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Caitrin appeared to be grateful to be offered his cloak. Griff simply smiled and replied that it was the least he could do, it was the gentlemanly thing to do and he was too hot with it on anyway. It was a lie, of course, but he would just ignore the cold if it meant she was keeping warm.

And then she was holding his hand. She was holding his hand. Through choice. Why was she holding his hand? There was no practical reason for her to be holding his hand and it made him feel rather suspicious. She must have an ulterior motive because, well, why else would she be holding his hand? When he was able to move on from the initial shock of what was going on, Griff was able to appreciate it and realised just how nice it was and how much he would like to continue. Caitrin’s hands were soft, and slightly cold. When she let go he felt slightly disappointed and his now empty hand was rather surplus.

They were both leaning on the fence he hadn’t actually realised was there. He realised he was staring at his young companion so quickly averted his gaze to his feet. Something was seriously wrong with him. This was not how he acted around women. He didn’t reply to her comment about the fence, mainly because his brain was repeatedly asking what the hell was wrong with him and if he tried to speak he’d just end up vocalising his thoughts. When he was finally going to speak without the feat of making a total idiot out of himself she was holding his hand again.

He laughed at her remark. It seemed like a good thing to do when his brain wasn’t behaving. “I’ll have you know it’s just my colour.” As he spoke he noticed her shiver, his instincts were to put an arm around her, hold her close and never let go. He didn’t follow them. Instead he just looked at her and tried to figure out what the hell he was doing, standing in the freezing cold (and without a cloak) all because of a woman. Yes, she was different. Yes, she hadn’t fallen for him in the space of five minutes so he was certainly confused and rather more determined that she would. But even so, this was new territory and he didn’t much care for it.

He should leave. He should just walk back into the hall, find the brunette woman – or someone else, it didn’t matter – and take them back to his small and disappointing rented inn room and not care about anything except himself. That’s what he should do, but it wasn’t what he wanted to do. Not that he was ever going to admit that if course. He was Griflet Aubert and he didn’t care about anyone and he did what he wanted, who he wanted, ignoring the consequences and having a laugh and just...not behaving as he was now. He needed to pull himself together.

Over the space of a couple of minutes he had quite made up his mind to do exactly that, and then found his feet reluctant to move. He looked ahead firmly. This was not happening. He was in control.

“Was it too warm in there for you as well?”

“No.” He replied bluntly. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, exhaled slowly, told himself that this was not who he was and opened his eyes again. “I was looking for you.”

...

Why the hell did he just say that?

It would be a fair thing to say that Griff was more than used to young women running at, and several young men, but Griff was usually running away that didn’t really count. What he wasn’t used to, however, was, after gallantly rescuing Caitrin from the perilous clutches of Smug Git for her to run away. Above all it was ungracious.

Several moments later he was still staring at the space she had once occupied. He wanted to run after her, to make sure she was alright, and, if necessary, or perhaps just because she might say yes, he would ask if the ‘nobleman’ needed to be punched. Hard. In the face. The more he tried to assess the situation the more he realised how little they knew about each other. He had no idea what had caused her to leave and trying to work it out would probably give him a headache. Similarly, he had no idea what to do about it. He was convinced that whatever action he took it would be wrong. If he stayed where he was and waited she would likely be angry at him for not making sure she was alright, but if he went after her she would likely be angry at him for not leaving her alone. It was quite the conundrum. Never in his life had he given this much thought to a woman he hadn’t seen naked at least twice.

In the end he decided to follow his instincts – they very rarely let him down, and when they did he often found someone else to blame – so he followed her path outside and hoped she hadn’t left altogether.

Stepping outside he shivered, despite having taken his cloak with him, the temperature had certainly dropped a fair few degrees. It was awfully quiet too, a whole world away from the festivities inside. And, to make things even easier, it was dark and he couldn’t really see anything. His eyes took their time adjusting to the new level of light. When they eventually did he could see her, standing alone, arms wrapped around her – presumably because of the cold. Rather instinctively he removed his cloak and approached her, holding it out in front of him. When he was stood next to her he offered a rather pathetic “It’s cold.” He shook the cloak slightly, “Take this.”

Griff felt rather pathetic, standing in the cold and waiting anxiously for Caitrin to either accept his offer or tell him to go away. Ever since he’d met Caitrin he began feeling like his life was less and less in his control, it was a feeling that wasn’t helped by his current situation. He shouldn’t be so anxious, he shouldn’t be trying to rectify things and he certainly shouldn’t giving up his own comfort and warmth for someone else. He was selfish by nature. This wasn’t right. But he continued anyway because there was no reason to stop.

To say Griff was unhappy with the current situation was gross understatement, and there should certainly be several expletives when describing Griff’s mindset at present. Not only was he doing all in power – which really wasn’t a lot – to mentally inflict any sort of pain on Smug Git (hopefully something that would result in mutilation, paralysation, or both.) He didn’t care that he was overreacting because there was an obstacle in his path so he was going to do something about it.

As his brother was so wont to point out, Griff had never been very good at controlling himself, but, as he had previously decided, this was no place to start a fight and so there was nothing Griff could do about the situation apart from try and distract himself. It was a surprisingly easy task, what with the presence of the brunette and her lip biting. There. He was having just as much fun, if not more, by dancing with someone else and not caring for one moment whether Smug Git was talking to Caitrin...why was he talking to her? What the hell was he doing? He was staring, he couldn’t help it, and it was ridiculous but he was going to continue because there was a part of him convinced that something worse would happen if he looked away.

Another mental slap. They weren’t helping. His brain was struggling to comprehend the situation. Here he was: young, good-looking, not as rich as he would like to be but still a noble, and more than an accomplished dancer with the ability to have any woman he wanted, and what was he doing with all his talent? He was staring at the back of Smug Git’s head and willing him to trip over and humiliate himself. Griff was not a malicious person by nature, he was far too busy flirting with any woman he could find, but he found himself hoping for Smug Git to at least break his leg and then for it to not heal properly so he lost the use of it for the rest of his life, and then no woman would want him – being a cripple – and he would live the rest of his days begging on the streets, constantly at the mercy of others and certainly, never, never ever dancing with Caitrin again.

It was a comforting thought and managed to make him feel slightly better about the situation, safe in the knowledge that in the not too distant future Smug Git would be hobbling about while Griff would be doing what he always did, and rather enjoying it too. But what he wouldn’t be was caring about any of this, because, and this was crucially important: Griff did not care about anything. Except himself, he cared himself a lot, but other than that, nothing.

Or at least that used to be the case. Now he found himself caring that Smug Git was dancing with Caitrin, and he found himself caring that he wasn’t, and he found himself caring even more now that she was in front of him, and her hands were at his waist, and she was smiling at him, and his brain forgot to tell him to breathe and he didn’t quite understand what she was talking about, so his eyebrows creased together.

“Oh yes, the dance.” He replied after a moment or two, when his brain was finally behaving itself and in one fluid movement she was picked up, turned her and set her down, and his hands remained on her for longer than necessary.

OOC – I’m really lazy, so I’m skipping to the dancing. Because it’s DANCING and BONDING.

While this was not the first time he had danced with a young woman it was probably the first time he had danced with a young woman and not noticed any other young women within a five mile radius. Or at least he wasn’t noticing them as much, which was practically the same thing. And he was being subtle about it, so really it didn’t count. He paused in thought, reflecting on what his brain was doing at the moment and became rather confused. It was utterly ridiculous that he was caring about whether or not Caitrin would notice him looking at other women. He was perfectly entitled to. And he definitely shouldn’t be trying to justify it to himself. It was all rather frustrating. Before he could dwell on it too much his thoughts were cut by the very person who was causing it all.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.” He replied simply because he was enjoying himself; despite not quite understanding what his brain was doing. It didn’t make any sort of sense, and he didn’t like it, but he was going to ignore it because at present dancing with Caitrin was much more important than exploring the inner depths of his psyche.

She disappeared again, finding a temporary partner to circle, as Griff was receiving the same treatment from a rather pretty brunette. When Caitrin returned he had time for a quick “And yourself?” after which he was left with the brunette once more. He gave her a wink and a grin before the dance dictated a change of moves and he found himself standing rather close to Caitrin, and somewhat enjoying it. With the slightly slower tempo Griff was able to continue his speech “You were so enthusiastic, after all.”

Griff noticed – as he had been noticing many things about the young woman in front of him – that when he told her how ‘enchanted’ he was her eyes widened, which he immediately took to be a compliment. “Well in that case I’m not going to tell you anything.” Griff replied, even if she was speaking in jest he was not going to take any chances. And anyway, he hadn’t been ‘enchanted’; it had just been something to say. All of his compliments had been so it didn’t matter. Quite frankly he didn’t care what she did to men she encountered. It was not an issue. At all. Well. He certainly wasn’t convincing himself, but that was only because he was a self proclaimed cad and his intentions towards Caitrin were entirely dishonourable. Right. That was settled then.

Griff would rather not get into the ins and outs with his relationship with his brother. It really was a tedious subject. Yes, he was on good terms, but that was probably only because they hadn’t been around each other long enough to remember how much they didn’t like each other. It probably helped that they both shared a mutual aversion towards their father, and both knew that they were the only real family either of them had left. He suppressed a sigh and an eye roll, he would really rather not end up in a long conversation about anyone in his family especially when said member happened to be a dashing and heroic knight. Well, a knight, at least. Still, decorum – that stupid bloody thing – dictated that he smile politely and reply as eloquently as he could. “Yes, I am, despite certain...fundamental differences.” He left it like that, not particularly wanting to divulge anything else. Lucan was a boring subject, especially as it took attention away from Griff.

He was unsure how to reply to the latter part of Rouland’s speech. He was sure there was some double meaning in that, what with the man’s glance at Caitrin. He decided upon flattery, it was his default reply after all. “Your wife is a lucky woman to have such a man as you for her husband. Is she in Camelot?” Griff didn’t care either way, but there was decorum again, irritating him once more.

Turning his attention back to Caitrin as she spoke, he was rather disappointed to find that the conversation was still on his brother. “My pleasure.” He replied courteously, hoping they could now all move on.

She was raising her eyebrows, and he was rather annoyed that he kept noticing these things, and then telling himself she was doing it. What on earth was he doing? Giving himself a mental slap in the face he firmly shouted at himself – mentally, of course – to focus and stop being so...so...indescribable for one thing, but mainly not himself. “Exactly, my lady.” He replied, “If there is one thing I pride myself on it is just that, considering that I have never had any complaints.” There. He was back to being his inappropriate self and all was righted.

Of course he danced! Events such as this were the perfect way to attract the attention of noble women, being able to dance was essential to his philandering, and something else he rather prided himself on. “There is a lot you don’t know about me.” He replied simply, waiting for her hand. It was small and warm and felt rather nice in his and he held onto it perhaps a little too firmly as he lead her to the middle of the room. This was their first dance together and he wanted to make a good impression. He had noticed over the conversation that she appeared to be warming up to him, which was a good start, but this dance would surely escalate matters.

Several other couples had made their way into the centre of the room, waiting for the point in the music where the dancing started. As it was a dance that involved a separation between the men and women at first he let go of Caitrin’s hand with some reluctance – though he tried not to show it, and joined the other men. It felt like an awfully long wait, stood in a line, looking at Caitrin and wondering why he couldn’t take his eyes away from her, and then his sightline dropped a few inches and everything made sense.

Caitrin’s answer certainly amused Griflet, and further cemented his liking of her. She had cocked her head, an action which resulted in – Griff noticed much to his own irritation – her hair flicking in the same direction. It was utterly ridiculous that he should be noticing the slightest movement of her hair, although at least he wasn’t staring at her lips again. “Then I shall give you both at our next meeting and you can decide. I confess that I am a master at neither skill, but my heart is stronger than my arm.” He took another sip of his drink before adding, “Especially when I am given such a muse.”

Griff inclined his head, accepting Rouland’s comment of his being a gentleman, or at least acting as one. Again, he would have returned the compliment but he was stopped by Caitrin voicing her own thoughts.

“And of course I am grateful to my Uncle. Have you not got your own horse yet?”

He didn’t even have Hector, let alone his own horse. He was still in Glouchedon, with his money – or what little was actually his and not his father’s – and all his best clothes, it was all very traumatic for him. The absence of a horse was certainly felt, a lot more than he had thought it would. There was a distinct lack of freedom without a horse, he could not simply take an afternoon ride or escape to pastures new – not that he particularly wanted to, what with his brother paying for most of his upkeep. “Alas I do not.” He replied simply, he would prefer not to mention too much on the subject, after all, the full truth about his leaving home had not been fully explained and he rather desired to keep it that way. It was a blunt answer, and perhaps sounded rude to Caitrin and Rouland, but there was not much to be said about the matter.

Luckily the topic of conversation was quickly changed. Griflet did not have any plans for the evening, except trying to stay in the company of Lady Caitrin, hopefully without Rouland present. That, however, was not nearly an impressive enough answer, and one that, once vocalised, would surely be thwarted by the young woman in front of him. Instead of answering her truthfully he shrugged and replied rather casually. “My plans are to enjoy myself. And make sure my brother isn’t so drunk he can’t find his bed.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Lucan, or at least where he was when they had departed. He could be anywhere by now. As a rule, Luc was the more sensible of the two, but alcohol was involved and Griff has no idea how his brother fared with its inclusion. Not that that really mattered at the moment, Griff was much too concerned with Caitrin than his brother’s sobriety, or lack of it. “And you? Do you have any plans? Other than teasing me, I mean.”

Caitrin was being civil, that could only be a good thing. Whilst they hadn’t parted as a result of argument, as he had assumed they would at the time, they hadn’t exactly parted as friends either. He would have picked up where they left off, but the presence of her uncle made that rather impossible. Griff was quite an accomplished cad and bounder, but he wasn’t that good he could seduce a woman right under her chaperone’s nose. But it was definitely something he should work towards...

Griff snapped himself out of those thoughts. They were neither here nor there and in no way helping the present situation. He inclined his head slightly in answer to her question, he would have nodded, but that would make him look far too eager, and that was never attractive in a man. He was acutely aware of Lord Rouland’s presence and was trying to make a good impression, while still working the charm with the man’s niece. It was no easy task but he would endeavour. “I’ve found my love for poetry.” He replied, “You have no idea how little rhymes with Caitrin.” He grinned; he was, of course, not being serious. But he had been thinking about her, a lot. That wasn’t to say that she was the only thing that occupied his mind, that would be absurd. And she wasn’t the only woman he’s thought about, but she had certainly been present in his thoughts. “Yourself? How has the riding been coming along?” He inquired, innocently enough, but with enough emphasis on ‘riding’ to warrant a suppressed smirk.

Griff was expecting a slap any second, but he was still kissing her and then it occurred to him that she was kissing him. He was smirking against her mouth and debating whether or not his arm should drop from against the tree to around her waist. He decided not, after all, he didn’t want to come on to strong after all. And anyway, why rush anything. Her hands were on his che-

His eyes flew open, the sudden shock of being pushed almost made him loose his footing. He stumbled back a few steps before finding his balance again. That wasn’t part of the plan. While he had been expecting a slap, and he probably deserved it, she had kissed him back so it was rather bad manners on her part to kiss him and then push him away. Almost instinctively he ran a hand through his hair, which was weird because he never did anything without planning it beforehand, but there he was. He didn’t like it.

"No, Griflet I can't."

Her voice was weak and small and unlike anything else she had said to him which had always been so confident, even if her body language had told Griff otherwise. He stared at her for a few moments, unsure of what to say, not noticing that her hands left his chest. Maybe he had been going too far too quickly, and he was shocked to find himself feeling guilty as a result.

Griff was still standing there, rather uselessly, staring at the tree where Caitrin had been standing. He didn’t know what to do and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He turned around quickly and advanced towards the horse. She wasn’t going to leave without him saying anything. As he approached she was already reaching the ropes that attached the horse to a tree, but he managed to take them first. “That was inappropriate, and I’m sorry. Please, don’t just leave.” He should have stopped there; the situation wouldn’t have been made any worse if he’d have stopped there. But he didn’t. “But you were flirting with me. And I did say I like you.” So clearly that made everything acceptable, that was the plan anyway.