As the dwarf went back to his drinking. Tycondrius was served his meal. The meat was cooked perfectly-- beautiful grill marks on the pork's outside, tender and juicy in. It was easily worth at least another compliment to the cook.
As for how good it was, Tycon had established certain expectations for Tyrion cuisine. He would enjoy his plate to his fullest extent... as long as its taste was superior to the dishes from Olea Garden.
It was a fine evening, filled with good food and pleasant, idle conversation. After the dwarf's initial surliness, the fellow became more agreeable as the night went on and the drinks continued to flow.
"I'm diff'rent from Ector..." The dwarf complained between ales, "He didn't have a choice, gettin' his loved ones taken from him. Sorry, Ec."
The cook, apparently named Ector, shrugged his shoulders, "It's in the past. The kid's right. As long as I'm livin', Orielle's lookin' down from the heavens and smiling."
