It would be a lie to say that he had ever had a low opinion of himself - his ego growing steadily with each year as more and more people compared him to the late, great Jon Arryn. The Young Falcon they all called him and his excessive confidence was a product of all the flattery that had been showered upon him in his formative years. If he were more cynical he would have seen it for what it was - an attempt to gain favour with the potential future ruler of The Vale - but instead he had simply chosen to believe everyone. He was an orphan from an almost inconsequential house who had never had the chance to know his parents and while Lady Anya had looked after him well, it was all too tempting to simply accept that he was special. That he was set apart from others by something other than just being parentless and penniless.
But he had perhaps never thought that highly over himself that he could have predicted having the luxury of being able to pick his bride this way. It seemed as though it was a privilege that should have been reserved for a king, to have so many ladies available to him. On some level he knew that it was probably a far from comfortable experience for the young women involved, to have their traits weighed and valued by him and his entourage to see who would make the best wife. He enjoyed the attention of it all far too much to pass it up, however, and had instead settled for attempting to put as many of the ladies at ease as he could. Considering himself as charming as he did, he didn’t think it such a difficult feat to give each of them an enjoyable moment.
The measure of time he was using was however long it took him to finish his drink. Of course, that varied depending on how interesting or captivating he found his companion to be but for the most part he thought it was going quite well. After excusing himself after a relatively quick exchange, he waved for two more drinks to be brought before searching for a woman he had yet to spend time with. Gaze landed on the brunette beauty he’d spotted at the beginning of the night and he wasted no time in going over to her. “My lady.” Bow was given with what he considered a handsome grin on his features, extending the glass out to her afterwards. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure yet - Ser Harrold Hardyng at your service. Or just Harry if you’d prefer.”
