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Clarissa didn’t stay long, but it was just as well; she was overcome with righteous indignation as she got back up, which suited her much better than gloom in Jorah’s opinion. Class ended soon after, but Jorah was in no rush to follow – by the snippets of shouts he heard from the courtyard, he figured it was best to keep his distance for the time being. He didn’t hide his smirk, snickering a bit at the tongue-lashing he imagined Professor Lysander was getting. It served him right, for sure, but what made it even more entertaining was that Jorah himself wasn’t on the receiving end this time. 

He dearly wanted to sneak a glimpse of Lysander’s face before Clarissa was done with him, but in an uncharacteristic show of restraint, Jorah refrained. This was a touchy subject for her, and although he knew more than anyone else, she still deserved her privacy. 

Which of course begged the question: why was Prince Eagle over there snooping in the doorway? 

Jorah quirked a brow in the Imperial prince’s direction, openly examining his cartoonish posture, peering out the door and breathing shallowly like a child who thought his hiding place was foolproof. Leaning on a pillar, Jorah watched, shocked as Kayden drank up Clarissa’s whole exchange without even a hint of shame, before telling his classmates he was going to “gather information.” What the hell was he up to? Jorah had given the Eagles the benefit of the doubt, assuming they’d manage to be normal for the duration of the year, but it seemed he was wrong. Apparently, the Empire never stopped scheming. 

Following Kayden out, he caught his odd appeal to Clarissa, the Prince apparently blind to the fact that she was upset. Jorah knew other people didn’t have the sense for emotions he did, but couldn’t he tell when it was best to leave someone alone? Or had the Crown Prince of Adrestia just never had an interaction blow up in his face? “Excuse the intrusion” his ass; more like excuse the [i]blatant eavesdropping[/i]. Besides, his proposition was just… weird. He sounded like Raimund when he first learned to speak Fódlan, all excessive formality and strange syntax. Maybe Jorah was biased, but everything about this rubbed him the wrong way. 

[color=FFAB66]“Well well, isn’t that polite of you!”[/color] Jorah remarked loudly, sauntering over and inserting himself into the conversation. He stepped slightly between Kayden and Clarissa. [color=FFAB66]“And here I thought Imperial royalty never [i]asked[/i] for anything. How wrong I was; your lovely fiancée must have given me the wrong impression.”[/color] He smiled jovially at Kayden, his distaste evident. 

[color=FFAB66]“I know what you mean, though; I’ve sorely missed riding myself lately. But I gotta say, the saddles here are [i]not[/i] the best.”[/color] He punctuated the statement with an exaggerated stretch. [color=FFAB66]“The horses are great though, Goddess bless them. Shame I can't say the same for the equipment; probably not up to royal standards.”[/color] 

He shot a glance to Clarissa, one that she’d seen a hundred times back home in Derdriu that roughly translated to “please end this conversation.” 

[color=FFAB66]“Anyway, what’s this I hear about a ride?”[/color]

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