The title is Ser, Johnny. [ A distinction Jaime, the current Lord Commander of King Tommen the First's Kingsguard, had had to make countless times before, except it never seemed to stick in this man's mind (if he indeed had one that worked). One would assume the glinting, golden armour decorated with Baratheon antlers would give him away, but perhaps Jaime simply gave the man too much credit. Gods knew the fact he knew his name was already a big enough kindness he didn't deserve.

Still, Jaime approached his horse, gorgeous as the creature was with his gleaming white coat (matching Jaime's cloak, no less), and moved to take a brush and all the implements and saddle parts he needed. Jaime was one of the few with mounts at the royal stables that refused to rely on servants for these things; Cersei didn't approve of the filth, of course, but Jaime didn't care for dirt as much as he didn't trust easy. And he trusted even less with men like Johnny working there. ]

If you'd like a change in position, I'd suggest a consultation with the stable master. [ His horse pressed his nose to Jaime's gold hand, affectionate, and Jaime shushed him gently as he brushed his coat to a gorgeous shine. ] I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help you.

[ Not that Jaime cared enough to help, either. ]