It was wonderful to feel the chill of the cold winter air on his pelt again. Sure, every winter since his birth, the Dauphin had growled incessantly at the chill as it penetrated the wood and brick hotel - or once long ago, at his familial den. It was a lie and it was only for the sake of whining did the redheaded man complain. After his winter pelt set in, the wind and weather hardly bothered him at all. Even though the weather was strangely the flavor of mid fall rather than the usual moods at the onset of winter. Regardless of his needless complaints, and the fact the weather did not bother him more than it chilled his nose and made his eyes sting, Strel adorned himself appropriately. The clothing may have been in excess, especially with the considerably fluffy pelt he now wore, but he chose lighter cloths to sit well on his lithe, but puffy, form.

A lightly knitted scarf the color of a winter sea was draped around his shoulders and neck and over the vest he had been making for himself. It was lined with red cloth and the outer layer was of a dark red plaid. It was a lovely design, if he did have to say so himself. He tugged on the lower hem, straightening it against his belly with a flat palm. Tall and thin, his clothes had to be made tailored to his terribly stretched out body. Oh well. Strel gave a languorous stretch, before growling in irritation as he straightened his clothing once more. Vigilante would not care how he came, so long as he came of sound mind and body. Regardless, Strel was rather focused on appearance and propriety.

It was to be a social visit, and the redhead had no business to discuss other than their declining numbers and the strange absence of much activity. Or had Strel simply been under a rock and disregarded everything? Actually, that was terribly like him, especially when there was a project of cloth and thread in his hands. Strel was fairly useless whenever he was set on something that was right under his nose. Rarely did a project outside of the manor ever take hold of him, though a few had in the past. Often now, he would find himself wandering the kingdom, looking for ways to improve on what was there or what was needed. Perhaps now could be a time for the two leaders to chat about the condition of the kingdom they looked over? It was long overdue, that was for certain. That and the Dauphin still felt he was a bad leader and fairly useless.

Bottle of Freetown imported rum in hand, the redheaded man went from the manor clad in the aforementioned clothes as well as a pair of fairly faded jeans cut to fit his rather lengthy legs. He had not thought to bring anything for the man's children or woman, but he figured they knew where to find him if they wanted such things. After all, he had more than enough to give out as well as trade away for. Strelein approached the home that Vigilante and his mate called his own, and called out the King's name. His hand was cradling the delicate warped bottle to keep the liquid safe.

Strel looked into the murky waters of the rum inside the hand-made glass bottle. It was so bloody tempting but it was not for him to drink. It was for his King as a simple gift, as well as a thanks for the opportunity given him. That and it would be nice to do something kind and selfless for their leader, even if it was secretly kind of selfish. He sought no favors as he had little want for anything anymore. Strel was a content man and he was happy. Why not try sharing that happiness with the man who needed it more than he did? Swirling the bottle up at eye level, the Dauphin watched it settle and could almost smell the rum. What a pity it was not for him. But at least he had the sense to get another bottle for his personal use. Perhaps Noss would like to sample it with him, and they could have themselves a grand little party.

His niece-in-law's visit was still weighing him heavily, especially since he knew that he could not harbor the young man she loved in the Kingdom. It would not do, especially with what he knew about the young man. Vigilante would be wary and certainly Cercetori d'Arte would have told him what happened. Ayasha could not find her refuge in this place, and it saddened him that he could do no more for the girl than give advice. Girls were always confusing for the man, and he had never really had a problem with relationships (which was, naturally, a big ugly lie).

Strel peered up at the girl who appeared, remember that the King still had his children living with him. Lowering the bottle, the man gave a light smile to the young woman, wondering how much time had gone by since he had seen her, especially considering all of Ayita's litters were beginning to blur together for him. Was he getting old already? But the man peered at the girl again, and realized his mistake instantly. This was not the King's get, but the Knight's. Mentally slapping himself, and thankfully he had not opened his mouth yet, the redheaded tailor broadened his smile. "Hello there," he greeted, nodding his head at her question. "That I am." He gave a light laugh, raising a brow. "And you're one of Haven's kids, aren't you?"