The expatriate nervously glances up at the sharpshooter watching from up the chain. Come now, Mx. Kradik, he says. Surely all of them want the same thing--to ensure the safety and success of their wards.
Certainly, says the swordsmyd. But if the two of them wanted that, they really would have done better to join the Archaeological Society when the offer was made twenty-three seasons ago. Now their choice is, regrettably, simpler: get out of the way, or get hurt.
The maroon clenches ir fist around a dagger and asks what makes zir think this is going to end differently than last time? The swordsmyd can't afford to lose another eye.