So my friend asked me to wingman for his tinder date, was tired and almost cancelled but went anyways.
We meet up and I find out there are three of them not including his date. Whatever not an issue at all. Make introductions and exchange some pleasantries.
Bar hop a bit and after a couple drinks I’m making out with his dates sister at the bar while she’s rubbing my manhood (over my pants somewhat discretely).
She said we should get some privacy joking around and I go along with it. I slyly get the keys from my friend because he drove (while under constant scrutiny from his date). Make it to the car and do the dirty in the back seat.
40ish minutes later I get a call asking where I was (from my friend), no details but gave location.
They finally make it to the car, we exchange goodbyes and we leave.
“Three times the gods saw fit to test my vows. Once when I was a boy, once in the fullness of my manhood, and once when I had grown old. By then my strength was fled, my eyes grown dim, yet that last choice was as cruel as the first. My ravens would bring the news from the south, words darker than their wings, the ruin of my House, the death of my kin, disgrace and desolation. What could I have done, old, blind, frail? I was helpless as a suckling babe, yet still it grieved me to sit forgotten as they cut down my brother’s poor grandson, and his son, and even the little children … “
Jon was shocked to see the shine of tears in the old man’s eyes. "Who are you?” he asked quietly, almost in dread.
A toothless smile quivered on the ancient lips. “Only a maester of the Citadel, bound in service to Castle Black and the Night’s Watch. In my order, we put aside our house names when we take our vows and don the collar.” The old man touched the maester’s chain that hung loosely around his thin, fleshless neck. “My father was Maekar, the First of his Name, and my brother Aegon reigned after him in my stead. My grandfather named me for Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, who was his uncle, or his father, depending on which tale you believe. Aemon, he called me … ”
“Aemon … Targaryen?” Jon could scarcely believe it.
“Once,” the old man said. “Once. So you see, Jon, I do know … and knowing, I will not tell you stay or go. You must make that choice yourself, and live with it all the rest of your days. As I have.” His voice fell to a whisper. “As I have … ”