George considered his options. Joke about Brass. Not speaking. Joke about brass. Not speaking. He completely and utterly hated being quiet, but he didn't know how to really act around Arthur. Not everyone could behave like Merlin and keep their head after all. He sighed, looking at the completely blank walls of his cottage. Having a life hadn't really been his top priority until the moment Arthur declared him boring. Maybe he should travel to Mercia.
He could go down to the tavern. Drink until he was completely pissed then do something extremely dumb much like Sir Gwaine did, before and after he received his knighthood. Apparently Merlin went there quite a bit too. Could it be possible that George could ask him to be a drinking mate? Ridicioulous. George wasn't boring. George was a pleasant fellow George was—
Late.
This was the first time he had ever been late in his two and a half decades on this Earth.
It was thrilling it was invigorating it...he's being yelled at.
George truly felt alive.