Difference between revisions of "276/Saber 1/2"

Latest revision as of 16:48, 25 July 2014

Saber (346) has posed:
     There were, within the great expanse of the multiverse, eating establishments as countless as the stars, of qualities ranging from the truly abysmal (though perhaps that was simply a matter of personal taste) to the apotheosis of cuisine. Sampling the better half of these would have been a task too herculean for a mere mortal of limited lifespan, though not for want of effort. There was, however, a creature up to the task. The Servant Saber, whose continued search for pleasing food was never-ending. But it was the journey, not the destination, which drove her forward.

     Though her appetite -- when not being directly supplied magical energy through her Master -- was truly fearsome, the King of Knights would not simply settle for a buffet of mediocre food. The tiny knight had had quite enough of /that/ in her own time. No, she sought out establishments of solid review, simply partaking of one part of her meal in one place before moving onto the next, contentiously refusing to drain one single location of all its resources. Like a pub crawl, but for food.

     Strangely, she had yet to visit the now-famous Bar and Grill at the Edge of the Multiverse, with its comfortable ambiance wide variety of different cuisines from throughout space and time. Some of which was most likely not edible for humanoid life forms or those that mimic them...however, there remained more than enough for the seeking Servant to partake of. And blessedly, very little of it bland.

     It was at this establishment that the Saber of the Fourth Holy Grail War found herself, clad in the customary sharp three-piece black suit she wore for business occasions, her hair tied back in the usual simple ponytail. To onlookers, it was unclear whether the petite figure currently perusing one of the menus on the wall was an elegant young man or woman. Tapping her chin thoughtfully with her index finger, the Servant seemed deeply immersed in thought, studying the menu before her as if it was a matter of serious importance. And for someone who took cuisine as seriously as she now did, it was, indeed.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Sitting next to the elegant young man or woman perusing the menu is a much taller young man or woman. Although of similar features, something about the taller one's face is more angular; with high cheekbones and eyes of a particular blue-grey that very nearly trends toward violet. Their hair is fine, and a much paler shade than the suit-wearing King of Knights; almost silver, drawn back into a simple unbraided queue fastened with a brass clasp. In the figure's left ear is a single bloodstone stud on a brass hook.

Yep. Gender confusion was kind of a Thing in Camelot. There were some of the courts that weren't even sure whether Sir Bedivere was a man or a woman masquerading as a man. And his position as Marshal of the Realm made actually asking a bit too dicey even for the most brazen among them.

Bedivere of Britannia, however, is not perusing the menu. He's sitting next to the suit-wearing King of Knights. He's wearing a similar-looking three-piece suit, though his is a more somber charcoal, not quite black, complete with a soft blue tie she no doubt had to instruct him in how to properly arrange -- a holdover from his mantled cloak, perhaps; the blue is almost the same colour. His scabbarded sword is leaned against the chair next to him, though it should see no use here.

No, he's sitting there with his head over his folded arms, probably trying very hard not to think about the burning sensation in his side. Or what the smell of a particularly strange-looking dish three tables over might happen to actually be.

Next to him, perhaps unusually, is a cup of what looks like it might be tea. There's certainly steam curling from the surface.

Saber of Silver (227) has posed:
This is not the verst time that the silver-haired Saber has come to visit this particular establishment, but she enjoyed the food last time she was here. She may not have the same appetite as certain other Sabers all the time... though that's partly because she hasn't had to fight recently.

Cool green eyes scan the seating area as she walks up to the hostess, but she pauses as she spots a familiar face. "Ah.. I know them. Thank you." With a polite nod to the hostess, she walks over to the knightly table.

"Hello again, Saber." Unlike her battle outfit, she's wearing a more traditional kimono. A quick bow is given to both the king and the marshall. "I happened to see you from afar as I walked in. Would you and your friend mind if I joined you?" Bedivere is given a curious glance, though. Is this perhaps a rival?!

Saber (346) has posed:
     Finishing her menu perusal, the blonde Saber took a sip of her tea and regarded the knight sitting across from her with a critical eye. While they were out in public, she carefully refrained from compromising his dignity -- or rather, what was left of it -- by fussing over him, but she still worried as peer her nature. Naturally, as her marshal and second-in-command, he had insisted on accompanying her; though to be fair, they /did/ need to eat, and with Sakura and Rin away...well, their choices were rather limited. Saber's skills had become reasonably well over the years, but there was only so much she could prepare, especially with what they had on-hand. And deliveries were out; there wasn't a delivery person courageous enough to brave the Haunted Mansion.

     But she was mildly surprised at the arrival of the fellow Saber, one whom she had met only in passing along with her Master. Inclining her head politely in a sort of bow/nod, she returned the greeting. "Yes, hello, Saber." It might seem strange to anyone else how the two seemed to share a 'name', but that was the way of Heaven's Feel.

     Arturia regarded her curiously for a moment; the other Saber's civilian attire seemed rather formal, though it was nevertheless far less inconspicuous than the historical battle armour of their class. And perhaps she, too, could be said to be in something that made her stand out, as well...though there had been good reason for it.

     it was a curious request, though Saber /was/ rather curious about this new Grail War. And their little band of magi (plus one Servant and one vanilla human) could use that information. Remaining cautiously reserved, Saber nevertheless consented. "No, I would not mind..."

     As close as knight and king were, he might be able to sense with the slight glance in his direction that this was not necessarily a simple social call.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
In spite of his miserable-looking posture, Bedivere is relieved to be out and about. The mansion may be spacious, and lavishly decorated, but any cage is still a cage, no matter how splendid the gilding of its bars.

His posture suggests he's either in pain ro tired, or perhaps a bit of both, for ordinarily the marshal takes pains to sit up straight and lend as stern and businesslike an impression as his liege. The truth isn't too far off -- he's had a bit of painkillers, and every time he's partaken of them, they've knock him for a terrific loop. He's probably lucky to even be conscious.

Those violet eyes, however, are still sharp. It is exceedingly rare for Bedivere to miss things, even in his only semi-lucid state.

So, when he's give that look, he's perfectly aware of it. He simply closes his eyes, very slowly, as though in acknowledgement. Yes, he's in pain and half-drugged. No, he's not going to complain, nor ask to return home. Is it not necessary to engage in a certain amount of... 'walking it off?' Toughing it out and toughening oneself back up again?

Bedivere is immediately aware, too, of a visitor to the table. Although his posture never changes, perhaps Arturia might note that there's a subtle change to him, some slight shift in his aura. He's paying attention.

Slowly, he picks his head up and regards their guest, inclining it graciously.

"My lady." The title is different, this time, spoken much more formally. His voice is gentle, so gentle that it could be mistaken for a woman's; though the words are spoken with clarity. Those violet eyes are watching the Saber of Silver. So, this one is too a Servant, of the Saber class, no less. Nor does he miss Arturia's significant glance. "Please, by all means, join us if you wish."

He's watching her, very carefully, though Bedivere is cunning enough to do this without seeming overly interested. You can bet your bottom dollar he's going to watch her like a /hawk/, though.

Saber of Silver (227) has posed:
There's a brief look of delight on the Saber of Silver's normally more composed face. "I thank you." Whichever side of the table that has more room is the one she'll take. But would that put her next to her fellow Saber or Bedivere?

"You must be a friend of Saber's," she says to the marshall. "I am... also Saber." She pauses and lifts a hand to touch a lock of her hair. "Saber of Silver, I suppose, may be an easy enough distinguisher." She notices that suspicious glance, but after a brief, perplexed look at Bedivere, she gives him a serene smile. "You have nothing to worry about. I know that we are from different versions of the Holy Grail War. I have no intention or need to fight against Saber."

She smoothes her hair a bit before setting her hands neatly into her lap. "To tell the truth, I am not sure where the other Servants in my War are. I may be the first one summoned." This could be either good or dangerous. ...or perhaps both.

Saber (346) has posed:
     More than likely, the Saber of Silver would have -- conveniently for her interests -- found more room on the side of her fellow Servant, as Arturia was much more compact of stature than the much taller knight. Similarly, if she were to take up a spot next to her lieutenant, that might earn her a bit of a subtle glare. The Servant of the Fourth War was just a little overprotective.

     Declared intentions or not, Arturia tended to remain generally wary of other Servants -- the Saber of the Seventh War, Lancelot, and the Assassin, Jack, notwithstanding -- if for no other reason than some Master might get funny ideas into his or her head. The Saber of Silver's Master seemed pleasant enough, but Heaven's Feel tended to do strange things to people. "I am most grateful. I have no intentions of seeking any version of the Holy Grail. The Union would appear to frown upon such things as usurpation of another reality." True enough.

     And then it suddenly clicked. "Ah...I remember now. You and your Master had mentioned the other Servants of your War either mysteriously disappearing or were never summoned at all upon your city's Unification," Arturia mused, bringing her fist up to her chin as she thought on it. had she discussed this whole 'multiple realities' issue yet with her marshal? If she hadn't, it looked like he was going to be getting a crash course in it.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Never mind that the marshal himself may have glared, just a bit, if the Saber of Silver settled down beside him. He dislikes having his personal space invaded, particularly by strangers. And he does not even know this Saber's name.

He does watch the mysterious Servant like a hawk as she settles down beside Arturia, though. While there isn't any blatant animosity in his regard, there's no doubt that Arturia can sense that his hackles are up, however subtle he may be about it. He's on high alert. And no doubt she can tell that he doesn't like that the Saber of Silver sitting next to Arturia.

"I am honoured," Bedivere says instead in that calm, calm voice; polite as can be. Violet eyes flick to the Saber of Silver's own eyes. He seems to consider for a moment when she automatically assumes that he's a friend, and he flicks a brief, questioning look at Arturia. Can they trust her? Should he introduce himself? Decorum would ordinarily demand it, but he finds himself uncertain with an entity like the Saber of Silver...

Saber of Silver (227) has posed:
Just where she was hoping to sit! Though that dark suspicion from Bedivere is almost tangible, the Saber of Silver politely doesn't bring it up. "I would prefer to have you as an ally, in any case. I'm afraid that my skills may be a little... rusty." A slight frown pulls at the corners of her mouth. "My match in the recent tournament showed me that I am not quite as prepared for things as I had hoped I was. Perhaps..." She pauses and glances aside to Arturia. "Perhaps we might be able to spar sometime, so I can experience crossing blades with another Servant?" A quick glance is flicked toward Bedivere. "With practice swords, of course."

A slight dip of the head is given to the marshall. "I really do have no intention at all to harm this Saber. We are not part of the same War, and we are allies in the Union. Wouldn't raising my sword against an ally be counterproductive?" She's still trying to read Bedivere, to see if there's more than just her status as a Servant that he's worried about. Like someone else sitting next to Saber.

She nods toward the blonde Saber. "Yes... or perhaps just not yet. I have heard that past Holy Grail Wars had a lead-up time of several months while all participants summoned their Servants. I'm more concerned that they may show up without my knowledge." Though Kotomine will certainly tell them when it's time to begin, won't he?

Courier Six (32) has posed:
    The door to the Bar opens up, and in saunters a cowboy and another cowboy, one lady and one fellow. The redhead happily shuffles over to the bar. "Double Whiskeys, straight up, 4 please." Goodness.

    The fellow gazes across the room... and there's a whole buncha people in fancy outfits. "Dangit, now I'm feeling underdressed. Evenin' folks." The fellow tips the black cowboy hat, and sidles over to the table. "These seats taken, folks? I don't like drinkin' alone andI don't like leavin' Cass to drink alone."

Saber (346) has posed:
     While she was not on quite the level of high alert that Bedivere was, the blonde Saber nevertheless remained cautious. While she was probably not an enemy -- they were both members of the Union, that at least vaguely put them on the same side -- something about her made the Saber inexplicably wary. She caught the flicker of a questioning glance from her marshal, and turned her head just slightly: a slight shake of her head, and touched the matching red earring on her right ear slightly, seemingly casually. If anyone would pick up on that hint, he would. /If you are asked for a name, give your Dál Riata one./

     However, she was rather surprised at the simple request. "The tournament...I had not been aware you competed..." And had lost, apparently. In their own respective worlds such a thing would have only been possible by the hand of another Servant, and she would not be there to tell the tale.

     On the other hand, they could use another sparring partner. Never could have too many. Besides, matches against strong, honourable opponents was a personal weakness of hers she could rarely refuse. "I do not see why not," she replied with a slight smile.

     On the subject of her particular War and the strange circumstances, she could only tilt her head slightly in a hint of a refined shrug. "In the War I participated in, there was some time for preparations, yes," she admitted. "However, I have not heard of it taking as long as it has..."

     And suddenly there were cowboys. Not especially unusual -- the Bar and Grill saw countless types from equally countless worlds -- and Saber had been more focused on the conversation at hand. Only for the tiny blonde to be surprised at the sudden greeting and question. "Good evening," she inclined her head politely, but blinked at the question. "I do not believe they are..."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Such small details that can be spun into such eloquent conversation. Bedivere catches that look, and his eyes slid away from Arturia as though no exchange had taken place between them. He regards the Saber of Silver with cool curiosity.

It certainly seems as though the stranger's words are true, but there were some even in Camelot who could spin the most marvellous lies. He is not so trusting.

That she wants to spar with Arturia is, needless to say, enough that Arturia might observe a faint, faint twitch near the corner of his right eye. A spar? Absolutely not. Foolishness. Ill-thought out foolishness. How can they trust this stranger? Then, his violet eyes flick over to Arturia when she... agrees, and there is a slightly alarmed edge to his regard. /What are you doing?/

Oh, hey, suddenly cowboys.

The handsome young man in the charcoal suit looks over, very slowly, to the assemblage that approaches the table. His features look like he might be either a slightly masculine woman, or a feminine man. It's hard to say, though the lines of his throat are suggestive of the latter. His hair is a blonde so pale it seems almost silvery, and his eyes are a soft blue-grey that trend toward violet.

He stares very flatly at Courier Six, as though he were trying to shove the notion of that odd mode of dress into his brain, but he's still struggling to try and make some sense of the Saber of Silver's intricate kimono.

Good Lord preserve him, why is this multiverse place so /strange/?

It's a long moment or two before he speaks, politely clearing his throat. When he does, his tone is cool and calm, gentle enough in tone that it could well belong to a low-voiced woman.

"They are not taken." Bedivere eyes Courier Six for a moment, before eyeing the Saber of Silver for another moment more. "I suppose," he says, very slowly and just a hint reluctantly, with an apologetic smile that seems just a faint bit forced, "that a sparring match could do no harm. However, I would beg my lady's indulgence, and do so under the condition that I should like to observe." He wants to watch. Because frankly, he doesn't trust her.

Saber of Silver (227) has posed:
"I...did." There's an embarrassed look on her face as she glances away. "The competition was more than I expected." It's a bit mortifying to have to admit to losing the very first fight she's ever had in the Multiverse. The agreement to sparring, however, does seem to improve her mood a bit. "Ah... wonderful. During the day, though, if possible?" Now why would she care about day or night?

If the Saber of Silver notices that twitch, she very politely does not address it. There's something suspicious about the marshal, though. She'll figure it out in due time.

"Ah.. and, forgive me if it seems a bit forward, but I have heard there was a Saber in the Union who was a king. Would that happen to be you?" It's almost a shy look that she gives to her blonde fellow Servant. "A..and... forgive me for not being able to give my name. Secrecy of my identity is a layer of safety for myself and my Master, even among allies." She nods briefly at Bedivere. "But if I could have some way to address you, I would appreciate it."

The silver-haired Saber tilts her head curiously as a cowboy walks over... though she has no idea what a cowboy even is. "Ah... well..." A quick glance to the others sees them both agree, so she gives a brief nod. "Of course."

Another nod is given to Bedivere. "Of course. I would not mind if you were there." What's not to trust about her? It's not like she's part of a Holy Grail War and sworn enemy to other Servants, and it certainly isn't like she's kept her very identity a closely-guarded secret! Wait...

Courier Six (32) has posed:
    Johnny chuckles a bit, and pulls out the chair for his redheaded companion, who shuffles over with a pair of whiskeys for herself and her companion. The latino fellow grins at the rest. "Johnny Tallbranch, it's very nice to meet you folks. I believe I know... one of you. Miss Saber." A look between the ladies, as the redhead grins. "Howdy, I'm Cass. It's very nice to meet you folks. Johnny really doesn't get us out into the Multiverse enough. He's a big jerk who's worried someone's gonna poach us away or something."

    Johnny chuckles a bit. "And I'm guessing we've got a meeting of Servants then. From context..." He smiles at the handsome fellow. "You're the fella that's come home to support his king, I presume." He sips at his whiskey, settling in.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Arturia certainly caught that sudden edge from Bedivere, the shocked disbelief. Just because they don't trust her doesn't mean it's a bad idea to assess her strength and skill, and there were places to go to avoid casualties. Moreover, in the Holy Grail War, they would be fighting but with the only thing that could really kill Servants; their Noble Phantasms. She lifted her hand in a slight waving gesture. /It's fine, don't worry about it./

     True, he /was/ her marshal and had an obligation to act somewhat as the King's (only) Guard, but Heaven's Feel subverted certain roles. He wasn't particularly happy that his king had been reduced to a mere tool, but that was something she had been willing to deal with for the sake of her wish.

     Fortunately for the general health of the Marshal of Camelot, Saber inclined her head at the not-quite request that he be present for the match. "Of course," she replied evenly. it was still a good idea and she wasn't deliberately trying to give him a heart attack.

     "I see. There is no shame in a loss...many of the contestants are quite strong, even compared to Servants," she politely reassured the Saber of Silver. The preference for day, however, drew a slight raise of a pale brow, even as Arturia made no further inquiry. Strange, that.

     She was instantly on guard about the question of her being a king, however, and her eyes narrowed slightly. It might have been an innocent enough question, one out of simple curiosity, but the blonde Saber remained suspicious, particularly since the other Saber remained secretive. "Forgive me," she replied. "But such a question would reveal something of my identity, and you have not revealed yours first, regardless of our respective statuses in the War. On my honour, I must decline to answer."

     As cautious as she was now, it was probably for nothing. Her identity among the Union was not something that was especially secret. Moreover, her evasive answer was probably as close to an affirmative as she was going to get.

     And then, of course, her caution was completely thrown out the proverbial window, courtesy of Cass. The Servant nodded again. "Yes, how fare you, sir? It has been quite some time...a mission for the Brotherhood, if I am not mistaken?"

     It was a testament to the strength of her stoic mask that she didn't so much as twitch when Bedivere was tangentially identified. So not only would the Saber of Silver probably be able to figure out she was a king, she might even be able to piece together that she was none other than the King of Knights.

     Suddenly, a night at home had seemed like it would have been a much better idea.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The marshal takes his cup of tea in hand, considering the dark liquid in there as though it held the answer to all the quandaries of the multiverse. It doesn't, but it does give him something to look at that doesn't involve very nearly glaring at the poor other Servant. Perhaps it's a lifetime of justified paranoia, but he simply doesn't trust strangers; not until they've proven themselves to him, somehow.

His standards are a bit high.

Reaching up, he tugs at the bloodstone stud in his own ear, though it seems less a means to communicate anything to Arturia, and more a conflicted one. His Dál Riata name. While it's understandable, since there is no one alive who would know it, he actually has to think for a moment.

He'd left that part of himself behind when he had travelled to Camelot. Even the king had never learned what it was; though it was obvious that he had taken a Welsh name, simply to fit in with the populace. To keep his Dál Riata name only would have invited undue suspicion. While the two kingdoms had not warred, precisely, neither bore any particular love of the other. And the nobility needed scarcely any reason to mistrust outsiders or new people among their number.

Bedivere closes his eyes for a moment, taking a nice, long sip of that tea, apparently unconcerned at the heat of it. Violet eyes flicker open to regard the Saber of Silver, studying her closely. She seems shy, but that means nothing to him. That she hasn't even given her name is no small point of suspicion to him.

No one would recognise the name he gives. It isn't a lie; to be sure, it is with certainty his name. He had never told it to anyone, though, and it seemed the histories of the multiverse remembered him as the Welsh name he had taken -- Bedwyr, or Bedivere.

"My name is Fionnlagh." Certainly not a name Arturia would ever have heard. He glances to her as he gives it, perhaps curious what her reaction might be.

How much of the truth should he bend, he wonders? "And that is also true. I am a servant of the king." The particular word carries none of the inflection used for the two Sabers; and the way he uses it suggests that his position isn't one of any particular worth. A low-ranking vassal, or a bannerman, maybe. "I am honoured."

Pretty words, but Arturia's no fool when it comes to reading him. He's strung as taut and suspicious as a deer that just heard a branch snap a few feet away.

That this cowboy person seems to know things about Arturia, that doesn't really help, either. That he knows specifically about /him/, that's even more worrying. Violet eyes flick to Arturia in clear entreaty. /What are we to do?/

Saber of Silver (227) has posed:
"Mmm." Saber gives a nod of admission. "My opponent was quite strong." While it stil bothers her to hav elost, she doesn't seem despondant about it. It's merely... a worry.

"Ah... apologies." The Saber of Silver looks suitably embarrassed, at least. "You are correct. Asking so directly was stepping beyond my place." With how open things have been, she had started to wonder... but then both Saber and Bedivere confirmed it, without actually answering. So this Saber -is- a king.

"Fionn...lagh..." It is with some noticeable difficulty that the silver-haired Saber tries to pronounce the given name, and she probably butchers it utterly. As is apparent from her dress and features, she's Japanese. English is a language she can understand, but that is... quite unlike any name she's had to try before. "I will try to remember that." She says so, but it will take her some time before it sticks in her mind.

When Johnny addresses them, she looks directly at him. "I do not believe we've met." He -did- address a 'Miss Saber' and the silver-haired Saber is obviously the only female Servant here. Misunderstandings are wonderful. "But it's a pleasure. I am Saber." A quick glance to Arturia before she nods to Johnny again. "I have been called the Saber of Silver, so such a way of address would do."

Courier Six (32) has posed:
    Johnny senses the tension nearly immediately as the two Knights bristle at his hearty hellos. Oh dear. Busted. He sniffs a bit, and grins. "Honour be it then." The grin is a hollow one, as Cass happily downs her whiskey, and swats at the table. "Hnnngf. And yeah, the Assassins are a bunch of jerks. Not that it means much these days but we had a buncha them pokin' around Vegas a while. Prolly cause Johnny was bein' sweet on a Templar, weren'tcha Johnny?"
    Now is the time for gossip, it would seem, as the Courier snorts a bit into his own drink. "Please excuse my companion, and my, ah... forwardness. I keep forgettin' stuff's secret from time to time."

    It's not like he has robots keeping an eye on the public channels for intel or anything.

    Though. Japanese, Saber of Silver. Very polite. More information to file away in his noggin. "Pleasure to meet you. Ah, I'm the fellow in charge of keeping New Vegas running. You may have heard of us, we're one of the sponsors of the tournament."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Admittedly, her choice of what name she had hinted for him to give was both a gamble and something that she had been somewhat reluctant to employ. Arturia had been meaning to ask that question when they were alone at home, perhaps chatting over dinner or another one of the chess matches she could never seem to win against him -- he was the Marshal of Camelot for very good reasons -- as a means of making up for lost time. She was still trying to find new things about her knight, one she had been forced to keep at the metaphorical arm's length for the sake of impartiality.

     Carefully, she kept her expression neutral as he spoke it. It was a nice name, and in a way she was still both touched yet saddened that he had given up his cultural identity to serve her as a Knight of the Round Table, even if he had done so willingly. And there would be time for questions when they returned home.

     Her glance to him conveyed her approval; while she would probably be able to discern that Saber had been a king, it was possible that, of she was led to believe he was a simple vassal, she might not yet discern that she was one of the Kings of the War.

     Her knight was certainly -- and perhaps justifiably -- tense, and Arturia met his gaze with one of her own, and his entreaty was certainly noticed. Her own in turn was a /Let's wait and see/. This was neutral territory, and the silver Saber hardly looked the foolhardy type.

     She did relax, however; at least she hadn't quite put all the pieces together, thank the Lord God.

     Now she was cautious for a different reason, being that she was an ally of the Brotherhood and counted a few of them as friends. On the other hand... "Some of their methods can be rather...questionable, I will admit." They /were/ Assassins, after all, Ezio's sense of his own unique chivalry notwithstanding. "it is all right," she replied with a faint, reasonably friendly smile. And hoped that there wasn't too much 'secret stuff' on her.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
For the time being, the pale-haired knight contents himself with watching their various company. Every so often he watches one or the other; either the unknown Servant, or the cowboy and his entourage. He's making more an effort to hide his suspicion, though no doubt Arturia knows he's still very much on high alert. As is most likely expected. He is, after all, a member of her honour guard.

Also, uh... well, kind of the only one.

"'Finlay,'" he offers helpfully to the Saber of Silver, in that soft voice. Nor does he draw emphasis to any kind of title. Perhaps the Saber he serves is some kind of Irish warrior, and he himself no more than a commoner? Truth in part, again, and perhaps depending on how the matter is examined. But those truths won't come to light unless his hand is forced, or Arturia herself feels comfortable revealing them.

His eyes flick to Johnny as the cowboy speaks. His expression never changes at the mention of assassins, but there's somehow a certain... disapproval... about him. Such tactics were never honourable by his estimates, even if such tactics were at times necessary for the good of the realm.

When Johnny apologises for his straightforwardness, Bedivere simply inclines his head, tilting it slightly to one side in a gesture of acceptance and acknowledgement. Elegant, though it's clear that he's still watching both carefully.

Bedivere calmly takes a sip of tea, though, content to watch the others carefully. And somehow managing not to radiate too much suspicion.

Or pain. His side still hurts like a son of a bitch, and he's /definitely/ trying not to let Arturia pick up on that.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Oh, she certainly saw it, Bedivere. She certainly did.

     While their ability to 'synch' with one another had many advantages in battle and in some situations like the one they now found themselves it, it likewise made it much harder to keep secrets from one another. The only way they had even managed in Camelot was almost an extension of that, a mutual blinding that was agreed to in order to protect Arturia's rule and Bedivere's position.

     Only now, that nonverbal communication was working against the good marshal. Only a single glance -- slightly prolonged in her case -- was all it took.

     Finishing her tea, Saber smiled at their table's guests. "Please forgive the abruptness, but it would seem that my companion and I must take our leave," she announced softly. "I have enjoyed our conversation, however brief. And, as agreed upon, I shall be honoured to spar with you, my lady."

     It probably didn't help Arturia's case to smile faintly and act chivalrously, but she /was/ the King of Knights. It was in her blood.

     That done, the Servant took her leave, taking the beleaguered Marshal of Camelot with her. Fortunately, she doubted that this time he would 'argue' the point.