Regina had shed her light jacket almost immediately, and her thin teeshirt was already clinging to her back as she cleared out the stalls one by one. On emerging from one to dump her shovelfull, she found herself looking up at an imposing newcomer.
"Ah, Titus Pullo, late of the 13th," she greeted him with a congenial smile, feeling far more at ease with the world and everything in it at this moment.
"Your Highness," Pullo replied with a small bow of his head - it never hurt to stay on the good side of royalty. Though speaking of which... "What are you doing cleaning out the stables? Shouldn't you have imaginary people doing that for you?"
Regina smiled and shook her head. "I'm sure, but I enjoy the work. It... brings back happy memories."
"Happy memories rolling around in shit? Well... Guess I have a few of those myself," Pullo said, grinning. "Usually had more mud and blood in there too, mind." A slight flicker of something less pleasant cross Regina's face then, like the ghost of a memory passing behind her eyes, but then she was rearranging her face back into a smile.
"There's nothing better after a punishing ride than some punishing drudgery," she asserted, turning back to shovel some more muck out of the stall. "It's good for the soul."
Pullo wasn't sure about his soul, but he knew he slept better at night after a good day of hard labour. "Fair point," he allowed, and reached for the pitchfork leaning against one of the stall door.
The two worked in congenial silence for some time, though the job was considerably shortened by the presence of them both. Regina seemed to be attacking the task at hand with a gusto that Pullo hadn't seen her employ with anything in the past. His estimation of her rose as he watched her tackle the stinking piles of horseshit - he appreciated someone who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty, even if this was a bit more pastoral than he would've predicted for her.
Eventually Pullo took a break, setting his pitchfork aside and wandering over to a bucket of water which seemed sparkling clean except for a few pieces of straw floating on top. Without any hesitation he plunged his whole head in, then shook himself off, splattering water all around him.
"Good grief, you're like a wet dog!" Regina said, springing up in surprise as she was caught by the spray. She seemed more amused than annoyed, however.
"Smell better though, I wager," the Roman said with a grin, leaning down to wash his hands off as well. "Nothing like a good honest sweat, smells good on everyone."
"'Til it gets stale, certainly," Regina qualified.
"Well sure, it does until it doesn't. Same as anything. Flowers are pretty 'til they're not, swords are sharp 'til they're not, wine is good 'til it's not... aw, what am I saying, wine's always good."
The queen actually laughed at this, reaching to run her hands through her hair, pulling off the band that was holding it back in a short ponytail and retying it. "Well, quite," she said. "Well, I'm obliged to you for the help, Pullo - though I did tell the computer to make it dirty in here in the first place, so I hope you enjoyed the exercise."
"Almost as much as what I was hoping to find up here," he agreed, shrugging and leaning back against the slatted wood stall.
"Oh, and what were you hoping to find?"
"A brothel."
"Ah." Regina smirked. "And instead you ended up with a rather different sort of roll in the hay. My apologies."
He shrugged, though there was no hiding the look of disappointment on his face, as if he had expected her to offer to make it up to him. "S'alright, your majesty. Happy enough to help, me."
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"Ah, Titus Pullo, late of the 13th," she greeted him with a congenial smile, feeling far more at ease with the world and everything in it at this moment.
"Your Highness," Pullo replied with a small bow of his head - it never hurt to stay on the good side of royalty. Though speaking of which... "What are you doing cleaning out the stables? Shouldn't you have imaginary people doing that for you?"
Regina smiled and shook her head. "I'm sure, but I enjoy the work. It... brings back happy memories."
"Happy memories rolling around in shit? Well... Guess I have a few of those myself," Pullo said, grinning. "Usually had more mud and blood in there too, mind." A slight flicker of something less pleasant cross Regina's face then, like the ghost of a memory passing behind her eyes, but then she was rearranging her face back into a smile.
"There's nothing better after a punishing ride than some punishing drudgery," she asserted, turning back to shovel some more muck out of the stall. "It's good for the soul."
Pullo wasn't sure about his soul, but he knew he slept better at night after a good day of hard labour. "Fair point," he allowed, and reached for the pitchfork leaning against one of the stall door.
The two worked in congenial silence for some time, though the job was considerably shortened by the presence of them both. Regina seemed to be attacking the task at hand with a gusto that Pullo hadn't seen her employ with anything in the past. His estimation of her rose as he watched her tackle the stinking piles of horseshit - he appreciated someone who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty, even if this was a bit more pastoral than he would've predicted for her.
Eventually Pullo took a break, setting his pitchfork aside and wandering over to a bucket of water which seemed sparkling clean except for a few pieces of straw floating on top. Without any hesitation he plunged his whole head in, then shook himself off, splattering water all around him.
"Good grief, you're like a wet dog!" Regina said, springing up in surprise as she was caught by the spray. She seemed more amused than annoyed, however.
"Smell better though, I wager," the Roman said with a grin, leaning down to wash his hands off as well. "Nothing like a good honest sweat, smells good on everyone."
"'Til it gets stale, certainly," Regina qualified.
"Well sure, it does until it doesn't. Same as anything. Flowers are pretty 'til they're not, swords are sharp 'til they're not, wine is good 'til it's not... aw, what am I saying, wine's always good."
The queen actually laughed at this, reaching to run her hands through her hair, pulling off the band that was holding it back in a short ponytail and retying it. "Well, quite," she said. "Well, I'm obliged to you for the help, Pullo - though I did tell the computer to make it dirty in here in the first place, so I hope you enjoyed the exercise."
"Almost as much as what I was hoping to find up here," he agreed, shrugging and leaning back against the slatted wood stall.
"Oh, and what were you hoping to find?"
"A brothel."
"Ah." Regina smirked. "And instead you ended up with a rather different sort of roll in the hay. My apologies."
He shrugged, though there was no hiding the look of disappointment on his face, as if he had expected her to offer to make it up to him. "S'alright, your majesty. Happy enough to help, me."