Cedric explored the room with his vision, gathering every detail of the ornate interior he could fathom. As he was doing so, Francis kept his diversely coloured eyes up on him intently. His longing stare was distant but rather harsh, though not intentionally directed towards the man on the opposing side of the table. "It's not your first time in here, you know," he commented. This bleak quip did not faze Cedric, but he simply replied, "It's been awhile since I've set foot in the Crop Circle Inn." He then faced Francis in an unhurried turn. The countenance he was greeted with nearly startled him. He rolled back his shoulders and continued with his formal tone. "Nothing's really changed."

Only a slight tilt of the head was the initial reaction. Not even his expression shifted in the smallest feature.

Cedric rapped his fingers on the sleek hardwood of the tabletop, switching his gaze down to his plate. It was upon a white laced mat, riddled with a few past food stains. His half-eaten meal lay atop, which heavily stood apart from that of Francis, as he had barely touched his. In conclusion, Cedric's eyelids moved down halfway, and he bluntly asked, "What's bothering you? I thought you wanted to come to the diner with me."

In an instant, Francis flushed in both embarrassment and disgruntlement, and he repressed his cold stare. "I..." he stuttered, thinking that he'd insulted him, "I-I'm sorry, it's just that... she-"

"Who is she?"

He dared not to look at him in the eye as he forced the truth out of his mouth. "She... she laughed at my theory."

Cedric arched an eyebrow. "What theory? What are you talking about?"

"I've told someone else that I was in relation with the queen." Francis looked down at his plate when Cedric buried his face in his hands. He said, "I- I just thought that she would believe-"

"Who is she?" Cedric firmly asked again, peeking at him through his fingers.

"Gayle."

His eyebrows shot upward as he erected his back in both shock and disbelief. "Lady Gayle!" he nearly shouted. Francis knew that this would infuriate him. Even if Cedric was not native to this island, almost everyone knew of the duchess of Arturus and who she was.

Cedric was truly ready to chastise his friend. He could not let his obscene imagination spread any more than it had been. The analysis of Francis and the queen looking alike would have been interesting the first days he had mentioned the matter; not very believable, but much more captivating than now, at least. Perhaps they could even joke about it here and there. Jumping to the bound conclusion that they were related was what made it monotonous and too far-fetched. Right as Cedric was about to open his mouth to tell him this, however, a new face stepped in to the conversation.

"What is this?" he said.

This man looked to be middle-aged, somewhat older than Cedric. He had whitish-blond hair that softly curled away from his face, and he wore loose brown robes to cover the majority of his body below his neck. Cedric also noticed that his gaze instantly held attention towards Francis who, in return, also looked up at him.

"Oh, hello, Arthur," said Francis, in a distant tone. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Francis, my boy," Arthur greeted him with a nod, "Are you still spreading your little rumors about 'ESP'?"

The young man responded in a forced laugh. "Of course not! As a matter of fact, I hadn't brought it up at all." His eyes were avoiding direct eye contact.

Arthur frowned. "I shouldn't hear of the matter at all, young man. A sixth sense is merely an impossibility; there would be no point of proposal for a theory without evident support," he inquired, and walked away as he shook his head in utter disbelief.

Francis glared in the direction he was descending in, and muttered, "And you believe in alien life beyond the stars."

Cedric also watched the man walk away until he turned a corner, then faced his comrade once again. "Do you know him?"

"Sometimes I regret doing so," Francis asserted. Another flame flickered inside himself, but refrained from giving away another nasty glare. Him and Arthur had a brief but abhorrent history. Francis evaded thinking any more about him after their every encounter, other than mentally referring him as a "senile old bastard", knowing that Arthur had thought similarly about Francis. He loathed the way Arthur thought; always so down to earth, there has to be a 'logical scientific explanation' for all occurances, and so forth. To make his own matters worse, whatever theory Francis inquired, Arthur would be there to shut it down, whether it was "physically impossible", "looking over an obvious fact", or anything else among those lines. His words would always tend to stain Francis in his mind, so every discouraging remark he heard from him would leave Francis scowling in his direction. But, moving his eyes back towards Cedric, he eventually stopped right before his face burned with embarrassment. "Sorry," he mustered to say.

"Anyway," Cedric began a new subject, "what was that news you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh!" Francis quickly straightened up his back. He laced his fingers together atop the table while he scanned his comrade with excitement. "Yeah... Did you hear about the queen?" Seeing Cedric's unintended smirk flash on his face, which tilted slightly downwards, his friend proceeded to reveal:

"She's getting married to the Duke of Avalon!"

Suddenly, warm blood rushed through Cedric's face, and his heart skipped a beat.

"...What?" he stammered.