ext. forest clearing outside of king hubert's castle. day.
" so ... uh, did you see a horse run by here? " phillip says, trying to keep his voice as casual as he possibly can, in the hopes that it would distract them from the fact that he was covered with grass and mud. you would think that after years of being his companion, phillip would know not to say anything that would excite samson while he rides his back. but then again, samson is way smarter than he seems ... and phillip is always surprised by yet another thing he finds exciting.
running a hand over his hair, he almost audibly retched as the thick mud caked over his hand, and dropped to the ground with a splat. he still tried for a smile, though. his princely sensibilities of making sure his horse is safe still winning over needing to run away and clean himself. " he has a white coat and a grey mane? a little too big to be acting like a kid? "
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Malcolm shook his head, as he turned around to face the prince. "Oh trust, I remember what your mount looks like," he said, smiling wickedly. It had been some time since Mal had seen Hubert's heir. Of course their history was a violent one, but Mal had spent time since those painful and problematic days, considering life and where it should lead him. He couldn't deny certain... primal emotions, seeing Philip again. Emotions that could cause more problems.
He held his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. "Hold your sword, young Prince," he offered, his voice patient and careful, but not quite cold yet. "I'm not hear to initiate a fight. I come with a white flag, if you will." He waved his hand, and smoky dark magic swirled, transmuting to a small table, two chairs, and a serving of tea, with biscuits. "Can I tempt you with a cuppa?"