Tyrion

           JanosSlyntwasabutcher’sson,andhelaughedlikeamanchoppingmeat."Morewine?"Tyrionaskedhim.

           "Ishouldnotobject,"LordJanossaid,holdingouthiscup.Hewasbuiltlikeakeg,andhadasimilarcapacity."Ishouldnotobjectatall.That’safinered.FromtheArbor?"

           "Dornish."Tyriongestured,andhisservingmanpoured.Butfortheservants,heandLordJanoswerealoneintheSmallHall,atasmallcandlelittablesurroundedbydarkness."Quitethefind.Dornishwinesarenotoftensorich."

           "Rich,"saidthebigfrog-facedman,takingahealthygulp.Hewasnotamanforsipping,JanosSlynt.Tyrionhadmadenoteofthatatonce."Yes,rich,that’stheverywordIwassearchingfor,theveryword.Youhaveagiftforwords,LordTyrion,ifImightsayso.Andyoutelladrolltale.Droll,yes."

           "I’mpleasedyouthinkso...butI’mnotalord,asyouare.AsimpleTyrionwillsufficeforme,LordJanos."

           "Asyouwish."Hetookanotherswallow,dribblingwineonthefrontofhisblacksatindoublet.Hewaswearingacloth-of-goldhalf-capefastenedwithaminiaturespear,itspointenameledindarkred.Andhewaswellandtrulydrunk.

           Tyrioncoveredhismouthandbelchedpolitely.UnlikeLordJanoshehadgoneeasyonthewine,buthewasveryfull.

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