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, twentynine, 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.
We meet prequel (season 2 debuts June 16), we address the latest sign of the apocalypse: the magnitude 4.8 earthquake that hit the New York City area earlier that day. “We did not feel that,” says Mitchell with genuine FOMO. “We were getting dressed. Maybe because we were on one leg putting on trousers.”
