The smirk stays firmly planted on his thin cheeks, "Why don't you ask her?"

Tyrion almost growls, but drops the topic altogether, instead asking as Pod transfers the last book, "Any advice for me on my new position?"

"Keep a low profile."

"If I had a gold dragon for every time I heard that joke, I'd be richer than you are," Tyrion responds with a unoffended--just irritated--glare.

Petyr shrugs, "Well, you are richer than I am."

"Good point."

"They're only numbers. Numbers on paper. Once you understand that, it's easy to make them behave. Trivial even," the whoremonger explains, turning to Tyrion with a superior smirk meant to push him. "You want a real challenge? Try whores."

Tyrion finds himself having enough of this man's tongue, shifting to address the man with reservations lost, "Is that how you got Gabrielle to behave? She really wanted to say goodbye, but it seems she just had something more important to do." The grin finally slips from Littlefinger's face then and turns into something of utter anger and hatred. Tyrion grins in victory before moving to step from the room, "Well, lots of work. Enjoy the Eyrie."


/////////////////////////////////////////////


Later in the day, Gabrielle finds herself working with Tyrion in his newest and nicer quarters within the same wing of the Red Keep as herself and Sansa. Sitting at the long table from which they strategized for the Battle of Blackwater Bay, they now find themselves focused on the rather extensive finances of her father. And though she's not necessarily needed by Tyrion, he soon became aware of her having penned said books for her father, feeling a need for her insight on the ways of the Master of Coin. So there she is, reading about one of her least favorite things, if only for an ally.

Bronn enters the room and provides needed relief in conversation soon after. Taking his seat beside Gabrielle and Tyrion and leaning over to read the rather endless array of numbers, he bluntly remarks, "Looks like dull reading."

"You think all reading is dull reading," Tyrion responds, not removing his eyes from the quandary depicted on this page.

Bronn just shrugs, "It's an opinion I share with some of the finest men I know."

"The secret history of the Seven Kingdoms is written in these pages," Tyrion sighs as he again tries to explain something to Bronn, finding himself distracted again as he compliments, "In such a pretty script, have I said that, my lady?"

Gabrielle rolls her eyes at the pestering of the dwarf, but teases back, "Just a few times, but always appreciated, milord."

"History," Bronn scoffs as Tyrion grins amusedly at the female. "...unless Lord Twatbeard made up a bunch of numbers to hide what he's really up to."

"Gabrielle Twatbeard...that has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" Gabrielle ponders, leaning back to her chair with a cheeky grin on her pretty face.

Tyrion just rolls his eyes and ignores her, turning to Bronn with, "Unless he made it all up, yes."

The imp stands and leaves the room then, followed after by Bronn and Podrick and leaving Gabrielle to her own studies of these books she endlessly wrote for her father. Intermittently dipping her quill into ink, she makes notes in the margins in order to help Tyrion process the ongoings of the Crown's coin, knowing she'd need them if she was given the same duty as Tyrion.

After a few minutes, Tyrion and Bronn return without Podrick, Gabrielle blindly rolling her eyes at the ideas of men, knowing where the squire's been sent to. Taking his seat back at the table, Tyrion rubs his forehead with tender irritation, remarking, "For years I've heard that Littlefinger is a magician. Whenever the crown needs money, he rubs his hands together and, poof: mountains of gold."

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