A Holiday by Decree

~~ Day 3 ~~

Returning to the manor, Tyrion felt more energized than expected given his sleeplessness. He could tell that his face was probably flushed from the exertion. He had trekked from one guard station to the other on the long stretch of the property's private beach. Given the bright morning, he judged that the afternoon sun was on its way to becoming very intense. Still, he had been glad for the heat, as with help from the seabreeze, his pants had dried out from being wetted by the sand. He had worked up a sweat, though it was nothing that a bath with a quick breakfast could not fix–

"Milord-" A maid intersected his path, as he turned toward his rooms. "Lady Sansa extends an invite to breakfast with her in the Grand Dining Area," the girl explained.

Tyrion froze to the spot. He was also left speechless; though rare for him, it was becoming more of an occurrence on this trip it seemed.

He had not been expecting to hear from the Queen in the North so soon. He had figured he would be lucky if he was invited for a single dinner before one of them left…

Get yourself together, man - he told himself quickly.

He had no idea what time it was: "What time will she be eating?" he asked, conscientious of his beach beaten appearance.

"Now, Milord. The meal was ready when the Lady indicated about your joining her, sir," the maid replied contritely.

Tyrion sighed, gazing longingly toward his rooms. It wouldn't do to delay for the time it would take to really freshen up, as apparently somehow the meal was being held for him. He also couldn't bear the thought of begging off and giving the appearance of making light of Sansa's kind effort; with his luck, he wouldn't be invited again.

"Very well, show me to the washroom on the way," he replied, before following the girl down the hall.

After at least splashing some water across his face, Tyrion headed out to the open air dining area where he and Sansa had discovered each other the day before. This time he found Sansa seated at the other, far end of the table though. As he had expected, she sat looking like a vision in a soft, light purple gown - perfect as always, not a hair out of place.

'My lady," he smiled with a quick but polite bow. Glancing quickly, he saw only a tea cup at her place. She had been waiting for him, so he was eager to be seated. Crossing to a spot across and a few places down from Sansa, he began to work on scooting the chair out for himself.

"My Lord," she said. "You may sit where you like, but this place has already been set."

Tyrion looked over to see: across from her, was a second place setting, and the dining chair had already been pulled out, rather thoughtfully, at just the right angle.