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Krysto stared into the bottom of his cup. He didn't often make it to taverns anymore. Most of his drinking was done with his betrothed or King Achilleas. Yet, he had found the need for a night off. A night away from the Palati where he could try and rest his exhausted mind after taking on a new position within its marble walls. The new Captain of the Kingsguard, the man had been tasked with assessing all of the current guards within the Palati and determining what should be done with some of them.
It was a labor of dedication and effort and Krysto was certainly taking his time. If he was going to move people around, fire them, or exchange them for other soldiers from other units, then he was going to be damn sure that he was making the right choices. That was all that he really could do. One wrong move and the queen and princesses of Mikaelidas would both be in danger while the men left for Egypt. Krysto would not risk that, especially not when his own betrothed would likely be working in the Palati. While heavy with his unborn child, no less.
That was such a harrowing and nervewracking subject to think about. Leaving his betrothed and unborn child while he went off to war. Such was his duty, but he would always have his own reservations about it. Not that he would leave King Achilleas to fend for himself at all.
There would never be any chance of that. Ever. Not in the slightest.
But the Captain still needed a break. So he had seeked out one of the warmer taverns and started in on a cup or two of wine. His favorite thing to do was people watch, as he had seen many of these people many times over in his lifetime. He had served the order for so long that their faces were familiar even if he didn't outwardly remember all of their names.
There was one man in the tavern that Krysto was familiar with the sight of. The man who had worked on Queen Theodora's gown at the wedding, who had also been seen on the arm of Nana of Leventi, and had been seen from time to time escorting Princess Xene around the grounds. He wasn't blind to Basilides, but he wasn't put off by him either. As far as Krysto was concerned, there was no reason to fear the man. Besides, he wasn't the most muscular of men, not that that was a bad thing.
Having watched him from across the tavern for some minutes, Krysto finally decided to get up and join him at his table. "You look a little worse for wear," Krysto commented lightly. "How many cups of wine have you had, Basilides?" he questioned. Yes. It was his job to know everyone who came in and out of that Palati. Basilides was no true stranger.
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Krysto stared into the bottom of his cup. He didn't often make it to taverns anymore. Most of his drinking was done with his betrothed or King Achilleas. Yet, he had found the need for a night off. A night away from the Palati where he could try and rest his exhausted mind after taking on a new position within its marble walls. The new Captain of the Kingsguard, the man had been tasked with assessing all of the current guards within the Palati and determining what should be done with some of them.
It was a labor of dedication and effort and Krysto was certainly taking his time. If he was going to move people around, fire them, or exchange them for other soldiers from other units, then he was going to be damn sure that he was making the right choices. That was all that he really could do. One wrong move and the queen and princesses of Mikaelidas would both be in danger while the men left for Egypt. Krysto would not risk that, especially not when his own betrothed would likely be working in the Palati. While heavy with his unborn child, no less.
That was such a harrowing and nervewracking subject to think about. Leaving his betrothed and unborn child while he went off to war. Such was his duty, but he would always have his own reservations about it. Not that he would leave King Achilleas to fend for himself at all.
There would never be any chance of that. Ever. Not in the slightest.
But the Captain still needed a break. So he had seeked out one of the warmer taverns and started in on a cup or two of wine. His favorite thing to do was people watch, as he had seen many of these people many times over in his lifetime. He had served the order for so long that their faces were familiar even if he didn't outwardly remember all of their names.
There was one man in the tavern that Krysto was familiar with the sight of. The man who had worked on Queen Theodora's gown at the wedding, who had also been seen on the arm of Nana of Leventi, and had been seen from time to time escorting Princess Xene around the grounds. He wasn't blind to Basilides, but he wasn't put off by him either. As far as Krysto was concerned, there was no reason to fear the man. Besides, he wasn't the most muscular of men, not that that was a bad thing.
Having watched him from across the tavern for some minutes, Krysto finally decided to get up and join him at his table. "You look a little worse for wear," Krysto commented lightly. "How many cups of wine have you had, Basilides?" he questioned. Yes. It was his job to know everyone who came in and out of that Palati. Basilides was no true stranger.
Krysto stared into the bottom of his cup. He didn't often make it to taverns anymore. Most of his drinking was done with his betrothed or King Achilleas. Yet, he had found the need for a night off. A night away from the Palati where he could try and rest his exhausted mind after taking on a new position within its marble walls. The new Captain of the Kingsguard, the man had been tasked with assessing all of the current guards within the Palati and determining what should be done with some of them.
It was a labor of dedication and effort and Krysto was certainly taking his time. If he was going to move people around, fire them, or exchange them for other soldiers from other units, then he was going to be damn sure that he was making the right choices. That was all that he really could do. One wrong move and the queen and princesses of Mikaelidas would both be in danger while the men left for Egypt. Krysto would not risk that, especially not when his own betrothed would likely be working in the Palati. While heavy with his unborn child, no less.
That was such a harrowing and nervewracking subject to think about. Leaving his betrothed and unborn child while he went off to war. Such was his duty, but he would always have his own reservations about it. Not that he would leave King Achilleas to fend for himself at all.
There would never be any chance of that. Ever. Not in the slightest.
But the Captain still needed a break. So he had seeked out one of the warmer taverns and started in on a cup or two of wine. His favorite thing to do was people watch, as he had seen many of these people many times over in his lifetime. He had served the order for so long that their faces were familiar even if he didn't outwardly remember all of their names.
There was one man in the tavern that Krysto was familiar with the sight of. The man who had worked on Queen Theodora's gown at the wedding, who had also been seen on the arm of Nana of Leventi, and had been seen from time to time escorting Princess Xene around the grounds. He wasn't blind to Basilides, but he wasn't put off by him either. As far as Krysto was concerned, there was no reason to fear the man. Besides, he wasn't the most muscular of men, not that that was a bad thing.
Having watched him from across the tavern for some minutes, Krysto finally decided to get up and join him at his table. "You look a little worse for wear," Krysto commented lightly. "How many cups of wine have you had, Basilides?" he questioned. Yes. It was his job to know everyone who came in and out of that Palati. Basilides was no true stranger.
The days that followed the reality of Zephyrus' death were unpredictable, in that Basilides felt as if he were of two minds that could change from moment to moment. In certain moments, he was cool and collected, able to make his appointments with the Guild and send missives home. It was as if, in those moments, he had been an actor - slipping into the illusion of a normal day, offering smiles, shaking hands and exchanging coins, just as the script had set his life out, scene for scene. It was almost easy.
That was, until at some point, as the day withered on and the other merchants and vendors found their ways back to their homes and hearths, did Basilides truly feel alone. Usually, before the sun set across the harbor, he found his bottles and retreated to the rented rooms at the boarding house and drank himself to sleep. Tonight, though, as one of the latter meetings left him with a slightly heady buzz of drinks and food, he was not quite in the mood to retreat again.
So, he wandered through the city, drifting from one tavern to another, sharing a drink with a slightly familiar face or two until he left some coin on the bartop and moved to the next. It was in one of these, after his prior company had drifted away with whomever that he realized that he had all but forgotten their name by the time they walked away. In his right mind, that would have been the moment to set down his coin and start his wandering home.
Yet, bless this tavern - they had an excellent selection.
Draining the last of his cup, he motioned for the barkeep to pour another, his head wobbling slightly as he turned to see someone approaching. He blinked a few times, taking in the man's entirely too familiar face. Krysto, but he could not remember from where, but he was a part of the Order. His face was seen around the Palati and they may have shared a few passing words as he waited for Princess Xene a time or two. As he started to greet, he took breath to form the words when a soft burp remained muffled in his throat. He lifted the back of his hand to his lips to smother the rude moment.
There was a bleariness to his eyes that was unmistakable, yet Basilides' mind refused to acknowledge how out of sorts he had become. Basilides offered a lopsided smirk and a darkish laugh as he shook his head at the man's assessment. Krysto had no idea, nor would he know the reason why.
No sooner had the man asked how many cups he had that night, the barkeep had finished refilling the one before him. Basilides shrugged at the man's question and nodded a thanks to the barkeep - a man who knew better than to ask a ridiculous question like that.
"They have reeeally good wine here," Basilides said, his words slightly slurring in their emphasis as he raised the cup to his lips taking a deep swig from the cup and swallowing it with an exaggerated sigh. Lifting his half-lidded eyes to the Captain, he raised his brows and jostled the cup towards him, offering, "Want some?"
In the suddenness of his movement, a gloriously smooth dribble of wine coated the backs of his fingers, the remainder spilling onto the edge of the bar and to the floor, drawing a soft curse from his lips, "Shit, sorry..."
Staring at the small bubble of wine on the ground, he instinctively raised the cup to his lips again, a sloppy slurping sound filling the air as he took another too-deep swill.
"Well, how goes it, anyway?" he started, the tone of his voice the result of a man trying too hard to seem like everything was fine, falling into the ease of smaller talk, "Been busy?"
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The days that followed the reality of Zephyrus' death were unpredictable, in that Basilides felt as if he were of two minds that could change from moment to moment. In certain moments, he was cool and collected, able to make his appointments with the Guild and send missives home. It was as if, in those moments, he had been an actor - slipping into the illusion of a normal day, offering smiles, shaking hands and exchanging coins, just as the script had set his life out, scene for scene. It was almost easy.
That was, until at some point, as the day withered on and the other merchants and vendors found their ways back to their homes and hearths, did Basilides truly feel alone. Usually, before the sun set across the harbor, he found his bottles and retreated to the rented rooms at the boarding house and drank himself to sleep. Tonight, though, as one of the latter meetings left him with a slightly heady buzz of drinks and food, he was not quite in the mood to retreat again.
So, he wandered through the city, drifting from one tavern to another, sharing a drink with a slightly familiar face or two until he left some coin on the bartop and moved to the next. It was in one of these, after his prior company had drifted away with whomever that he realized that he had all but forgotten their name by the time they walked away. In his right mind, that would have been the moment to set down his coin and start his wandering home.
Yet, bless this tavern - they had an excellent selection.
Draining the last of his cup, he motioned for the barkeep to pour another, his head wobbling slightly as he turned to see someone approaching. He blinked a few times, taking in the man's entirely too familiar face. Krysto, but he could not remember from where, but he was a part of the Order. His face was seen around the Palati and they may have shared a few passing words as he waited for Princess Xene a time or two. As he started to greet, he took breath to form the words when a soft burp remained muffled in his throat. He lifted the back of his hand to his lips to smother the rude moment.
There was a bleariness to his eyes that was unmistakable, yet Basilides' mind refused to acknowledge how out of sorts he had become. Basilides offered a lopsided smirk and a darkish laugh as he shook his head at the man's assessment. Krysto had no idea, nor would he know the reason why.
No sooner had the man asked how many cups he had that night, the barkeep had finished refilling the one before him. Basilides shrugged at the man's question and nodded a thanks to the barkeep - a man who knew better than to ask a ridiculous question like that.
"They have reeeally good wine here," Basilides said, his words slightly slurring in their emphasis as he raised the cup to his lips taking a deep swig from the cup and swallowing it with an exaggerated sigh. Lifting his half-lidded eyes to the Captain, he raised his brows and jostled the cup towards him, offering, "Want some?"
In the suddenness of his movement, a gloriously smooth dribble of wine coated the backs of his fingers, the remainder spilling onto the edge of the bar and to the floor, drawing a soft curse from his lips, "Shit, sorry..."
Staring at the small bubble of wine on the ground, he instinctively raised the cup to his lips again, a sloppy slurping sound filling the air as he took another too-deep swill.
"Well, how goes it, anyway?" he started, the tone of his voice the result of a man trying too hard to seem like everything was fine, falling into the ease of smaller talk, "Been busy?"
The days that followed the reality of Zephyrus' death were unpredictable, in that Basilides felt as if he were of two minds that could change from moment to moment. In certain moments, he was cool and collected, able to make his appointments with the Guild and send missives home. It was as if, in those moments, he had been an actor - slipping into the illusion of a normal day, offering smiles, shaking hands and exchanging coins, just as the script had set his life out, scene for scene. It was almost easy.
That was, until at some point, as the day withered on and the other merchants and vendors found their ways back to their homes and hearths, did Basilides truly feel alone. Usually, before the sun set across the harbor, he found his bottles and retreated to the rented rooms at the boarding house and drank himself to sleep. Tonight, though, as one of the latter meetings left him with a slightly heady buzz of drinks and food, he was not quite in the mood to retreat again.
So, he wandered through the city, drifting from one tavern to another, sharing a drink with a slightly familiar face or two until he left some coin on the bartop and moved to the next. It was in one of these, after his prior company had drifted away with whomever that he realized that he had all but forgotten their name by the time they walked away. In his right mind, that would have been the moment to set down his coin and start his wandering home.
Yet, bless this tavern - they had an excellent selection.
Draining the last of his cup, he motioned for the barkeep to pour another, his head wobbling slightly as he turned to see someone approaching. He blinked a few times, taking in the man's entirely too familiar face. Krysto, but he could not remember from where, but he was a part of the Order. His face was seen around the Palati and they may have shared a few passing words as he waited for Princess Xene a time or two. As he started to greet, he took breath to form the words when a soft burp remained muffled in his throat. He lifted the back of his hand to his lips to smother the rude moment.
There was a bleariness to his eyes that was unmistakable, yet Basilides' mind refused to acknowledge how out of sorts he had become. Basilides offered a lopsided smirk and a darkish laugh as he shook his head at the man's assessment. Krysto had no idea, nor would he know the reason why.
No sooner had the man asked how many cups he had that night, the barkeep had finished refilling the one before him. Basilides shrugged at the man's question and nodded a thanks to the barkeep - a man who knew better than to ask a ridiculous question like that.
"They have reeeally good wine here," Basilides said, his words slightly slurring in their emphasis as he raised the cup to his lips taking a deep swig from the cup and swallowing it with an exaggerated sigh. Lifting his half-lidded eyes to the Captain, he raised his brows and jostled the cup towards him, offering, "Want some?"
In the suddenness of his movement, a gloriously smooth dribble of wine coated the backs of his fingers, the remainder spilling onto the edge of the bar and to the floor, drawing a soft curse from his lips, "Shit, sorry..."
Staring at the small bubble of wine on the ground, he instinctively raised the cup to his lips again, a sloppy slurping sound filling the air as he took another too-deep swill.
"Well, how goes it, anyway?" he started, the tone of his voice the result of a man trying too hard to seem like everything was fine, falling into the ease of smaller talk, "Been busy?"
If anything was to put him off about this man and his penchant for wandering about with the princess, it was the fact that Basilides was very clearly drunk. Drunker than could be considered proper in the higher levels of society. Drunker than what should have usually been allowed for a princess to be seen associating with. For some reason, Krysto thought it best to keep the people who had proven to be close to the royal family close rather than apart.
So the captain of the Kingsguard decided to go out on a limb for the other man.
"I kind of gathered," Krysto offered lightly, pulling one of the stools away from the bar so that he could sit beside Basilides. He made a bit of a face and rejected the offer to share some of the man's wine. "I'll pass-" he cut himself off when the man seemed to spill his wine all over the floor. His brows furrowed and he pulled his hands further into his lap. "Do you need something to cle- oh, no. You don't. Okay," he said with an expression that was more questioning himself about this attempt to make nice than anything.
"No, no. You're... fine. I think... you're going to be mighty hungover tomorrow but..." Krysto shrugged, clearing his throat and shooting a look at the bartender to say he could handle it from here on. "I see you with Princess Xene a lot. Are you sure that... all of this," he motioned to Basilides in his entirety, "is what you should look like when out in public without her? I don't know what you're looking to gain from the connection, but your look has an impact on hers and the Leventi's... because they hired you before," the man explained carefully.
He appreciated the question about how the man was doing himself, but he wasn't sure that he really wanted to answer that. How he was feeling was really none of Basilides' concern, but Basilides' clear lapse in judgment was an important thing to address. "I am now the captain of the Kingsguard... so yes. Busy. How about... we put the cup down, alright? Find you some water? Something to eat? Not more of the same?" Krysto was being sweet. He would even offer to pay if that's what it took to drag Basilides from the bar.
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If anything was to put him off about this man and his penchant for wandering about with the princess, it was the fact that Basilides was very clearly drunk. Drunker than could be considered proper in the higher levels of society. Drunker than what should have usually been allowed for a princess to be seen associating with. For some reason, Krysto thought it best to keep the people who had proven to be close to the royal family close rather than apart.
So the captain of the Kingsguard decided to go out on a limb for the other man.
"I kind of gathered," Krysto offered lightly, pulling one of the stools away from the bar so that he could sit beside Basilides. He made a bit of a face and rejected the offer to share some of the man's wine. "I'll pass-" he cut himself off when the man seemed to spill his wine all over the floor. His brows furrowed and he pulled his hands further into his lap. "Do you need something to cle- oh, no. You don't. Okay," he said with an expression that was more questioning himself about this attempt to make nice than anything.
"No, no. You're... fine. I think... you're going to be mighty hungover tomorrow but..." Krysto shrugged, clearing his throat and shooting a look at the bartender to say he could handle it from here on. "I see you with Princess Xene a lot. Are you sure that... all of this," he motioned to Basilides in his entirety, "is what you should look like when out in public without her? I don't know what you're looking to gain from the connection, but your look has an impact on hers and the Leventi's... because they hired you before," the man explained carefully.
He appreciated the question about how the man was doing himself, but he wasn't sure that he really wanted to answer that. How he was feeling was really none of Basilides' concern, but Basilides' clear lapse in judgment was an important thing to address. "I am now the captain of the Kingsguard... so yes. Busy. How about... we put the cup down, alright? Find you some water? Something to eat? Not more of the same?" Krysto was being sweet. He would even offer to pay if that's what it took to drag Basilides from the bar.
If anything was to put him off about this man and his penchant for wandering about with the princess, it was the fact that Basilides was very clearly drunk. Drunker than could be considered proper in the higher levels of society. Drunker than what should have usually been allowed for a princess to be seen associating with. For some reason, Krysto thought it best to keep the people who had proven to be close to the royal family close rather than apart.
So the captain of the Kingsguard decided to go out on a limb for the other man.
"I kind of gathered," Krysto offered lightly, pulling one of the stools away from the bar so that he could sit beside Basilides. He made a bit of a face and rejected the offer to share some of the man's wine. "I'll pass-" he cut himself off when the man seemed to spill his wine all over the floor. His brows furrowed and he pulled his hands further into his lap. "Do you need something to cle- oh, no. You don't. Okay," he said with an expression that was more questioning himself about this attempt to make nice than anything.
"No, no. You're... fine. I think... you're going to be mighty hungover tomorrow but..." Krysto shrugged, clearing his throat and shooting a look at the bartender to say he could handle it from here on. "I see you with Princess Xene a lot. Are you sure that... all of this," he motioned to Basilides in his entirety, "is what you should look like when out in public without her? I don't know what you're looking to gain from the connection, but your look has an impact on hers and the Leventi's... because they hired you before," the man explained carefully.
He appreciated the question about how the man was doing himself, but he wasn't sure that he really wanted to answer that. How he was feeling was really none of Basilides' concern, but Basilides' clear lapse in judgment was an important thing to address. "I am now the captain of the Kingsguard... so yes. Busy. How about... we put the cup down, alright? Find you some water? Something to eat? Not more of the same?" Krysto was being sweet. He would even offer to pay if that's what it took to drag Basilides from the bar.
Basilides missed most of the guardsman's attempts to recover from the near catastrophic spill, but he still offered an apologetic tilt of his head and a slight gesture with the cup of wine as if to say, 'whew, close one.'
While not having been a Player while a part of the troupe, part of his life had been putting on a mask of his own. It had come in handy since being a part of the Merchant's Guild and among the nobles. Even though he was well within his cups, he did his best to play it off as not being so far gone. Had this been one or two glasses ago, he could have made it somewhat believable, but as it was - his glassy, half-lidded eyes betrayed him, as did the slight wobble that came with him adjusting how he stood.
"Ah, you're probably right about that," Bas offered along with a grin, as if the man were offering a friendly tease instead of a blatant fact. To be fair, it was instinct to turn to some sort of trivial jesting to lighten issues and deflect them from being directly in front of him. Basilides half expected him to go along with the tease and he started to lift the metal cup to his lips, but it paused as the other man's words landed with sobering gravity. For a moment, the cup hung just inches from his mouth as Bas looked at the man from beneath flattened brows. Once his finished, he took a sharp, quick sip, swallowing with a slight hiss as he far-more-cautiously let the cup rest on the bartop with a heavy clank.
Basilides felt offended. If he were in the right mind to examine why this was his first reaction, he would have realized it was because the man next to him was absolutely right. In certain respects. Yes, he was a wreck currently - a cart without a horse hurtling down a hill with no clear destination. He was hurting from a loss that, for that exact same placement of social presence the man mentioned, he could not mention or air. Everyone lost a friend at some point in there life, but to lose a lover...that was something else entirely.
Where the man was wrong, or so Basilides thought and chose to cling to to keep himself from being the one in the wrong, was that he was aiming to gain something from his connection to her in all of this. Of course there was plenty to be gained by being a companion to the Princess, but was that his entire goal? Ah, the man across from him had no way of knowing. Taking that initial offense, Basilides let a huff of a laugh and a smirk come from his nose as he stared at his hand on the wine cup as he spoke.
"Likely not," Basilides started off slowly, his voice low as he chose his words carefully, to speak his thought without giving the man the gratification of adding the word 'belligerent' in front of the word 'drunk' later on. The burning frustration sizzled at the bottom of his throat as his initial words seemed to concede to the man's point, yet his hand did not move from the cup of wine.
With his elbows and one forearm resting and supporting his weight against the bar, his hand loosely cupped over the wine almost hovering over it. Glancing sidelong at the man, Bas pulled a bit of a face as he grumbled a moment, "It was not as if I was expecting to see anyone who knew of those connections out tonight..."
Looking back to his hand over the glass, then taking a deep breath that only added to the dizzy sensation behind his eyes, Bas puffed the breath out between loose lips a moment. His glance went sidelong to the man again as he made his suggestions to step away from the cup for the night.
Basilides did not like being patronized, and the slight narrowing of his eyes led to a colder expression than was intended. However, he glanced down to the cup before him again and with a slightly flourished splay of his hand, he lifted them from the rim of the cup. It was a long moment before Basilides stood, one hand still pressed to the bar to keep him from flying off the edge of the spinning room. He ran his other hand across his forehead and brows a moment before nodding.
"Alright," he grumbled again, taking another steadying breath to reach for the pouch of coin hidden away and rifled through for a few to cover the tab. His mind did the calculations quickly - one of the few things he could still manage no matter his level of sobriety - and letting them clatter on the wood.
The wind had been taken out of his sails significantly and as such, he began to feel the lateness of the evening. Still, he was not above feeling frustrated, like a scolded child. Begrudgingly, he gestured towards the man. "Lead the way, Captain."
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Basilides missed most of the guardsman's attempts to recover from the near catastrophic spill, but he still offered an apologetic tilt of his head and a slight gesture with the cup of wine as if to say, 'whew, close one.'
While not having been a Player while a part of the troupe, part of his life had been putting on a mask of his own. It had come in handy since being a part of the Merchant's Guild and among the nobles. Even though he was well within his cups, he did his best to play it off as not being so far gone. Had this been one or two glasses ago, he could have made it somewhat believable, but as it was - his glassy, half-lidded eyes betrayed him, as did the slight wobble that came with him adjusting how he stood.
"Ah, you're probably right about that," Bas offered along with a grin, as if the man were offering a friendly tease instead of a blatant fact. To be fair, it was instinct to turn to some sort of trivial jesting to lighten issues and deflect them from being directly in front of him. Basilides half expected him to go along with the tease and he started to lift the metal cup to his lips, but it paused as the other man's words landed with sobering gravity. For a moment, the cup hung just inches from his mouth as Bas looked at the man from beneath flattened brows. Once his finished, he took a sharp, quick sip, swallowing with a slight hiss as he far-more-cautiously let the cup rest on the bartop with a heavy clank.
Basilides felt offended. If he were in the right mind to examine why this was his first reaction, he would have realized it was because the man next to him was absolutely right. In certain respects. Yes, he was a wreck currently - a cart without a horse hurtling down a hill with no clear destination. He was hurting from a loss that, for that exact same placement of social presence the man mentioned, he could not mention or air. Everyone lost a friend at some point in there life, but to lose a lover...that was something else entirely.
Where the man was wrong, or so Basilides thought and chose to cling to to keep himself from being the one in the wrong, was that he was aiming to gain something from his connection to her in all of this. Of course there was plenty to be gained by being a companion to the Princess, but was that his entire goal? Ah, the man across from him had no way of knowing. Taking that initial offense, Basilides let a huff of a laugh and a smirk come from his nose as he stared at his hand on the wine cup as he spoke.
"Likely not," Basilides started off slowly, his voice low as he chose his words carefully, to speak his thought without giving the man the gratification of adding the word 'belligerent' in front of the word 'drunk' later on. The burning frustration sizzled at the bottom of his throat as his initial words seemed to concede to the man's point, yet his hand did not move from the cup of wine.
With his elbows and one forearm resting and supporting his weight against the bar, his hand loosely cupped over the wine almost hovering over it. Glancing sidelong at the man, Bas pulled a bit of a face as he grumbled a moment, "It was not as if I was expecting to see anyone who knew of those connections out tonight..."
Looking back to his hand over the glass, then taking a deep breath that only added to the dizzy sensation behind his eyes, Bas puffed the breath out between loose lips a moment. His glance went sidelong to the man again as he made his suggestions to step away from the cup for the night.
Basilides did not like being patronized, and the slight narrowing of his eyes led to a colder expression than was intended. However, he glanced down to the cup before him again and with a slightly flourished splay of his hand, he lifted them from the rim of the cup. It was a long moment before Basilides stood, one hand still pressed to the bar to keep him from flying off the edge of the spinning room. He ran his other hand across his forehead and brows a moment before nodding.
"Alright," he grumbled again, taking another steadying breath to reach for the pouch of coin hidden away and rifled through for a few to cover the tab. His mind did the calculations quickly - one of the few things he could still manage no matter his level of sobriety - and letting them clatter on the wood.
The wind had been taken out of his sails significantly and as such, he began to feel the lateness of the evening. Still, he was not above feeling frustrated, like a scolded child. Begrudgingly, he gestured towards the man. "Lead the way, Captain."
Basilides missed most of the guardsman's attempts to recover from the near catastrophic spill, but he still offered an apologetic tilt of his head and a slight gesture with the cup of wine as if to say, 'whew, close one.'
While not having been a Player while a part of the troupe, part of his life had been putting on a mask of his own. It had come in handy since being a part of the Merchant's Guild and among the nobles. Even though he was well within his cups, he did his best to play it off as not being so far gone. Had this been one or two glasses ago, he could have made it somewhat believable, but as it was - his glassy, half-lidded eyes betrayed him, as did the slight wobble that came with him adjusting how he stood.
"Ah, you're probably right about that," Bas offered along with a grin, as if the man were offering a friendly tease instead of a blatant fact. To be fair, it was instinct to turn to some sort of trivial jesting to lighten issues and deflect them from being directly in front of him. Basilides half expected him to go along with the tease and he started to lift the metal cup to his lips, but it paused as the other man's words landed with sobering gravity. For a moment, the cup hung just inches from his mouth as Bas looked at the man from beneath flattened brows. Once his finished, he took a sharp, quick sip, swallowing with a slight hiss as he far-more-cautiously let the cup rest on the bartop with a heavy clank.
Basilides felt offended. If he were in the right mind to examine why this was his first reaction, he would have realized it was because the man next to him was absolutely right. In certain respects. Yes, he was a wreck currently - a cart without a horse hurtling down a hill with no clear destination. He was hurting from a loss that, for that exact same placement of social presence the man mentioned, he could not mention or air. Everyone lost a friend at some point in there life, but to lose a lover...that was something else entirely.
Where the man was wrong, or so Basilides thought and chose to cling to to keep himself from being the one in the wrong, was that he was aiming to gain something from his connection to her in all of this. Of course there was plenty to be gained by being a companion to the Princess, but was that his entire goal? Ah, the man across from him had no way of knowing. Taking that initial offense, Basilides let a huff of a laugh and a smirk come from his nose as he stared at his hand on the wine cup as he spoke.
"Likely not," Basilides started off slowly, his voice low as he chose his words carefully, to speak his thought without giving the man the gratification of adding the word 'belligerent' in front of the word 'drunk' later on. The burning frustration sizzled at the bottom of his throat as his initial words seemed to concede to the man's point, yet his hand did not move from the cup of wine.
With his elbows and one forearm resting and supporting his weight against the bar, his hand loosely cupped over the wine almost hovering over it. Glancing sidelong at the man, Bas pulled a bit of a face as he grumbled a moment, "It was not as if I was expecting to see anyone who knew of those connections out tonight..."
Looking back to his hand over the glass, then taking a deep breath that only added to the dizzy sensation behind his eyes, Bas puffed the breath out between loose lips a moment. His glance went sidelong to the man again as he made his suggestions to step away from the cup for the night.
Basilides did not like being patronized, and the slight narrowing of his eyes led to a colder expression than was intended. However, he glanced down to the cup before him again and with a slightly flourished splay of his hand, he lifted them from the rim of the cup. It was a long moment before Basilides stood, one hand still pressed to the bar to keep him from flying off the edge of the spinning room. He ran his other hand across his forehead and brows a moment before nodding.
"Alright," he grumbled again, taking another steadying breath to reach for the pouch of coin hidden away and rifled through for a few to cover the tab. His mind did the calculations quickly - one of the few things he could still manage no matter his level of sobriety - and letting them clatter on the wood.
The wind had been taken out of his sails significantly and as such, he began to feel the lateness of the evening. Still, he was not above feeling frustrated, like a scolded child. Begrudgingly, he gestured towards the man. "Lead the way, Captain."
Krysto didn't really give much of a damn about how Basilides felt about anything. That honestly wasn't his way and he wasn't close enough to the man to feel anything but quiet concern and slight annoyance for the people that were connected to Basilides. The king, the queen, the princess, much of the Leventi family. To see him out like this in public when Basilides of Acaris was very much known in Taengean circles as well as court was not a mark in the man's favor. It Krysto did one thing well in his entire life, it was help those he cared about and those that they were connected to keep a proprietous image.
And that meant leading Basilides out of the bar before he did something stupid enough that would mean him being hauled to the city flaki. That would not make anyone happy, least of all the King and Princess Xene, and that was all he truly thought about as he observed Bas with a keen, logical eye. He was prepared, in all instances, to use a show of force, for the merchant seemed inclined to show his irritation on his features and in the way that he spoke.
Another thing that Krysto did not care about. Nor could he not protect himself from a drunk such as Basilides who had no military training to speak of or real and true power behind him. The comment that Basilides threw out about not expecting to see people who knew of his connections to the princess made Krysto snort. His only reply came in a rather dry tone, "If I know about it, Basilides, you can expect that far more know than you realize. You've been seen with many members of the court and the princess, so it isn't hard to pick you out of a crowd, nor is it hard for you to find yourself the topic of gossip that neither you, nor the royal family require right now," the soldier noted, making yet another motion toward the door and away from this poison that had become alcohol. At least for Basilides.
Krysto would not turn his back on someone who could turn on him, so when Bas motioned toward the door and told him to lead the way, Krysto motioned right back, "Actually, how about you lead the way, merchant," the man said in a voice that left no room for argument nor questioning. The tone he often used with his own men when his orders weren't optional and were expected to be acted upon in a single instant. "I have better things to do tonight than deal with drunken courtiers," Krysto said with an equally dry smile. "Out you go."
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Krysto didn't really give much of a damn about how Basilides felt about anything. That honestly wasn't his way and he wasn't close enough to the man to feel anything but quiet concern and slight annoyance for the people that were connected to Basilides. The king, the queen, the princess, much of the Leventi family. To see him out like this in public when Basilides of Acaris was very much known in Taengean circles as well as court was not a mark in the man's favor. It Krysto did one thing well in his entire life, it was help those he cared about and those that they were connected to keep a proprietous image.
And that meant leading Basilides out of the bar before he did something stupid enough that would mean him being hauled to the city flaki. That would not make anyone happy, least of all the King and Princess Xene, and that was all he truly thought about as he observed Bas with a keen, logical eye. He was prepared, in all instances, to use a show of force, for the merchant seemed inclined to show his irritation on his features and in the way that he spoke.
Another thing that Krysto did not care about. Nor could he not protect himself from a drunk such as Basilides who had no military training to speak of or real and true power behind him. The comment that Basilides threw out about not expecting to see people who knew of his connections to the princess made Krysto snort. His only reply came in a rather dry tone, "If I know about it, Basilides, you can expect that far more know than you realize. You've been seen with many members of the court and the princess, so it isn't hard to pick you out of a crowd, nor is it hard for you to find yourself the topic of gossip that neither you, nor the royal family require right now," the soldier noted, making yet another motion toward the door and away from this poison that had become alcohol. At least for Basilides.
Krysto would not turn his back on someone who could turn on him, so when Bas motioned toward the door and told him to lead the way, Krysto motioned right back, "Actually, how about you lead the way, merchant," the man said in a voice that left no room for argument nor questioning. The tone he often used with his own men when his orders weren't optional and were expected to be acted upon in a single instant. "I have better things to do tonight than deal with drunken courtiers," Krysto said with an equally dry smile. "Out you go."
Krysto didn't really give much of a damn about how Basilides felt about anything. That honestly wasn't his way and he wasn't close enough to the man to feel anything but quiet concern and slight annoyance for the people that were connected to Basilides. The king, the queen, the princess, much of the Leventi family. To see him out like this in public when Basilides of Acaris was very much known in Taengean circles as well as court was not a mark in the man's favor. It Krysto did one thing well in his entire life, it was help those he cared about and those that they were connected to keep a proprietous image.
And that meant leading Basilides out of the bar before he did something stupid enough that would mean him being hauled to the city flaki. That would not make anyone happy, least of all the King and Princess Xene, and that was all he truly thought about as he observed Bas with a keen, logical eye. He was prepared, in all instances, to use a show of force, for the merchant seemed inclined to show his irritation on his features and in the way that he spoke.
Another thing that Krysto did not care about. Nor could he not protect himself from a drunk such as Basilides who had no military training to speak of or real and true power behind him. The comment that Basilides threw out about not expecting to see people who knew of his connections to the princess made Krysto snort. His only reply came in a rather dry tone, "If I know about it, Basilides, you can expect that far more know than you realize. You've been seen with many members of the court and the princess, so it isn't hard to pick you out of a crowd, nor is it hard for you to find yourself the topic of gossip that neither you, nor the royal family require right now," the soldier noted, making yet another motion toward the door and away from this poison that had become alcohol. At least for Basilides.
Krysto would not turn his back on someone who could turn on him, so when Bas motioned toward the door and told him to lead the way, Krysto motioned right back, "Actually, how about you lead the way, merchant," the man said in a voice that left no room for argument nor questioning. The tone he often used with his own men when his orders weren't optional and were expected to be acted upon in a single instant. "I have better things to do tonight than deal with drunken courtiers," Krysto said with an equally dry smile. "Out you go."
The irritation carved onto his features deepened, his brows going from flat and level to furrowed downward. The merchant did not know this man from a hole in the wall, but did on good faith take him for the militant he said he was - after all, even the best con-man or pickpocket knew better than to piss off his target.
Basilides could not, in that moment, see how helpful the Captain was in his assistance here. In fact, it might have been considered somewhat of a start to a friendship or camaraderie of sorts. Beyond that even, the man was quite attractive at that, and for the briefest moment, his eyes raked the man's body up and down once. Unfortunately, the merchant's purposeful inebriation and his frustration at the proper scolding he was getting as a full grown man kept that thought from living on the forefront too long. A sharper scowl formed on his expression, upper lip curling as the man once again gestured towards the door, as if Bas had not caught on the first time.
The lack of inhibition kept him from stilling his tongue.
"I might point out that you've managed to find yourself here to this very establishment, Kingsguard," he started as they walked, his hand sharply gesturing at the man before throwing them both up lightly as if to add, 'but that is none of my business, apparently' as he rolled his eyes and marched begrudgingly to the door.
In true fashion, his retort bore his usual dry tone, yet it was peppered with an flash of color in true, petty, and bordering childish snipe throughout.
With a puff of frustrated air, Basilides thought that was the last of it and made his gesture towards the door.
Krysto's mirrored response, gesture, and godsdamned order flared a fire in Basilides that he, himself, was not familiar with. An incredulous scoff escaped him at the idea of being fucking ordered around by a man he hardly knew without the gratification of knowing it would lead to anything even remotely pleasurable afterwards.
When he looked back on this moment, he would see dozens of ways he could have handled it differently. Namely, he could have thanked the man for his care and consideration for his fledgling courtier status and gone on his way. He could have just listened to the man, not said a thing, and marched on home in order to sleep off the wine. But, now, with this new development of being bossed around like a child, Basilides caught himself wondering who the hell this guy thought he was, bossing him around.
Already riled in the most simplistic and primal way of being denied something he wanted - in this case to drink in peace and go about his way unbothered - his mood was soured irreparably and showed in every inch of his form.
"Then, why don't you go about doing whatever that may be then? Be my guest," Bas sniped, his tone more aggressive than it had ever been in recent memory. His hand gave a sharp, dismissive, and mocking wave to mirror the militant's as he did so, shooting the man a look up and down. He tried playing nice, letting the man lead him out, but in that moment, he could not stand that dry tone and that fucking smirk.
Moving as if to follow the order and walk towards the door, he took a step very much within the Kingsguard's personal space, his feet stilling a moment before looking him up and down once again, this time slowly and purposefully so the man knew it. Then in a lower tone, almost velveteen though still laced with spite, he asked, "D'you get this bossy in bed, too? Might not mind it then..."
Scoffing through his nose, Bas started to turn towards the door. The sooner he got this man off his case, the better, as far as he was concerned.
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The irritation carved onto his features deepened, his brows going from flat and level to furrowed downward. The merchant did not know this man from a hole in the wall, but did on good faith take him for the militant he said he was - after all, even the best con-man or pickpocket knew better than to piss off his target.
Basilides could not, in that moment, see how helpful the Captain was in his assistance here. In fact, it might have been considered somewhat of a start to a friendship or camaraderie of sorts. Beyond that even, the man was quite attractive at that, and for the briefest moment, his eyes raked the man's body up and down once. Unfortunately, the merchant's purposeful inebriation and his frustration at the proper scolding he was getting as a full grown man kept that thought from living on the forefront too long. A sharper scowl formed on his expression, upper lip curling as the man once again gestured towards the door, as if Bas had not caught on the first time.
The lack of inhibition kept him from stilling his tongue.
"I might point out that you've managed to find yourself here to this very establishment, Kingsguard," he started as they walked, his hand sharply gesturing at the man before throwing them both up lightly as if to add, 'but that is none of my business, apparently' as he rolled his eyes and marched begrudgingly to the door.
In true fashion, his retort bore his usual dry tone, yet it was peppered with an flash of color in true, petty, and bordering childish snipe throughout.
With a puff of frustrated air, Basilides thought that was the last of it and made his gesture towards the door.
Krysto's mirrored response, gesture, and godsdamned order flared a fire in Basilides that he, himself, was not familiar with. An incredulous scoff escaped him at the idea of being fucking ordered around by a man he hardly knew without the gratification of knowing it would lead to anything even remotely pleasurable afterwards.
When he looked back on this moment, he would see dozens of ways he could have handled it differently. Namely, he could have thanked the man for his care and consideration for his fledgling courtier status and gone on his way. He could have just listened to the man, not said a thing, and marched on home in order to sleep off the wine. But, now, with this new development of being bossed around like a child, Basilides caught himself wondering who the hell this guy thought he was, bossing him around.
Already riled in the most simplistic and primal way of being denied something he wanted - in this case to drink in peace and go about his way unbothered - his mood was soured irreparably and showed in every inch of his form.
"Then, why don't you go about doing whatever that may be then? Be my guest," Bas sniped, his tone more aggressive than it had ever been in recent memory. His hand gave a sharp, dismissive, and mocking wave to mirror the militant's as he did so, shooting the man a look up and down. He tried playing nice, letting the man lead him out, but in that moment, he could not stand that dry tone and that fucking smirk.
Moving as if to follow the order and walk towards the door, he took a step very much within the Kingsguard's personal space, his feet stilling a moment before looking him up and down once again, this time slowly and purposefully so the man knew it. Then in a lower tone, almost velveteen though still laced with spite, he asked, "D'you get this bossy in bed, too? Might not mind it then..."
Scoffing through his nose, Bas started to turn towards the door. The sooner he got this man off his case, the better, as far as he was concerned.
The irritation carved onto his features deepened, his brows going from flat and level to furrowed downward. The merchant did not know this man from a hole in the wall, but did on good faith take him for the militant he said he was - after all, even the best con-man or pickpocket knew better than to piss off his target.
Basilides could not, in that moment, see how helpful the Captain was in his assistance here. In fact, it might have been considered somewhat of a start to a friendship or camaraderie of sorts. Beyond that even, the man was quite attractive at that, and for the briefest moment, his eyes raked the man's body up and down once. Unfortunately, the merchant's purposeful inebriation and his frustration at the proper scolding he was getting as a full grown man kept that thought from living on the forefront too long. A sharper scowl formed on his expression, upper lip curling as the man once again gestured towards the door, as if Bas had not caught on the first time.
The lack of inhibition kept him from stilling his tongue.
"I might point out that you've managed to find yourself here to this very establishment, Kingsguard," he started as they walked, his hand sharply gesturing at the man before throwing them both up lightly as if to add, 'but that is none of my business, apparently' as he rolled his eyes and marched begrudgingly to the door.
In true fashion, his retort bore his usual dry tone, yet it was peppered with an flash of color in true, petty, and bordering childish snipe throughout.
With a puff of frustrated air, Basilides thought that was the last of it and made his gesture towards the door.
Krysto's mirrored response, gesture, and godsdamned order flared a fire in Basilides that he, himself, was not familiar with. An incredulous scoff escaped him at the idea of being fucking ordered around by a man he hardly knew without the gratification of knowing it would lead to anything even remotely pleasurable afterwards.
When he looked back on this moment, he would see dozens of ways he could have handled it differently. Namely, he could have thanked the man for his care and consideration for his fledgling courtier status and gone on his way. He could have just listened to the man, not said a thing, and marched on home in order to sleep off the wine. But, now, with this new development of being bossed around like a child, Basilides caught himself wondering who the hell this guy thought he was, bossing him around.
Already riled in the most simplistic and primal way of being denied something he wanted - in this case to drink in peace and go about his way unbothered - his mood was soured irreparably and showed in every inch of his form.
"Then, why don't you go about doing whatever that may be then? Be my guest," Bas sniped, his tone more aggressive than it had ever been in recent memory. His hand gave a sharp, dismissive, and mocking wave to mirror the militant's as he did so, shooting the man a look up and down. He tried playing nice, letting the man lead him out, but in that moment, he could not stand that dry tone and that fucking smirk.
Moving as if to follow the order and walk towards the door, he took a step very much within the Kingsguard's personal space, his feet stilling a moment before looking him up and down once again, this time slowly and purposefully so the man knew it. Then in a lower tone, almost velveteen though still laced with spite, he asked, "D'you get this bossy in bed, too? Might not mind it then..."
Scoffing through his nose, Bas started to turn towards the door. The sooner he got this man off his case, the better, as far as he was concerned.
Krysto was an incredibly patient, incredibly disciplined man. It was very rare that the Captain ever let his frustration get the best of him, but with the war beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders, he was less inclined to deal with someone else's shitty temper. And that was exactly what this was with Basilides of Acaris. What had started as a gentle prodding to not let himself be seen so out of sorts in public, knowing that the man spent a lengthy period of time with Princess Xene on a general schedule, Krysto was less inclined to let the man embarrass himself. It was the noble heart in him that just wanted to see Basilides succeed in whatever it was he was after with the Princess. Friendship? Station? He didn't know, but his genuinely good nature in that moment was being walked over with each word out of Basilides' mouth.
Keeping his temper as cool as ice, the man did not roll his eyes to the ceiling or really rise to the jab that Basilides threw at him about having come to the tavern for a drink. Instead, he simply gave a slight shake of his head. "I am a man about to go to war," was his only assertion to him being able to enjoy a drink on his own before he went home to Eurydice and his unborn child. After a long day of looking over guard rotations, interviewing the men that would be guarding Queen Theodora, and making adjustments as needed, he had been here to seek out the few quiet moments with his own mind where he could leave his work behind him before he fell into the arms of his betrothed.
Every man deserved those few moments of peace and quiet, but Krysto hadn't been able to help himself when he had spotted Basilides here, getting drunker and drunker by the minute with each bottle of wine sent his way.
Leading the man toward the doorhe also ignored the petty motioning back at Krysto himself and the very blatant look up and down his body. This was also something that Basilides did not need to advertise to the world if he was going to be in the company of royalty on a consistent basis. He ignored it the first time and he tried to ignore it the second time until Basilides was stepping closer to him, whispering words that tugged at the silent irritation that was holding his shoulders hostage. Krysto understood that people said things they would regret when they were drunk, but as far as Krysto was concerned, Basilides' lips were far too loose in this regard. Breathing deeply through his nose as the only signal that Basilides was getting under his skin, the man's hand suddenly lifted to Basilides' head, grabbing hold of his throat and looking him right in the eye.
It was almost appeared as if Krysto was going to kiss him and the entire tavern stopped to watch, having only been vaguely aware of the Kingsguard and the merchant having it out in a quiet battle of wills. But then Krysto was simply walking Basilides backwards, one step at a time until they were passing through the doorway and onto the streets beyond. A few of the nosier patrons got up to stand at Krysto's back and watch what was going on. With all the force and irritation in his body, Krysto suddenly launched Basilides backwards and away from the threshold of the tavern, aiming to throw him off balance and onto his back in the middle of the Taengean streets.
For a moment, Krysto remembered sitting on his hands and knees scrubbing these same stones after drunks made a mess of them in the night. Krysto pitied the young order members who might have to clean up both vomit and blood from the stones if Basilides chose to open his mouth again.
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Krysto was an incredibly patient, incredibly disciplined man. It was very rare that the Captain ever let his frustration get the best of him, but with the war beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders, he was less inclined to deal with someone else's shitty temper. And that was exactly what this was with Basilides of Acaris. What had started as a gentle prodding to not let himself be seen so out of sorts in public, knowing that the man spent a lengthy period of time with Princess Xene on a general schedule, Krysto was less inclined to let the man embarrass himself. It was the noble heart in him that just wanted to see Basilides succeed in whatever it was he was after with the Princess. Friendship? Station? He didn't know, but his genuinely good nature in that moment was being walked over with each word out of Basilides' mouth.
Keeping his temper as cool as ice, the man did not roll his eyes to the ceiling or really rise to the jab that Basilides threw at him about having come to the tavern for a drink. Instead, he simply gave a slight shake of his head. "I am a man about to go to war," was his only assertion to him being able to enjoy a drink on his own before he went home to Eurydice and his unborn child. After a long day of looking over guard rotations, interviewing the men that would be guarding Queen Theodora, and making adjustments as needed, he had been here to seek out the few quiet moments with his own mind where he could leave his work behind him before he fell into the arms of his betrothed.
Every man deserved those few moments of peace and quiet, but Krysto hadn't been able to help himself when he had spotted Basilides here, getting drunker and drunker by the minute with each bottle of wine sent his way.
Leading the man toward the doorhe also ignored the petty motioning back at Krysto himself and the very blatant look up and down his body. This was also something that Basilides did not need to advertise to the world if he was going to be in the company of royalty on a consistent basis. He ignored it the first time and he tried to ignore it the second time until Basilides was stepping closer to him, whispering words that tugged at the silent irritation that was holding his shoulders hostage. Krysto understood that people said things they would regret when they were drunk, but as far as Krysto was concerned, Basilides' lips were far too loose in this regard. Breathing deeply through his nose as the only signal that Basilides was getting under his skin, the man's hand suddenly lifted to Basilides' head, grabbing hold of his throat and looking him right in the eye.
It was almost appeared as if Krysto was going to kiss him and the entire tavern stopped to watch, having only been vaguely aware of the Kingsguard and the merchant having it out in a quiet battle of wills. But then Krysto was simply walking Basilides backwards, one step at a time until they were passing through the doorway and onto the streets beyond. A few of the nosier patrons got up to stand at Krysto's back and watch what was going on. With all the force and irritation in his body, Krysto suddenly launched Basilides backwards and away from the threshold of the tavern, aiming to throw him off balance and onto his back in the middle of the Taengean streets.
For a moment, Krysto remembered sitting on his hands and knees scrubbing these same stones after drunks made a mess of them in the night. Krysto pitied the young order members who might have to clean up both vomit and blood from the stones if Basilides chose to open his mouth again.
Krysto was an incredibly patient, incredibly disciplined man. It was very rare that the Captain ever let his frustration get the best of him, but with the war beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders, he was less inclined to deal with someone else's shitty temper. And that was exactly what this was with Basilides of Acaris. What had started as a gentle prodding to not let himself be seen so out of sorts in public, knowing that the man spent a lengthy period of time with Princess Xene on a general schedule, Krysto was less inclined to let the man embarrass himself. It was the noble heart in him that just wanted to see Basilides succeed in whatever it was he was after with the Princess. Friendship? Station? He didn't know, but his genuinely good nature in that moment was being walked over with each word out of Basilides' mouth.
Keeping his temper as cool as ice, the man did not roll his eyes to the ceiling or really rise to the jab that Basilides threw at him about having come to the tavern for a drink. Instead, he simply gave a slight shake of his head. "I am a man about to go to war," was his only assertion to him being able to enjoy a drink on his own before he went home to Eurydice and his unborn child. After a long day of looking over guard rotations, interviewing the men that would be guarding Queen Theodora, and making adjustments as needed, he had been here to seek out the few quiet moments with his own mind where he could leave his work behind him before he fell into the arms of his betrothed.
Every man deserved those few moments of peace and quiet, but Krysto hadn't been able to help himself when he had spotted Basilides here, getting drunker and drunker by the minute with each bottle of wine sent his way.
Leading the man toward the doorhe also ignored the petty motioning back at Krysto himself and the very blatant look up and down his body. This was also something that Basilides did not need to advertise to the world if he was going to be in the company of royalty on a consistent basis. He ignored it the first time and he tried to ignore it the second time until Basilides was stepping closer to him, whispering words that tugged at the silent irritation that was holding his shoulders hostage. Krysto understood that people said things they would regret when they were drunk, but as far as Krysto was concerned, Basilides' lips were far too loose in this regard. Breathing deeply through his nose as the only signal that Basilides was getting under his skin, the man's hand suddenly lifted to Basilides' head, grabbing hold of his throat and looking him right in the eye.
It was almost appeared as if Krysto was going to kiss him and the entire tavern stopped to watch, having only been vaguely aware of the Kingsguard and the merchant having it out in a quiet battle of wills. But then Krysto was simply walking Basilides backwards, one step at a time until they were passing through the doorway and onto the streets beyond. A few of the nosier patrons got up to stand at Krysto's back and watch what was going on. With all the force and irritation in his body, Krysto suddenly launched Basilides backwards and away from the threshold of the tavern, aiming to throw him off balance and onto his back in the middle of the Taengean streets.
For a moment, Krysto remembered sitting on his hands and knees scrubbing these same stones after drunks made a mess of them in the night. Krysto pitied the young order members who might have to clean up both vomit and blood from the stones if Basilides chose to open his mouth again.