“It’s already too rich for my blood.” “Everything’s too rich for your blood, Galahad.” Gawain turned to Tristan. “You up for another?” “Why not. Not like you’ll beat me.” Gawain’s eyes narrowed. “How much would you care to bet?” “If you defeat me, you can keep me.” Galahad started, gaze darting between the two men. “Keep you? Who said anything about keeping? That’s not --” Tristan didn’t move, or even indicate that he’d heard Galahad’s protest. “Gawain, you in or out?” “I’m in.” “Gawain!” “You don’t have to participate,” Gawain shrugged, looking none too apologetically at Galahad. “And let you enjoy him all on your own while I’m stuck in my room, imagining what the two of you would look like together?” Tristan knew well enough to smother his smile.
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