It was a crisp sunday morning, and Percival Winthrop Orrington was enjoying his the end of his brunch with a particularly well made cup of tea for this region, which he made strict note to ask the innkeeper what leaf was used and to leave a well deserved tip. As he sipped, his companion, a lecherous rogue finally awoke and descended the inn's stairs. A vulgar, if not useful, wretch if Percival had ever met one.
"Oi, Percy, wot 'ave ye got there?"
"Please refrain from calling me "Percy", if you would. And this is is a cup of tea, sir."
"Wot ye drinkin' tea fer Percy? Ye ain't summun's mum fer cryin out...."
Vulgar. Yet as the unclean man walked towards the door, a particularly large man stood up, with two others brandishing clubs.
"We've been waiting for you, bastard! You slept with my daughter!"
The rogue backed away slowly, hand on a shortsword at his hip. as the men in front of him tried to circle around him.
This was twice that the rogue had disheveled a maiden's virtue whilst travelling together. And again, Percival stood up.
"Gentlemen. I understand your feelings towards my companion, and you are certianly entitled to redeem the honor of your daughter. However, my companion would surely attempt to harm you further than the situation calls for. If I could intervene on his behalf, perhaps fisticuffs could satisfy you..."
The tea would have to wait. For friends, even foul friends, must be protected.