Dragonstone 20

Chapter 20
We return to the present, where Alos says “This talk of Wizards and of Foul Folk, I don't like it.”
Arin wants to know if he “Has . . . aught against Magekind? Against the Rupt?” Why, no, I don't imagine Alos has any particular grievances against the race of inherently evil beings who exist solely to perform evil deeds and be fought by the good guys. It would be like asking if he has anything against influenza. \~/
Alos very conspicuously struggles to respond . . . and then someone's at the door. Arin apparently decides to blow off the old drunken geezer, because seriously, fuck him, right? \~/
Alos wants more wine. \~/
The knock at the door proves to be room service. Yes, really. It's a serving girl come with “th' noon meal,” because medieval five-star hotels offer medieval rooms service. I hope these people leave a good review on medieval Trip Advisor. \~/
The serving girl reacts to the sight of “the yellow woman.” \~/ 
After lunch, Egil refers to Arin as “Lady Engel,” which causes Samurai Chick to growl. Oh yes, a few chapters ago Samurai Chick insisted it was disrespectful for Egil to keep calling Arin by a cutesy nickname, which I can't argue with. Egil acknowledges this, noting that he gave his word and now has broken it twice. His explanation?
“ 'It's just that . . . just that” – he took a deep breath and then plunged on – 'you are my engel, Lady Arin.' ”
“Yes, I know I've broken my word and been disrespectful toward you, the woman who saved my life, my social better, and a Perfect Elf, but . . .eh, whatever.”
\~/\~/
“Of a sudden Arin felt her heart racing, and she turned her face from him and stared into the hearth as if seeking a portent, though no fire burned this warm day.”
If you think this reads like a bad fanfic, you're not wrong. \~/ It is a bad fanfic. And it's only going to get worse.
So Egil's oathbreaking and flagrant disrespect is . . . ignored. Because reasons. \~/
We get back to our story with the important visual of Alos dropping his mug of ale, “but it landed upright on its bottom, and although ale sloshed, none spilled out.”
GRIPPING!
Drinks: 9 
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