coming. Returning his smile, Gwayne formulated a reply - one that he hoped would make Jakob think twice about running his mouth off.

“I assure you, my lord, the King makes all of his decisions independently. He simply knows who his friends are.” Gwayne’s golden-eyed stare never left Jakob for a moment - a simple technique he’d picked up over the years. A flickering gaze meant weakness or submission, and something like that wouldn’t be comely of the High Marshal of the Reach. “And yet, the same can’t be said for everyone. I’ve heard some… dreadful things about the affair in the Riverlands. It [i]was[/i] your kin that the guards found in the Trident, wasn’t it? …I can hardly believe it myself.”

His brow furrowed just so, lips pressed into a thin line, Gwayne appeared the very picture of tepid concern. In another life, he might’ve made a gifted mummer, but he was momentarily distracted from this little charade of sympathy when the Lannister girl introduced herself. “Ah, yes. Vernan’s girl. Your father has spoken of you many a time, my lady - only good things, of course.”