Act II

[Tiger]

"This ship, sir, the slip," he sibilated, speaking slowly to stress the hissing sound on each S. It seemed to Francis that Arthur knew very well about his counterfeit of which they spoke and merely did not want to answer. He knew, however, that he could coax any words out of anyone at any cost. This would be no different. "Can you not conceive?" With this question he made his suspicions vocal. Certainly, he thought, this will get him to answer.

[Jimmeh]

"Pardon, good France," Arthur responded, rolling his eyes at how he was suddenly being pressed for an answer. He did, in his own way, want to speak of what had happened the last night, but knew he couldn't. Of course he'd have to make up a name, and another house, and perhaps to the others this would not feel the event itself was very interesting and even forget it after a few days or hours. "My business was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy."

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[Tiger]

Francis grinned, knowing exactly what Arthur actually meant--or, rather, assuming that he knew exactly what Arthur meant. "That's as much as to say such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams," he commented sardonically, rolling his eyes as an indirect way of pressing for more specific information. Even though he had managed to get the gist of the situation, specifics never hurt. On the contrary, more detail was better, at least, in his opinion.

[Jimmeh]

[[ooc: The later I stay up at night roleplaying, the more my writing deteriorates (permanently). xD]]

"Meaning, to court'sy," he insisted, crossing his arms in an almost stern way. Arthur had never been skilled at winning arguments, and this would obviously be one of the many ones he had attempted. The thought made him nervous; he should have been winning, and telling the story to an experienced (or, at least experienced in the matter) person like Francis. Yet, he had a feeling he would have some fun teasing the two--after all, he was kind of an open book, and didn't have very many secrets.

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[Tiger]

"Thou hast most kindly hit it," Francis observed, still sarcastic. He chuckled a bit at his unplanned double entendre and then turned his gaze back to Arthur, observing him as he waited for his next response. There was something almost catlike in his behavior, the way he anticipated the upcoming words and in his slyly narrowed blue eyes. This characteristic was one he had often admired in himself that usually frightened others.

[Jimmeh]

"A most courteous exposition," Arthur replied, nodding in agreement, and trying to keep the conversation going in circles. He knew for a fact the easiest way to distract Francis was to engage him in either flattery or some kind of wordplay, and mentally prepared himself for his upcoming replies. Vaguely, he wondered what time he should be on his way, but decided it wouldn't be for another few hours and he was safe until then.

[Tiger]

Francis pursed his lips quizzically and twirled a lock of blond hair between his fingertips. "Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy." He had to have had a rather interesting definition of courtesy if he could find himself to be courteous, and indeed he did. Politeness to him bordered on rudeness to most, and it encompassed much more invasive behavior than what was socially desirable. How any of his advances could be rejected was far, far beyond him.

[Jimmeh]

[[ooc: P-R-O-C-R-A-S-T-I-N-A-T-I-O-N. Triple word score!]]

He thought over Francis's statement briefly; courteous was the last word he would ever use to describe the Frenchman. Then again, there was something to be appreciated about his often exaggerated confidence; he often felt better when he was around him, somehow--almost self-righteous, as if the whole world was against him, but he could beat them down somehow. "Pink for flower," Arthur finally replied with a smirk, and ruffled his hair in a vain attempt to cool himself--the weather was growing continually hotter by the hour.

[Tiger]

Francis paused, unsure of how he should reply. "Pink for flower"...so he was a courteous pink plant, then. He would not let such an insult go to his head, however, and merely murmured the word "right" in a slightly sardonic yet puzzled way. This tangent of punning had not lost its spark, however; he had just hit a small bump in the wordplay. What's there to be said after this? he thought while knowing that Arthur would easily continue their banter and the whole thing would pick up right on track.

[Jimmeh]

"Why," he commented lightly, taking a few steps toward him and gesturing down towards his shoe, which had been trimmed with pinking shears--he knew Francis was clever enough to appreciate the pun--"then, is my pump well flowered." He smirked at his own joke, though it was more amusing to himself than it was for anyone else.

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