“Saints.” He pounded on his chest, wheezing. “What the fuck?” “Oh, yes. She has no sense of timekeeping, and she has unconventional seating preferences, don’t you, Human?” “I can sit there instead?” Carrion offered. “Absolutely not,” Kingfisher barked. “Try it and die.” “Whoa. Okay. I was just trying to keep the peace. If you guys need a buffer—” “We don’t,” Fisher fired back at him. “And even if we did, I’d ask someone far more likable than you. No!” He held up a finger, stabbing it at Carrion. “Do not tell me how likable you are back in Zilvaren. I don’t want to hear it.”
This is going to be the best dinner ever.
