[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@VitaVitaAR][@Raineh Daze][@The Otter][@Octo]

[color=goldenrod]"Real piece of work we've picked up here, huh?"[/color] a familiar voice noted from somewhere behind the ornery blonde, conscious in its flatness of tone, clipped in delivery. Fionn was already building up a head of steam similar to the one he'd gotten for Clarice not far away, openly asking Cyrus for "insight" dealing with Gertrude's disrespect— Gerard knew his friend well enough to see through the veil. It was closer to asking for permission than anything else.

He wasn't too happy with her attitude this whole time either, far from it, but seeing her throwing Fionn and the Captain off their games a step removed gave him ample room to cool things before they boiled over on the interior, summoning the image of annoying bastards past. He wasn't going to turn furor over onto a spoiled brat, not yet, but he needed to kill the situation quick. She had a point, in spite of her bile— maybe she [i]was[/i] part of the test. Working as a cohesive unit meant keeping lines of command clear and unmuddied, unquestioned. If they got stuck on this issue, they'd be bogged down and waste time. On the field, that was trampling. Death. They needed to reestablish direction. Get wheels spinning again.

[color=goldenrod]"I take it if we've got a stocked library here for Sir Rolan to dig through, we've got fully stocked kitchens as well, Sir Cyrus?"[/color] he called to the larger knight, as conversationally as he could beneath his reverence for a central figure of his childhood legends.

A steady, insistent tug at the scruff of her collar pulled the taller blonde up and away from the impromptu staredown like she was an ornery cat. Not enough to start [i]garroting[/i] her with her frilly getup, that'd take a different, sharper kind of pressure, but enough to more or less force the issue.

[color=goldenrod]"Because Gertrude's bringing up a fair concern here, Captain, even if she's a gadfly about it—"[/color] he spoke again, golden eyes catching the smaller knight's as he held his face in neutral cast. She was likely getting a decent read upon him by now, after they'd shared the battlefield and their talks— enough to tell that he was keeping a fair amount under a tight lid in his own right. He glanced over to the "maid" before continuing, throwing a thumb over his opposite shoulder. [color=goldenrod]"If she's getting hungry, it stands to reason the rest of us would as well. Armies march on their stomachs— and we still don't know what exactly we'll be getting into as we head through the city. We might be here [i]a while[/i]."[/color]

He hadn't really paid it much mind when she sharply shrugged off his assistance at the start. Better he just bear with a little more vitriol by taking her ire off the people that needed their heads focused correctly.

The part of him that still tried to be generous found itself noting that this was probably damn stressful, to be totally fair...

[color=goldenrod]"Unless we hear otherwise about how this all works, I think going source some rations makes sense, Ma'am. We may need the strength. Can get these two some grub while I'm at it. Your call."[/color]