[Rearing Stallion] The Artless Codger (Jokor)

[Dayn]

Dayn gave a snort. “Can’t hold my liquor? Huh, that’s rich coming from a tyke scarcely off his mother’s teats, but fair enough. I don’t know why, but you look awfully familiar.” He stared off into space, briefly wondering if the boy was one of his bastards. No, he’s too ugly, he thought, and besides, he doesn’t have my chin.

“You know, if you’re looking for some dinner to go with all the free booze, you should probably steer clear of this joint. I heard one of the boys pissed in the stew,” he lied. “It’s not sanitary in the least, but that’s service for you.” Dayn had always enjoyed making up rumors, so even while he was heavily inebriated, he was careful to keep his voice down. Tyveth wouldn’t approve of him dragging the integrity of this establishment through the muck, nor would he be doing himself any favors by insulting the owner. He was about to motion for another tankard, but then he realized the scene that would cause, and reached for his hip flask instead. “Always keep some of the good stuff on you, lad,” he giggled. “Now, what did you say your name was?”

[Jokor]

Jokor raised his eyebrows in confusion as the dayn mentioned something about him looking familiar. “I think thats just yer muddled brain talking, I haven't ever saw you before and I don't think I would forget a bastard like you when tha entire city is overflown with people that have an oar or three stuck so deep in their arses I am amazed they can still sit down.” Jokor snorted when he tried convincing him that somebody had pissed in the stew that they served here. “Oh if one of them did that I woulda know,” He gave a devilish smirk as he took another sip from his beer. “Their would have been a dead body nailed to the door knights or not, the guy who runs this establishment wouldn't have liked that. He is an ex-knight you know, all stuffy about honor and being honest and stuff.” He drained his pint of beer and set down his tankard. When the man asked for his name again jokor just sighed, great the guy really was going to get roaring drunk and even now he wasn't even able to remember his name. “Ya can call me jokor, now just buy me a bowl of stew to will ya, I need something to down that tankard of beer with and I'm still hungry.”

[Dayn]

Once again, this lad – this slight, scruffy boy – was patronizing him. Dayn had never liked children. They tended to be dirty, and got sick all over your boots when they drank too much ale. This lad mustn’t have decent parents, if he was carousing along with a bunch of burly men. That was never wise. Even so, he couldn’t help but snicker at the bastard crack. “You should repeat that to my father,” he said, wondering how old, crusty Ser Davic would respond to a slight upon the Nigriso family honor. Hopefully have a heart attack and die. Dayn’s lips curled into a broad smile as he envisioned that happy, joyous day. He absently raised his tankard, only to find it empty. Blast.

“Jokor, is it?” Dayn frowned at the request. First he was purchasing drinks for children, and now they were asking him for stew? If this lad had had a proper father, he certainly would have told him not to accept bowls of stew from strange men. That wasn’t the thing the bothered him, though. He didn’t give a shyke about money, at least when it came to the spending part. His purse strings were looser than a dockside strumpet after she’d spread her legs for a load of seamen. No, what bothered him was that the lad hadn’t said the magic word, and worse, that he persisted with his foul-mouthed tirades. “Listen up, m’lad,” he said, standing up. “You’ve got to work on your manners. I have just the thing for that.” He snaked an arm around the boy’s narrow chest and hauled him up, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of yams as he headed for the door. I’d make such a great father, he thought with a grin.