“I need a fucking minute,” Evert replies, looking pained. “Or a jump in a frozen lake.” Sylred narrows a thoughtful look at him. “Prince Elphar. Delsheen. The snake monster from the culling. Your mother. My mother. That gnome with the oozing nose—” Evert glares at him. “What the fuck?” He shrugs. “Did it help?” Evert tilts his head. “Yeah, a bit.” Sylred turns and starts walking away. “You’re welcome. Now come on, Stiff.” “It’s Stitch,” Evert bites back. His growl doesn’t cover up the laughter that follows him.
