Chaucer had been listening to the group as he fixed his hair, not entirely concerned with the comparative triviality of the conversation. With each strand in place however and the swelling on his left side down, he began to truly pay attention to what they were proposing.

Lounge in the bathroom?

The boy scrunched up his pointy nose in distaste; never before in history had there been a group of gentlemen that gathered in a lavatory. Not in the way that was being proposed, at least. Nay, for only women sought communal refuge in their toilettes, while men held salons at manors, coffee shops or... well, really anywhere else.

"Of course no women are allowed, but other lads are sure to come by-the-by, are they not?" Chaucer flung his hands in the air: must he always be the voice of reason? "Let us assume we can somehow eradicate the smell and overall ambience of this bloody water closet, are we to assume any old John can enter? If so, what is really the point?"

Dreams of someday becoming part of a Gentlemen's Club were a part of Chaucer's childhood, but this bathroom business seemed a right travesty!