Varn was pleased with the turn of events. Even Daros agreed he couldn’t have the sellsword help if he stank, and Varn was allowed a nice, hot fancy bath. He smelled wonderful and his hair was even neatly placed. He wasn’t thrilled about the attire he was given, but he couldn’t exactly appear as a common thug at such a royal gathering. The half Dothraki’s gaze passed over the others that mingled about in the lower levels. Every now and then his mind wandered back to that bold huntress that was irritating him in the courtyard. A faint grin graced his face as he reached for his flask - only to be reminded that he had to leave it behind for now.
A lute played somewhere and was accompanied by a voice to provide background entertainment. As a servant walked by with a tray, Varn helped himself to an apple, snagging it to take a bite as his gaze flashed up towards where the nobles congregated. He could spot Daros there, standing stiff as if he had the highest peak of the Mountains of the Moon firmly up his ass. Next to him were two ladies all dolled up, their faces practically etched on. The smell of food was intoxicating, and he despised the reality that he would sample very little of the meats.
He kept to himself for now, looking around for a way to grab himself a drink to make the evening remotely tolerable.