[ the celebrations in the garden are nothing particularly exciting to a prince raised on champagne parties and other tacky displays of revelry in the grand palace while their country starved around them. nikolai has already won several rounds of slapkiss chess, and his pockets are full of diamonds. if he's stuck here for an undetermined amount of time, he'd like to learn a little more than how saltburnt throws a party, and there's no better way to snoop about an opulent estate than to weasel information out of the staff on hand. ]

My good man!

[ nikolai approaches the (abnormally tall?) stablehand with a grin, a plate balanced in his gloved hand which he offers to the man — a heaping spoonful of caviar, and an assortment of anatomical cakes, the most interesting in the shape of a breast which nikolai's fingerprint has clearly been in, and a smallish sized cock with cream spurting from the tip. ]

Thank the Saints you're here. I'm in need of a horse, but I have a condition in which I can only ride the most ornery but visually interesting one in your stable. A mare or a stallion, it makes no difference, but nothing pure white, because they get so dirty and I'm known for my misadventures. Are you hungry? The hors d'oeuvres are quite good. I recommend the cock.