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[center][h1][color=97b597]Xavier[/color] [color=gray]&[/color] [color=c4df9b]Aethel[/color] [color=gray]Beowulf[/color][/h1][/center]
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While Xavier’s frown grows deeper as he watches Killian leave, Aethel makes a dramatic show of brushing himself off as if the Conan Alpha had sullied his clothes. [color=c4df9b]“Just a brute. Xavier, I suggest we [i]stop[/i] inviting the Conan clan to events, don’t you agree?”[/color] He glances to his brother, but the eldest son’s eyes are transfixed on the assistant while Killian orders another drink. 

[color=c4df9b]“Ahem,”[/color] Aethel clears his throat, shooting his brother a glare before looking back at Rowan. [color=c4df9b]“We’re truly sorry this happened, let us make it up to you.”[/color] His eyes watch as Xavier finally stands and marches towards the bar.

The eldest Beowulf slips behind the bar and shoves some ice into a handkerchief he’s pulled out of his pocket. He ties it up and sets it gently by Killian, moving to stand at the bar with him but keeping his distance out of respect. [color=97B597]“I’m sorry.”[/color] He says, his voice far more gentle than normal.