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    Summary

    “So, what do you think of the lasses so far?” Gwaine asked him, as he eyed up the women who were milling about the place.

    “Pretty, as they always are,” said Arthur.

    It was a truthful answer, which he hoped Gwaine wouldn’t probe him too deeply on. If it had been someone else, he would have tried to summon up more enthusiasm. He hoped, however, that Gwaine was bright enough to realise the circumstances Arthur found himself in by now.

    “Well, let me know if you ever have your eye on anyone, and I’ll be sure to steer clear to give you the best chance.”

    Arthur scoffed, his pride ruffled.

    “As if I couldn’t have any woman I wanted,” he groused.

    He was not about to let Gwaine think he would ever consider him as a rival.

    “Ah, well, that’s the problem right there, isn’t it. You never seem to want one, Arthur.”

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