A series of claps catch the attention of all.
"You may discuss anything you care to on your own time," Malodoro says, raising her hand, "and occupy yourselves in whatever manner you deem fit whilst within these walls. But understand that every mother's child of you will be prepared to dazzle His Grace's Court this Sunday…or there will be words."
"Aye! Words like, 'Ah, no, stop, not so hard,'" puts in Timshel, pretending to cringe beneath a whip.
Malodoro looks down at him, one eyebrow lifting.
"Quite," she says.
Onward