The younger man claimed he was on his way to Elisinore. But he had ended up in Spain. And his travelling companion seems to have abandoned him. Interesting.
He was sitting at the table, eating food as if his life depended on it. Impressive still, as it was the basic provisions the four were surviving on. Berowne assumed he must have been travelling alone for quite some time, and that his companion, this Guildenstern, must have absconded with their food.
He watched him eat. The bread torn roughly by the hungry teeth. The cup gulped with abandon, thick rivulets of water running down his neck. He caught Berowne's eyes across the table, and shot him a cheeky grin, shoving another hunk of bread between his teeth. By now, the stranger seemed acutely aware of the effect he was having on him. He kept his eyes locked on Berowne's as he finished his food, and if he wasn't mistaken, the younger man was exaggerating the intensity with which he ate, recognising the look he was receiving from Berowne, who shifted in his seat, his eyes never leaving those of the newcomer.
The king looked unimpressed, his thoughts no doubt on the princess and her companions. But Berowne must admit that since the arrival of this newcomer, his mind had not strayed to Rosaline once. This Rosencrantz was proving an effective diversion; One that it might prove necessary to detain for the duration of this pledge.
Only contact with females was forbidden, after all.