Lionel was done pretending this was okay.
“There’s no time to summon Owen,” he said with a growl, leaning on the table. “Even if this letter gets through, by the time he arrives, it could be too late.”
Bandits had been plaguing Great Scar, his home, for the past few weeks now. They’d threatened harm if the townspeople tried to ask for help, and were too well armed to fight back against. Or at least they claimed to be—nobody had dared challenge them yet.
Decurion wanted to see Murph’s dads exponentiating dad jokes. Enjoy!
“So,” Pierre asked, kneeling on a bar stool and leaning way too far over the bar. “When are you and Murph going to get married?”
Odin dropped a glass, which fortunately only hit the counter and didn’t break. “Shut up. We’re not getting married, we’re just friends, you dumb loser.”
“Don’t call me a loser!” Pierre said, scowling, but only for a second. “And you’re not just friends if you get a boner every time he walks in the room.”
“It’s not every time, it’s only most of the time,” Odin muttered. “We’re friends. We hang out sometimes. And talk about stuff, like bandits and carpentry and eggs.” They both agreed that eggs were weird.
Pierre nodded. “And when you’re not talking about swords and wood and making babies, you imagine you’re kissing him, right?”
atever they were going to do, so Odin always liked to be doing that in case someone new came into the Trapper’s Hunt, and it turned out to be the start of some grand quest where he could maybe be a supporting character. He’d been practicing his swordplay lately, so he thought he’d make a good adventurer, or maybe even a knight like his cousin was, according to his letters.
(Reposting the old Other Boys chapter as chapter 1 of this new story!)
Nikkie asked to see something with Murph in it, so here you go!
Bartenders in stories were always washing glasses behind the bar when the main characters came in to do whatever they were going to do, so Odin always liked to be doing that in case someone new came into the Trapper’s Hunt, and it turned out to be the start of some grand quest where he could maybe be a supporting character. He’d been practicing his swordplay lately, so he thought he’d make a good adventurer, or maybe even a knight like his cousin was, according to his letters.
Odin couldn’t really justify leaving his aunt and uncle to run the inn on their own even if they insisted he wasn’t beholden to them, though. But if there like, some kind of emergency that forced him to embark on a life of adventure that just coincidentally meant he had to sleep with a bunch of like, hot sorceresses or noble girls or something, that would be totally different.
So Odin liked to wash the glasses.
How Best to Use a Sword 