Gaul strides into the room wearing fresh clothes for once: a white tunic, gray cloth slacks, and newly-shined black boots. He had considered wearing his crown, but thought it would be too gaudy for the occasion. He takes the seat between Flame and Smough, doing his best to fit in the chair with his massive frame. 

He had given his word as a king to help and protect Flame, and the thoughts of where to start had not left his mind since. Today’s meeting would either be a welcome distraction, or an absolute shitshow. Either way, he makes himself as comfortable as possible, and awaits the fireworks.