The House of the Dragon brothers are having a smoke outside their hotel, looking like the most famous British rockers who never existed. There's Ewan Mitchell, twenty-seven, whose six-foot frame is hidden by a baggy black hoodie and sweatpants. At his side is Tom Glynn-Carney, twenty-nine, slightly shorter, looking proper as heck: newsboy cap, cords, the works. They're so perfectly, lazily, and hilariously draped against the Soho Grand's brick exterior that I expect someone to ask for an autograph thinking they're Cambridge Asylum (my name for their fictional band), not Aemond and Aegon Targaryen. |
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