Whitefish River I Can't Believe There's Somethin' Left in My Chest Anymore

Even as she blew off his half-ass claim, it didn't affect him much as he simply laughed it off once again. Luckily I am a knight! And a knight he was, well, at least he liked to think so. This time his come back came a little quicker without being taken aback with the random, but welcomed, playfulness of the Count. Chivalrous, brave, fierce when needed be - even though he preferred to think of himself as a Jester, perhaps a clown in knight's clothing fitted him best.

Ira charged forward to meet him as he rushed in as well, the two collided and for a moment he thought he bested her again! Thinking that the knight would come out on top once again and show once and for all that good triumphs over... uhh... well Ira wasn't evil - the opposition of himself at this moment he supposed? She was playing sort of a villain-like role right now anyway by the way she spoke.

But of course not, not this time. He couldn't always come out victorious after all. He felt the wetness of the river on his nape, the warm breath of hers on his skin, her weight upon him as well. He wouldn't have really thought much of it if it wasn't for her knee-jerking reaction. Y-yes yes you win Count Ira. The man chuckled nervously, trying to evade her glance as if he had done something terribly wrong. His posture grew shyer, ears flattening and tail curling just enough in an apologetic gesture. 

Did he screw this up already? Was this it, the end of their brief friendly encounters? Doomed to be awkward forever? His heart thudded painfully in his chest, a feeling he had hoped to never feel again. When she stepped back, he took a moment to recollect himself, laying there in the water with his belly up, eyes staring at the sky trying to soothe his nerves.