[ MINT CANDY ] - For when your breath isn’t as fresh as newly-fallen snow.
It was just as spectacular a showing as it had been the last time, and Sigurd was no less awed by it all. It did not matter, much, that he was not in such dire straits as he had been that last time, nor that he had seen more than his share of galas as military commander or as Chalphy scion son; the efforts of all had culminated to make an event that he was proud to hold close to his memory.
Ah, at least - the efforts of most-
"Finn!" A rare enough occurrence that the young man - not a young man, he needed to remember that, he kept forgetting - approached apropos of nothing, and though Sigurd spread his arms in greeting to clap hands on Finn's shoulders, his wide smile became a grin and a laugh to inspect the other knight.
"I see that you are putting a firm stance that you are not participating in festivities," Sigurd said, plucking at the cloak fastened about Finn's throat. "A shame, I am sure that you would have caught more than your share of eyes if you put in just the barest effort - not, of course, that endeavors of the heart are deserving of the barest effort, nor, I think, would you ever be accused of doing any less than your best at, such as it is, what you put your mind to."
A shake of his head. Finn was a dedicated fellow, even as a young squire, and Sigurd knew with kindling certainty that Quan would have cultivated him into a fine knight of note, and a man to remark upon.
"One for me, one for you," he continued, plucking one of the mint's from Finn's palm with a wink, popping it into his mouth before he reached for the bouquet of roses at his side. "You surely have no need of these, least of all from me - what accolades should a knight bestow upon another knight? Like I am your Goddess of Love, hah!
"But, perhaps," and now his tone turned thoughtful and soft, "If you do not wish to have the rose yourself, you can find someone else to give it to."
