You give too much credit assuming Prime Minister Baratheon reads anything. [ It was becoming a bit too easy insulting his boss-- easy enough that Jaime knew that at this rate, he really never would stop. He bit his tongue against saying anything especially incriminating about the thought of him stuck in the bathtub, but the thought of leaving him there to get drunk on wines and spirits... ] And you give too little credit thinking he wouldn't have my head for getting drunk without him.

[ Jaime didn't even get drunk. Of the three Lannister children, he was the only one acquainted with sobriety.

Robert Baratheon truly was a terrible leader, however. A shame, really, since he was a powerful revolutionary in his prime. Funny that it was only when he had the power to make change that he became too lazy to make any of those changes to begin with.

Unlike Alex, Jaime was satisfied taking a seat at the chair by the desk, its body turned so he was facing the rest of the room and the man that rifled through it. To Jaime, this was all standard fare-- there was nothing out of the ordinary he had to take note of-- but he supposed whatever absurd rituals Alex had to do warranted all of this.

Then he frowned, head tilting slightly as he considered where the house sigil might be seen. ] ...he might have newspaper clippings. [ And he had a picture of Lyanna Stark at his desk, and gods knew that Robert couldn't look at her without thinking of how desperately he wanted to kill the Targaryens. ]

Gods, [ because ancient as it was, the Lannisters had more attachments to the Light of the Seven than any version of Christianity ] he might have thousands of things.

Don't tell me I have to look through his belongings for all of them.

[ He will, won't he. ]