<span style="color: #FFBF40"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">House of Delecroix</span><br/><span style="font-size: 130%; line-height: 116%;">Castle Devona</span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/16aaa03c-d70c-49d0-833d-aa82d7697d9f_zpsf037c19c.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Sir Abel M. Delecroix</span></span></div></span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBF40">"Ah, thank you Sir Damian. I am quite starved. I hope we didn't keep you waiting for long,"</span>Sir Abel said with a polite smile, offering Martine a seat before he took his own. She snorted at his gentlemanly behavior, but he ignored it. She would get used to it in time, and he had a feeling she secretly enjoyed it, if her little shy smirk was anything to go by.<br/><span style="color: #FFBF40"><br/>"So, Sir Damian,"</span>Abel paused as some ale was handed to him and he thanked the servant,<span style="color: #FFBF40"> "How has the night treated you thus far? You seem to be in good spirits."</span>Indeed Damian seemed to be in a far better mood than when he had first seen him. Perhaps the alliance was cheering him up. He wasn't sure.<span style="color: #FFBF40"> "Was it that you won your round at the tournament?"</span>Abel asked with a cocked eyebrow, then shook his head,<span style="color: #FFBF40"> "No, no. You are far too skilled and talented to have even worried about that. Winning that was likely a drop in the bucket for you, hmmm..?" <br/></span><br/>Abel was in rather good spirits himself, it seemed. Martine was amazing, Iris seemed rather pleased, and Hector was not so brutish after all. Damian was turning out to be a rather okay fellow, himself. A bit rugged and grouchy, but he was a war-seasoned man, it was to be rather expected.