|Summary:||Kevan swears his allegiance to House Terrick while Tym and Lucienne chat, then Jaremy asks the commoners' opinions of the confrontation the day before.|
|Date:||21 July 288|
|Related Logs:||Not the Last of This|
|Courtyard - Four Eagles Tower|
|The Courtyard of Four Eagles Tower is floored with a fine grey stone that match the color and tone of the interior structure of the castle's yard. Plants have been potted and placed around the entrances to add some color, the greenery accompanied by several trellises of flowers that climb the support columns. The most prominent structure in the area is the set of large slab steps that lead up to the great oak doors of the Great Hall. Several hallways and accesses lead off into different sections of Four Eagles which makes this the hub of noble activity when court is not being held.|
|21 July, 288|
Jaremy's eyes scan, catching the movement of familiar skirts and his gaze travels to find his sister, no doubt moving quickly to secure her horse. The future lord of Terrick's Roost looks to his men, finding that they too saw her movement. "Two of you with the Lady Lucienne at all times. No less." He nods to them, giving them the respect of their sworn duty before he turns to face the Hedge Knight.
Much shorter than the saddled man before him, Jaremy takes a moment to glance over Kevan's colors and heraldy, taking well note of the hawk sent to flight. Wrist hanging limply over his sword's hilt, he moves to stand before the knight. "We've not met, but if the guard has allowed you through you must be Ser Kevan Tierney." He nods sharply. "Are you he?"
Indeed, Lucienne comes to secure her horse. Her eyes lift once again as she arrives, the smallest of smiles bid to the men - it grows wider and warmer as she bestows it upon Jaremy. "My lord brother," she greets softly, head dipping ever so slightly, aimed not to interrupt his address to the knight.
Kevan brushes his cloak from off his shoulder; there's a shortsword(still peace-bonded) strapped to his belt, a companion to the greatsword hanging from his horse's saddle. He turns to look at Jaremy, meeting the young Terrick lord with a piercing gaze. His eyes study Jaremy for a moment before he finally nods. "Aye, I am he," Kevan replies, his voice a throaty baritone. He hands off Leviathan's reins to a stableboy before continuing, advancing a few steps towards the young Terrick. "I come to pledge my sword to the service of House Terrick," he says finally. "I'm told your cause is good, as is your silver." Kevan continues to watch Jaremy closely, recognizing the young man from the earlier scene in the town square.
Tym is not the least common sight in Four Eagles Tower ever, occasionally visiting on business with the local smiths, and known to be a friend of Jarod's. Being on good terms with the Captain of the Guard does tend to give one access to a place. He carries a rough canvas sack slung over his shoulder, its contents lumpy and occasionally thudding dully together as he moves into the courtyard. Kevan and his horse earn a glance, and then Lucienne and hers as well, and he executes a surprisingly graceful bow to the young woman. And, by extension, her brother, as he's facing both of them at the time, but he's clearly more interested in the one than the other.
Jaremy's eyes tilt to his sister for but a moment before the knight before him pledges his services to House Terrick. Listening closely, he locks eyes with the Hedge Knight and weighs the man in return. The greatsword, the hawk, the destrier, and the dark colors the man wears are calculated in his young mind, getting a sense for the man. The pledge is more formal, and thusly Jaremy's reply is as well.
"Our cause is noble, Ser Kevan, in that I can promise, as well as our silver." Jaremy's eyes continue to weigh the man as the mention of silver. "My brother has spoken to you, Ser Jarod. If you so swear your services, Ser Kevan, give me your sword and take your knee." He motions before him, turning to spot the familiar sight of Tym Rivers, who also receives a nod. Business, of course, must take place before sociality.
Hands free her skirts to the ground again, and Lucienne waits patiently for a stablehand to ready her horse for her, alternating between peering after him as the saddle is checked and rechecked, and peering after the exchange between her brother and Kevan with quiet interest. Tym's bow prompts another of those tugging smiles from the lady, and she dips into a delicate curtsy in return, pitching her smooth voice habitually quiet: "Master Rivers."
As the stableboy begins to lead Leviathan into the stable, Kevan stops him long enough to remove his greatsword from the saddle before allowing the boy on his way. As he steps away from the stable, he inclines his head towards Lucienne, offering her a murmured greeting and stealing a curious glance at Tym before advancing towards Jaremy. "I do so swear, young lord," he rasps, extending his still-sheathed sword handle-first in Jaremy's direction. The hedge knight sinks to one knee, though his head remains unbowed, his back unbent, as he continues to regard the young man to whom he's about to swear his fealty.
Jaremy, in the process of swearing in a knight into Terrick service, is unable to turn his head away, and instead focuses his brown eyes on Ser Kevan. His jaw tightens, suddenly remembering a glimpse of a tall man on horseback in the crowd. "Do you so pleade, Ser Kevan Tierney, to defend this House and their lands and people from all enemies, so long as their faith is kept with you?" He asks, gripping the heavy sword above the knight, prepared to touch his shoulders with the weighty blade.
"Lady Lucienne," Tym replies, his tone polite, but his smile more friendly than mannered. He straightens up and shoves hair back with a hand, glancing at the swearing ceremony occurring for only a moment. "Well today, I hope?" he inquires, and then jerks his chin up to indicate the horse, "Fine animal you got there."
"I shall defend your House, your 'folk, and your lands as though they were my own, from this day forth, for as long as my oath is held." Kevan's head remains high, his chin jutting outwards; it's the stance of an undeniably proud man, one who doesn't offer his loyalty lightly. His eyes never waver from Jaremy's face, and his tone holds no doubt. Kevan certainly doesn't seem to second-guess himself once he's set himself on a path. "This I swear."
Jaremy does not find what he sees wanting, apparently, and in turn taps the broad blade of the greatsword to each of Ser Kevan's shoulders. "Then as a Lord of Terrick's Roost I accept your pledged service to House Terrick and its lands." Jaremy replies, allowing the blade to hover to the side, switching the blade to his left hand. His right arm extends down to Kevan, an offer to help him from his knees. "House Terrick welcomes you and your service, Ser Kevan, tonight you will dine at our table." He smiles broadly. "Welcome to Terrick's Roost."
"Very," replies Lucienne gently, clasping her hands together in front of her, mid-waist. "Thankyou." The horse's reins are offered her, and she takes them with an acknowledging nod to the stablehand as she reaches an affectionate pat to the horse's cheek. "His name's Ticker," she introduces, sliding her eyes back toward Tym for a brief moment. The ceremony begs attention, though, and she can't help but to glance again as it continues, smile increasing another measure.
Tym looks at Ticker, side-stepping a little and tilting his head to get a better view of the animal, nodding along as he looks. "Very fine," he repeats, and then asks, "How'd y'pick the name?" He seems curious, and glances at the horse again as if there might be some clue he missed. The ceremony draws his attention again only when Lucienne looks that way and he briefly follows her gaze.
Ser Kevan might be a proud man, but he accepts Jaremy's hand readily enough, clasping the other man's wrist firmly as he rises to his feet. His grip lingers a moment, holding Jaremy's wrist as he would that of a comrade-in-arms before releasing his grip. He acknowledges the welcome with a nod and a thin smile of his own. "I thank you, young lord, and I look forward to the hospitality of your family's table." He gives a short chuckle. "I certainly won't miss inn food." Though, in the Rockcliff's defense, their bread was good.
"We too, will pledge to defend you and yours against all threats as this faith is kept in return." Jaremy replies, offering the man his sword back. Turning, he claps his hand on the man's shoulder and motions to the side, where Lucienne and Tym as speaking. "We were, it appears, about to ride but that may be delated for a short while. Tym Rivers is the assistant to our lead smith, and he is speaking with none other than my good sister, Lady Lucienne Terrick." Jaremy replies, motioning for Ser Kevan to walk with him. "It appears that he's brought some of his wares to the Tower." He adds, stepping towards the other two.
Suitably pleased by the goings-on, Lucienne returns her attention to Tym, that smile intact. The corners turn down wryly, and she explains, "He's got a lot of heart. How does the day find you, Master Rivers?" There's a warmth behind the politeness of her enquiry, and she allows space for the reply before shifting her attention away once more as the others approach. Her hand lingers on her horse, rubbing down the length of his neck.
Tym thinks on that for a minute, and then grins. "I like it." He gives Ticker a pat on the hindquarters, and then glances back to Lucienne to shrug, "Carting around ingots and scrap metal's not exactly my idea of a good time, but a man's got to keep himself in copper somehow." He smiles crookedly, and then glances over as Jaremy and Kevan approach, chin shifting in something like a greeting. "Yer lordship," he calls the nobleman, and to Kevan he adds the vaguer, "Evening."
"If you need another sword to ride at your side, young lord, Leviathan and I are both well rested." Kevan accepts his sword back, slipping it back into his sheath and taking a moment to attach it to his belt as Jaremy guides him towards where Lucienne and Tym are standing. He nods again to the woman, and bows slightly now that introductions have been made. "M'lady," he greets her with a slight twitch of his lips. "A fine animal indeed," he says of her horse before turning to Tym. "Another Rivers, eh?" he says to the young smith, a mischievious twinkle in his eyes. He doesn't ask which straying noble had made Tym his byblow; Kevan's a little more polite than all that. "Well met, then. If it was you that reshod Leviathan this Tuesday past, I thank you. Quality work, it was." The horse had thrown a shoe on Kevan's trip into town, and he'd had to leave the horse with the smith overnight, so he hadn't seen who'd done the work.
"Sister." Jaremy addresses Lucienne, reaching up to pet her horse on the neck. Despite the trouble yesterday, it appears that Jaremy is in high spirits despite the hint of gray circles beneath his eyes. "Tym…" He also nods, addressing the blacksmith's assistant. "This is Ser Kevan Tierney, and he has just pledged service to House Terrick. It appears that all of us save for you, Tym, are prepared for a ride back down the hill from the Tower, so perhaps after business we'll ride with you down that way, which of course, Kevan…we do accept your offer for accompanyment." Jaremy smiles. "So Tym, are you just making a delivery or are you here for barter?"
Lucienne regards Tym with an amused sort of sympathy for his tale of woe, her head tilting and shoulders lifting mildly; a man must, afterall, keep himself in copper somehow. She remains bright at Jaremy's address, and even with Ticker's reins in hand manages another of her elegant curtsies. "Ser Kevan," she greets, sounding as well as her brother in spirits, "Welcome to Terrick's Roost. I do thankyou for your compliment, and your pledge."
Tym smirks faintly at Kevan and nods, "Aye, there's as many of us about as streams in the swamp, as they say." He shifts the sack slung over his shoulder, fingers lifting and retaking their grip as he tilts his head, "Tuesday?" It takes some thinking back, it seems, but then he nods, "I think that was me. I came in Tuesday round mid-morning, and did a bit of this and that. Shod a couple horses, your Leviathan was one like as not. 'nother fine animal," he offers. To Jaremy he shakes his head, "Just dropping off. Smith in town asked me to carry this up as I was coming anyway. Jarod been sent running off to Stonebridge already, too?"
"Just so, just so," Kevan replies to Tym with a knowing smile. He's no bastard himself, but he's certainly met his share. Lucienne's thanks are met with an incline of the head. "At your service, m'lady." When Jaremy accepts Kevan's offer to ride alongside, the knight motions again to the stableboy to have his horse brought right back out, likely annoying the boy… not that it makes a difference to Kevan.
The stableboy was just returning from the stables, and as he catches the motioning from Ser Kevan, he wheels and jogs back to the stables, no doubt doing his best to hide the 'but I WAS JUST IN THERE' that he so desperately wants to throw up with his hands. First Ticker and then Leviathan again, the child gets to work.
"Yes, Ser Jarod has ridden for Stonebridge with Ser Revyn quite early this morning. No doubt the two of you were present as I saw your faces, but even word's traveled this far about what happened yesterday. Ugly business indeed, but do extend to your master, Tym, that Terrick's Roost is as safe as ever. The additional riders are just keeping eye for the range." Jaremy turns to offer his arm to his sister, to help her onto her horse. So close to her, his lips flatten a little, frowning to her. "So, Tym, unload your wares quickly and when we get to Rockcliff Inn we'll have some summerwine. I've heard some of the strawberry vintage has come in from the farms."
The lady inclines her head in return to Ser Kevan, her lashes fluttering at his response. Good Ticker takes all this movement in his stride, shifting only a back hoof slightly as Lucienne slips a look over the saddle to make sure it is just so. She adds nothing further to the menfolk's conversation, holding her opinions close. As she turns back to Jaremy's offer of an arm, she extends a hand to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly instead, her smile softening under his frown. Her brows lift, eyes widen, perhaps begging reassurance in return before she accepts his help to mount.
Tym's brows quirk at Jaremy's words, and for a moment he looks puzzled, but then chuckles, "Given he spends his days surrounded by giant hammers and molten-hot swords, I'm doubtin' he feels much threatened, yer lordship." He perks up a bit at the mention of wine, though, and nods, "I'll do that, then." And off he heads towards the castle's forge.
As Leviathan is brought out, Kevan returns his greatsword to its usual place, attached to his horse's saddle. As large a weapon as it is, it isn't really practical to wear the thing on his belt, and its current placement makes for easy access while mounted. He clambers up onto the saddle, and guides Leviathan towards the rest of the Terrick group. Looking skyward, he raises an arm, as if beckoning someone or something; a moment later, a loud cry is heard from above, and a red-tailed hawk swoops in and reclaims her perch on Kevan's gauntlet. Turning Leviathan to face Jaremy and Lucienne, he nods to the pair of young Terricks. "Ready to ride, m'lord, m'lady."
Issuing a reassuring nod to Lucienne, letting her know that he's well, he brushes his hand down Ticker's side and around the horse's back so that he won't be kicked. Stepping past towards his own horse, the three sworn swords move to form an inverted echelon at the rear of the riding party, assuming that Ser Kevan will be maintaining forward guard. "We should depart when Tym Rivers is ready…" Jaremy replies, grabbing his saddle's pommel and easily slipping onto his destrier's back, patting the gray and white horse's mane gratefully. "…though after the summerwine we should take the fields back. I'm sensing that my sister's been waiting all morning to retrieve Ticker from the stables." He smirks quietly, tilting an eyebrow in Lucienne's direction.
Lucienne turns Ticker to assume her spot in the party, and nods her head, agreeing to wait for Tym. She's caught mid-lean, patting the horse's neck again by her brother's claim, and her head snaps up to look at him guiltily, her lower lip drawn in under her teeth. "M'lord!" She scolds him good-naturedly, eyes bright. "You give me away. The morning was long; I've earned my time this evening."
Kevan can't help but chuckle at Lucienne's mock outburst. "The fields it is, then," he says with a nod to Jaremy. To Lucienne, he says with a wry smile, "I know that feeling, lady." He takes his place at the front of the group, wheeling Leviathan around and bringing the great horse to a stop as he waits for Tym along with the rest of them.
Tym returns in due time, the promise of wine he may not have to pay for enough to speed his steps more than usual, it seems. Though his pace as he returns is still closer to a meander than a jog, but he is free of his burden, and tipping a casual salute to the gathered riders. "I'm ready if you're ready," he says.
Jaremy beams in the direction of the gates, lightly tapping his destrier's sides with his feet and issuing a few clicks of his tongue. The horse starts forward slowly. "Let's begin than, shall we?" He nods to Kevan, allowing the newly pledged Knight of Terrick to lead the ride. "Thank you for the delivery, Tym, you and your master do good work. It's not just Leviathan's shoes, Ser Kevan, but a good deal of work that Tym has done has come to the Tower and has shod both my mounts and my dear sister's…" He smiles to Lucienne. "…and my sister does seem to share her love of horses with me. You'll find us often ranging."
Lucienne borders on a laugh of her own at Kevan's wry response, but it ends up suppressed behind a close-lipped grin that she turns to Jaremy. She taps Ticker onward, needing no noise to spur him to motion. "I do my best to keep up with my dearest brother," she allows modestly, her easy balance in the saddle contrasting her words.
Kevan nods. "It's a hobby of mine, as well," he says as Jaremy describes his and his sister's riding habits. "Leviathan enjoys a good run, and I've never known Andra to pass up a chance to stretch her wings," he adds, looking at the hawk with a fond smile. "And I myself do rather relish the fresh air, out there beyond the walls." With that, he spurs Leviathan into motion, leading the procession towards the gate.
Tym shrugs a bit at Jaremy's words as he walks along beside the horses, remarking simply, "I don't mind shoeing. Like working with horses." He rakes a hand through his hair, and glances up at the nobles and their retainers as they go, then says nothing more for the moment.
The party travels through the gates and onto the long, winding path that stretches downhill towards the town proper. Leaning back at a slight angle to remain upright in the saddle, Jaremy smiles at his sister's words. "…and at times I find myself trying to keep up with her. Ticker's a very fast mount. Very strong over long distances." Jaremy offers, pausing as he hears the gates closing behind them. "So, Ser Kevan, Tym…I'm curious. The event yesterday with Ser Rygar Nayland. What did you see? Speak plainly, I'd like to know your minds."
"There is nothing," Lady Lucienne voices just loudly enough to carry her reply to Ser Kevan, "Quite like a good stretch in the saddle." She rolls her shoulders back a touch, and dips her head at her brother's kind words, and again even further at his request to the two as the gates shut. Though she dare not twist her face to see, her eyes shift subtly; can she spot Tym's face?
There's silence from the front for a moment; Kevan considers his words before speaking. "What I saw," he begins, turning to regard the young Terrick, "was an arrogant whoreson of a Nayland try to do a very foolish thing, and a certain young lord acting almost as foolishly to send him on his way." He raises a hand to forestall any response. "I mean no insult, truly. However… high-handed Ser Rygar may have been, but if his warrant was truly genuine… you were unwise to keep the whore from him. Especially in such a fashion as to offer insult not only to his house, but the Tordanes as well." He purses his lips, considering the problem. "Though it would have been just as unwise, I think, to give Miss Amelia to them. To allow a Nayland to serve a warrant of arrest on Terrick soil…" He shakes his head. "It seems by my reckoning they wanted to put you - the Terricks, I mean - in an untenable position. Defending the whore was a fool's errand, m'lord, but Ser Jarod was right, I think, when he said it was the best option you had. Better than letting the Naylands know they could run roughshod over Terrick authority, in your own bailiwick no less." A long exhale. "I told Ser Jarod last night that there was undoubtedly some greater purpose behind it all, and that remains my opinion. At least now the Naylands know of your resolve. I doubt they'll be so brazen again — and if they are, they won't enjoy the experience." At that, Kevan smiles wolfishly, almost as if he anticipates the attempt.
Tym's face is easily seen, for all the good that may do Lucienne. Not that looking on Tym's face has ever been a hardship, but it's not terribly enlightening in terms of what he might be thinking. He turns to glance around at the faces of the others as Kevan speaks, and then goes back to idly cleaning his nails with other nails, picking grime out from beneath them. He lets a moment or two pass after Kevan stops speaking, and then glances around again, as if just remembering his opinion was requested, too. He shrugs and replies, "Was kinda surprised the whore wasn't better looking, after all that."
Jaremy lowers his gaze to Tym, slowly, watching the man's expression for a quiet moment before a snort erupts from the back of his throat. "Ask Tym Rivers for honesty and it comes like a hammerfall onto an anvil." Jaremy muses, shaking his head, not quite still believing what he's just heard. He turns his head to his sister, givin her a widened pair of eyes and a funny-face, complete with scrunched-up nose. "Though, Ser Kevan, I'm finding your presence here a fitting one, because those are the exact things that I was thinking while it was happening. It was a double-edged blade. Our strength here are in our smallfolk, all of them, regardless of profession, and I would not let them test that. I wasn't going to gift him with a childish game of words for all to see, which is clearly his intent. This tourney, upcoming, will be interesting…for lack of a better word."
Lucienne shifts, her chin lifting after a moment's study of the craftsman. Her eyes dart about as Ser Kevan expresses his opinions plainly, focus lost as she processes this… then Tym's addendum draws a cough from her into her hand, and she meets her brother's funny-face with a scandalised pair of brown eyes wide. Did he really just say that?! The lady blinks to school her face back to proper neutrality, hand dropping to her chest, head shaking. As seriousness finds her again, she draws a deep breath. Interesting indeed.
Kevan finds it nigh impossible to restrain a guttural laugh at Tym's remark, so he doesn't even try. "Well played, Master Rivers, well played." After a last, lingering chuckle, his expression turns serious once again as he turns back to Jaremy. A measuring look is directed at the lordling; Jaremy's words are starting to give Kevan an insight into the young man's character, and he seems to approve well enough. "Quite," he replies to the Terrick heir with a nod of the head. At the mention of the tourney, Kevan's lips tighten in another one of those predatory smiles. "Can't say I'm not looking forward to it. Personal grudges do tend to add a bit of spice to the tilt. If the Naylands prove to fight as ambitiously as they scheme, so much the better."
Tym shrugs at the responses to his answer, replying, "Just sayin'. I mean, she's no Lyla," he says, the locals likely recognizing the name of the pretty brunette barmaid at the local tavern, "And no Tyra, neither," he adds, shaking his head. That seems to be truly all he cares to say on the subject, though after a few moments more of picking at his nails, he offers a nod to Kevan, agreeing, "Always more fun to watch when folks're looking for blood. More work knockin' dents outta armor, too," he adds, though it's unclear whether he considers this a good thing or a bad one.
"You do have a fine point, Tym. These sorts of things have a way of making blacksmiths a good deal of coin. At the very least you'll be taking dents out of armor from blunted tourney weapons very soon. In that, I do hope that you travel in support of your lords to Stonebridge. We'll be leaving soon and you can find protection on the road with our caravan. Once there you can sell your wares and hopefully be available for any emergency repairs to Terrick knights. Pass it by your master if you've not decided yet, but decide soon." Jaremy replies, falling into place beside his sister. "As for the tourney itself, Ser Kevan, I'll be entering the lists for the joust, and will make a request that you and I are separated as much as possible." He looks to his sister as he speaks. "At the request of my lord father I will not be participating in the grand melee, due to too much possibility of injury, especially with those wielding hammers. I've no bride or children, and so I'll heed their wisdom in this."
It is all Lucienne can do to keep herself from rolling her eyes as Tym references the other women, but she valiantly holds on to her measure of primness by blinking long. As her lashes lift, she sets her gaze upon her brother; he seems the safest option, anyway. Her lips purse a small frown, though it melts a touch at the last. She nods, just one lengthy movement, clearly tense despite the small relief on the matter of the melee.
"Probably a wise thing," notes Kevan. "I'd hate to take you away from a worthier opponent. Such as, say, Ser Rygar." He grins, and nods at Jaremy's explanation about the melee. "Well, I'll see if I can take down a Nayland or three in the melee on your behalf, m'lord. Consider it a small service in return for all this silver you're about to pay me," he jokes, his grin spreading wider.
Tym swipes at his hair and shrugs at Jaremy, "Aye, milord, we'll be there. Every smith in riding distance is like to be, I'd wager. Plenty of work to go 'round, at this sort of thing, and business t'be won. Plus I never miss seeing a good melee, myself."
"Well…I won't miss the melee either. I'll be watching by Father and Mother." Jaremy replies, speaking directly to Lucienne. "…and sister. With Ser Revyn and Ser Jarod in the melee alongside Ser Kevan, we'll be praying for the lot of you." Twisting in the saddle, he motions for Berek, one of the sworn swords to ride up to him. "I'm going to ride ahead to Rockcliff and purchase the summerwine for you all and will meet you soon. I have matters to tend to. Again, Ser Kevan and Tym, thank you for your contributions." With that, he nods to them all and rides forward, taking a gallop towards the town ahead.
"May the seven show us their favour," Lucienne agrees softly, her lips holding just a weak smile for her brother. She cants her head as he excuses himself and gives a sedate blink to accompany her farewell to him. "Go well, my lord brother. We'll see you shortly." As he surges forward, she sends a long look after him before murmuring, "Concern for that one is well-placed, I fear."
Kevan lifts his hand in a sardonic salute, watching as one of the lesser sworn rides up to join Jaremy. The now-sworn knight watches as the two of them gallop off. "Hope, for your House's sake, that such concern is unwarranted, m'lady," Kevan responds to Lucienne, in a tone not much louder than hers, as he turns to face her. Regarding her for a moment, he nudges Leviathan forward a few steps to retake the point of the formation.
Tym gives a nod and another scrap of a salute as Jaremy rides off, continuing to wander along beside Lucienne, a bit back of Kevan. "Not much of a fighter?" he asks the lady curiously, commenting, "That why he never fought in any of the other tournaments before? Bit old for this t'be his first, if y'ask me." Not that anyone did, or that he seems concerned that they haven't.
The lady breathes deeply again, and drops her eyes to her hands under Kevan's gaze - perhaps uncomfortable. "On the contrary, Master Rivers," she defends staunchly, chin lifting again. "I have every confidence in my Lord's abilities, as should you. I shouldn't speak so, pardon me, please."
Tym just shrugs at the lady, and replies, "Guess we'll all find out soon enough."