Aramis

Aramis is no stranger to pressure. Even before being offered his commission by the King, he'd been a blooded and seasoned soldier, with several battles and a siege to his name. He can load, aim, and fire a rifle under fire himself, can narrow his world down to focus on what's exactly in front of him when it's his blade against another's, and he has proven this time and time again. But today, with the Dauphin's health hanging in the back of his mind and not a thing he could do to help; with Porthos paying the price for his distraction, with their utter helplessness caught between Rochefort and the Spanish diplomats, well. That's all a different kind of pressure.

He's all too happy that it's over. He's all too happy to put this day behind him and settle down at the yard table with a bottle of liquor Serge had been willing to part with. He's all too happy to gravitate towards Athos, and give Porthos just that bit longer on his own, before that whole thing has to come out - or not.

Not that it shows. His smile is as easy as ever when he straddles the bench at the table, when he drops his hat down onto it, although there is comfort, too, in knowing that if he does slip up and say something about where his mind has been all day, Athos will already know.

"Here's to that whole mess behind us, gunpowder and all, eh?" he tries, twisting the cork out, offering it to the other man before anything else can be said.