Oh great. Not this guy again. But hey, at least that means he wasn't creamed by those Darkwolf dudes. You frown for moment, but then force your lips to tilt upwards. It's cool. This guy saved your sorry butt, after all. Hopefully he's not mad or anything.
Sir Baumbard's rich voice rings out from somewhere above you. "Hail Sir Pent! My party seeks passage to Falconreach."
While they talk it out in increasingly older English, you strain your eyes in the darkness to try to root out evidence of a fight. It's weird. The grass and path seem as pristine as ever, and from what you can see, Sir Pent's armor is equally unblemished.
Strange. Sir Baumbard faced them and got totally messed up, hence why he's on the dragon. But then again, the Dragonlord retiree fought all of them at once, while it's possible Sir Pent only had to deal with a few.
You step forward, interrupting all the hences and ye oldes. "Hey, Sir Pent, what happened to all of the dudes who were chasing me?"
Like before, Sir Pent manages to express emotions rather clearly for being a suit of armor. This time, however, he radiates a feeling of smugness. "Those rogues were fools to face a knight of Oaklore in his own domain."
Sir Baumbard snorts before you have time to become awed. "Maiden, pay him no attention. Sir Pent simply pushed them into the gulf."
Oh. Well talk about a hope-crusher.
"So, two rooms, then?" You clarify, rubbing your arms outside of Serenity's Inn. "One for me and Samael, and one for you." Falconreach is really big. Since you've never hung around the magical side of town, you're not really sure how things work around here. But, predictably, this was the place Sir Baumbard wanted to stay for the night. He calls the shots for now because he's injured; if it were up to you, the group would be kicking it on the west side in a hotel somewhere.
But no. It's cobblestones and thatched roofs for all. Though, when you think about it, any normal hotel probably wouldn't let you guys in, especially if they saw Samael. Plups, people who wear armor (*cough*Sir Baumbard*cough*) have a habit of bringing pet monsters with them into the hotel. And monsters have a habit of screwing with the electricity and indoor plumbing. While this isn't a problem if they're kept in the inventory, some people are idiots.
Sir Baumbard, wrapped in bandages, looks outraged. "Absolutely not! The boy will bed with me tonight."
Jeez, he can sure be a prude sometimes. You're about to go along with it until Samael tightens his grip, claws digging into your tender hand flesh. Ouch. "Look dude, Samael is my responsibility. I'm going to be the one to look after him. Plus, he's only a kid, and plus, he doesn't really like you."
Harsh words, but screw it. You're freaking tired, okay?
Sir Baumbard's eyes are steely. "You know nothing about dragons or their young. I am simply looking out for your well-being."
What the heck is that supposed to mean!? Your irritation creeps a little closer to your brain than you originally intended. You roll your eyes and turn on heel, opening the door to the inn. "It's only for one night! We'll talk about it tomorrow!"
Behind you, the knight makes a sort of choking sound. "Lita! No, you don't understand-"
You wave a hand over your shoulder. "I understand plenty. You already ordered the rooms, right? We'll be the nearest one. Get well soon!"
Ignoring a disgustingly cheerful blonde chick at the counter, you claim your key with a few words and a well-placed glare. Jeez. The bags under your eyes must have bags under them as well.
Stairs stairs stairs, whoops don't fall, stairs stairs hallway door door door door with your number hell yes. Combat boot door kick! Ouch. Damn, okay. Insert key, jiggle it around for a bit before remembering you actually have to turn it, then combat boot door kick!
Oh yes. So cool.
Okay. Place check. No monsters? No monsters. No Darkwolf whatever-the-fucks? No Darkwolf whatever-the-fucks. Looks nice. Smells nice. Clean wooden floors, a dresser, a wardrobe, and oh Lore is that a white fluffy bed?
You hook your arm around Samael's waist. Heheheh, why is he looking at you funny? Oh well. Funnnnnn tosssssss~! A Samael goes flying across the room, and lands with a whuff on top of the blankets. Silly dragon.
You want to join him, but agh, these heavy clunky things on your feet won't come off for some reason. No matter how much you tugtugtug... tugtug... tug... Fuck it. You yank your t-shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere to your left. You have an undershirt, Samael can deal.
You stumble around a bit before remembering where exactly you're headed. Oh yeah. Bed. You're calves hit the edge of the wooden frame, and you go ahead and flop onto the quishy fluffy cloud heaven.
The world blacks out almost immediately.
Agh, but wait, not... AGH! Jeez, why is it so freaking hot? You twist and squirm under the covers, but it's not too soon until you bump into something solid. Damn, small bed. But seriously, you're going to start sweating if you can't get these things off of you! You flip over, but your head thunks into a wall or something. Agh. Doesn't hurt, but talk about annoying. It's probably the universe trying to tell you to get your lazy bum out of bed.
Jeez, fine. It's not like you like sleep or anything. You reluctantly peel your eyes open, preparing yourself for an onslaught of light.
Cue jarring shock number four. Well. Maybe that wasn't a wall you bumped into, after all.
A pair of liquid gold eyes are mere inches from your own. There is a person lying in bed with you. WHELP. YOU'D BE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW IF NOT FOR THE FACT THAT it's obviously Samael.
Your noses are nearly brushing, and your arms are tucked in between the two of you, your hand wayyyy too close to his chin. His... angular... chin... What. The fuck?