Arnbjorn was still grinning by the time the two of them rejoined their companions in the Flagon. Astrid had already reassumed her aloof demeanor but for once Arnbjorn knew exactly what she was thinking. And it made him feel ecstatic. He sat down next to his wife at the table, his wife, and picked up the dice as if nothing at all had changed.

Arnbjorn grabbed the dice and gave them a good shake before dropping them into the palm of his hand. "Twelve. So that means one."

"Brilliant. Bloody Brilliant," Delvin muttered, as he drained his cup.

"You have to remove someone else's clothes. But you can't use your hands," he said smugly. Delvin sighed. What goes around comes around.

"Suppose I deserve it, eh? I accept. I accept. Say, Vex? How'd you like-"

"No. Never. Don't even think about it."

"Aww come on! I'd be a gentleman about it!"

"Over. Your. Dead. Body." She hissed.

"Cicero volunteers!" A shrill voice called from across the table. The room fell silent as everyone turned towards the jester in shock. The skinny redhead burst into wild laughter.

"Yeah, thanks but, I may have to, uh, respectfully decline…Sapphire? Any chance I could ask a favor?"

"Not even a little bit. I'm not evening playing."

"Tonilia?" His voice sounded more than a little bit desperate.

"I'm not playing either, remember?Just watching the pot." She said quickly. Babette ducked behind Nazir. She didn't think she'd really be considered, but she certainly wasn't going to take any chances.

"Astrid?—ah just kidding…" He added hastily, catching a terrifying look from Arnbjorn. Cicero cackled with glee. "Bryn? I don't mind if-"

"No!"

"Thought I'd ask." Delvin glanced around the table nervously. "Alright, alright," he turned towards Cicero, "You asked for it." He stood up and approached the giggling jester. "Come on then, kneel." Still, shaking with mirth, Cicero obligingly slid to the floor.

Delvin started with the ties on the back of Cicero's motley. Working the garment off the strange little man's shoulders was going to take some real skill, which, as luck would have it, Delvin just happened to have in droves.

"That tickles!" Cicero screamed. Delvin ignored him and continued loosening the jester's top. The crowd laughed and cheered.

"Have you done this before, lad?" Brynjolf teased. Delvin let Cicero's motley drop from his mouth.

"I thought this were 'dares' not 'truth'?" He grumbled as he returned to yanking Cicero's sleeve from his arm. The task was going surprisingly well. In a matter of seconds Cicero had been relieved of both sleeves, shoes, and gloves, though his shirt still hung floppily around his neck.

Tonilia screamed with laughter. "Divines, maybe I should have accepted."

"I'd be more than willing to switch partners." Delvin muttered, spitting out a clump of wet velvet.

"Why stop you while you're ahead?" Tonilia smirked. Delvin made a face at her, before returning to Cicero.

Delvin was faced with a dilemma. The Cicero's pants would be easy to remove, but only if was lying on his back with Delvin on top of him. This wasn't a sight Delvin necessarily wanted to treat his audience to, but a stunt like that could buy him a few more points or at least, a few more pints.

"On the ground man. Only way." Cicero threw himself on the ground, limps splayed in all directions.

"Dibella's shinny golden ass- if that's how you want it then…." Delvin knelt down and tried to tug the Jester's shirt off. But Cicero was literally bucking with mirth.

"Ow! Fuck! Stop kicking me, will ya?"Delvin snapped as Cicero's knee slammed into his face. Cicero ignored him and continued writhing around on the floor. Delvin checked his nose for blood. There was none as of yet, but Cicero was still thrashing around like a fish on land, screaming with laughter.

"Alright I've had enough of this. Nutter's gonna put me eye out."

Arnbjorn was not impressed. "Four points," he grumbled.

"Four points! I just stripped a man! With my mouth!"

"Huh. You barely got his shirt off—Oh alright fine. Six points. Take 'em or leave 'em."

Cicero nodded. Delvin continued, "Alright then. He's tired with Astrid and – eh, you never told us how many points ol' breadry- I mean your husband, earned."

Astrid rolled her eyes at the jab, "Nine points."

"Nine! Woman you poured candle wax down my back!"

"Fine. Seven."

"So I guess I'm winning," Arnbjorn said proudly.

"For now," added Brynjolf and a few others nodded.

"Cicero's turn next?" the little jester asked when he finally caught his breath.

"No…why don't, why don't you take a few minutes to calm down. Collect yourself," said Tomila suggested gently.

"Maybe put your clothes back on," Astrid added.