Sean woke up with a grumble, having enough mental facilities to check how long he’d been asleep. Only an hour, but it had been enough for his high Constitution to go through the alcohol and start a hangover. Apparently.

It only lasted for a few minutes thankfully, helped a bit by the gallon of water that had been placed on his bedside table. Most likely Hops had done the deed, though another thought ran through his head as he stared down at the empty pitcher. Also could have been Roge.

A part of him broke at interacting with the new dragon, him being so much like the old Roge that Sean couldn’t tell at first. He liked the new assertiveness, as well as Roge seeming to strangely have a fountain of creativity to engineer the grappling vines. He always loved that spark in Roge’s eyes, though that spark had dimmed in the recent years. Sean had gotten more busy at the Guild when they had reached Silver and thus had less time to spend with his friends outside of his Party. Roge had grown more distant then, and Sean had hated that. He knew his feelings were slowly encroaching on a crush, but he’d not cared. He’d seen the lingerings of want in the dragon and was prepared to ask for more.

And now Roge had no memory of him. He also was now a part of their Party, though having lower Status members in a team had been frowned upon. Too much room for exploitation. Sean had not cared. Roge needed him and there was no way he was going to let the dragon down, even if he had to break his own heart along the way.

Getting up from his bed, Sean quickly cleaned himself up, knowing he had promised Madam Madrid a shift tonight. It was only a means to an end on his part and he always woke up safe and sound the next day. Didn’t matter to him if he didn't remember the encounters, as long as he saved up more money for him and his team, the means would justify the end.

~---~

Roge woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache, apparently a leftover from his jaunt into a wall the previous day. Either that or a small hangover from the wine he’d drank the previous night before sleeping for twelve hours. Either way, he mused his morning coffee should help, trundling down the stairs after getting ready for the day. He’d been given a new set of adventuring clothes at the Guild, a sturdier tan shirt, baggy, black leather pants and snakeskin boots that felt more comfortable than any he’d previously worn. He’d also opted for a blue cloak after finding his Armor would go over any clothing he wore to disguise it, the color perfectly matching the sapphire scales on his belly and neck.

He didn’t don his Leaf Armor quite yet, however, wanting to preserve his Magic stores for the training they were going to do that day. He also looked over his stores of coin, debating with himself on whether or not to buy an Alchemy lesson. It would be a great fit for his magical plants, sidestepping some of the process to get magical effects out of normal plants. His musing was interrupted however, when a familiar voice sprang up from across the ground floor.

“Yo Roge! Nice gear you got there!” Fred cried out, his wolf-like face looking almost identical to an excited puppy. As he got closer, the wolfkin’s eyes widened at the shape nestled in the hood of his cloak. “New Class I take it?”

“Yup. You’re now looking at one of the newer members of the Guild,” he stated, sitting down and chuckling at Fred’s stunned expression. “Didn’t you recognize the Guild gear?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah.” Fred gloomily looked at his food, feinting a pout at that news. “Now you’ll have less time to spend with me.”

Roge raised his eyeridges at that, the expression still feeling odd with how it pulled his face differently. “I’ll still be here almost every morning, barring a long trip every once in a while. Stop pouting, it looks too cute.” Fred started pouting more at that, if that were even possible, Roge grabbing the coffee cup that had been delivered without even looking up. “And besides, I still need some team training before we can…”

“Roge,” a quiet voice gruffed beside him, causing the dragonkin to flinch at the hurt he could hear in that one syllable. Looking up at the other dragonkin standing beside him, Roge, could barely meet his eyes before looking to the side.

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“Hey Dad,” he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee to avoid saying anything more.

His dad sighed at this, sitting down at the third chair at the table as Fred looked awkwardly between them. “First your sister and now you? Are all of my kids going to turn into adventurers at some point?” he asked rhetorically, Arthur Youngston giving Roge a sad smile. “Couldn’t you have told me this before you actually signed up?”

“I… I knew you were going to object to it if I did,” Roge stated quietly.

“Better to ask for forgiveness huh?” his father chuckled, his wings rustling on his back. “Could have at least waited until after you were thirty. I’d feel better if your wings had grown in before you were sent off into dangerous situations.” Roge almost started at that, but kept his reactions mostly under control. He thought it had been a quirk of genetics that he hadn’t grown any wings. Apparently he just wasn’t done growing yet.

“I do have a few tricks up my sleeve along with a new Class. Plus Sean’s team is all Silver, so I should be safer with them.” The look of exasperation on his dad’s face hinted at his thoughts to that. “We’ll be fine.”

“Alright. But you have to be the one to tell your mother.” Roge flinched at that, not looking forward to that moment. “She’s busy in the kitchen with that catering order today, but she should have time tonight.” He didn’t need to see the notification pop up to know that’d be a quest, Roge sighing as he nodded. “Alright. I need to get back to work. Have fun training today son.” His dad patted him on the back, jostling Courage who gave out an irritated squeak. “I’ll have Tan send out an extra large helping for your Familiar.”

As the large dragonkin walked away, Roge slumped onto the table, sliding his coffee so as to not face-plant on it. “That’s going to be fun. Is there any way I can bribe you to tell her?” he asked Fred, peeking an eye open to see the vigorous head shake.

“I’m not taking that fireball for you dude,” he muttered quietly, obviously trying to make sure his voice didn’t carry. “Your mom would gather up her fellow churchgoers just to curse me if I did that.” He then got up from the table, leaving a few coppers on the table for the tip. “See ya later buddy, if you’re not ash by then.”

~---~

Roge grunted as he swung another fist at the punching bag, having gotten to the Guild building early after visiting the smoke shop and deciding to try some training on his own. He’d stripped down to just his pants and boots, steam misting off of his scales as he overheated. He kept calm though, breathing in and out at a steady pace and trying to cycle his Magic through his body. After asking briefly on what physical Class he could potentially pick up, and finding out he could use any skill he wanted from either Class without penalties, he decided to try and get the Monk Class for himself to help with using his grapple vines in combat. Apparently the class didn’t care what you used to attack, as long as it was a part of the body, Roge chuckling at the disgusted look on the dwarf’s face when he’d said that.

He hadn’t known that picking an active class only changed what was displayed when someone used Inspect, though now that he knew he was tempted to try out all of the basic Classes to see what kinds of Multi-classing options he could get from them. Maybe he could even try for a plant sword to swing at his enemies.

He’d been so distracted by the rhythm of his punches and his own thoughts that he jumped when he heard a “Hey,” behind him, twirling around and nearly decking Sean while the tiger dodged out of the way.

“What the fuck man?” Roge gasped, consciously trying to get his body to relax as his tail thumped against the punching bag in irritation. “Come into my view first or something.”

“Sorry,” the tigerkin chuckled, looking not even the least bit apologetic. “I didn’t think you were that far into it. Why the sudden interest in physical training?”

Roge huffed out a breath at the question, slowly unwrapping his hands so he could start to get dressed. “Trying to get the Monk Class so my vines can be used as better weapons,” he muttered distractedly, wincing at the cracked and darkened scales, having obviously bruised himself with the training. “I was told to meditate while training in unarmed combat, though they did mention that I shouldn’t use my vines at first. Could potentially get me a Fighter or Whip Master Class instead, neither of which I plan to get right now as Monk has dodging Skills I want to grab.” He’d barely gotten the first wrap off of his left hand when he noticed Sean nodding and unstrapping his sword from the belt.

“I can help with that,” the tigerkin stated, shucking his shirt off to the distraction of the dragon. He somehow looked larger without the baggy shirt than with it, his fur turning from orange and black to cream at his chest. “Let’s get to the ring.” He then turned around to head towards the fighting ring the gym had, allowing Roge to start and follow him after a brief gaze at the tiger’s wide shoulders. They both grabbed some boxing gloves the Guild had for use before stepping in, Roge with a bit more wariness than Sean.

“I feel like I’m going to get knocked out again,” he commented as he watched Sean get into position, trying to not get distracted again.

“You’ll be fine. No Skill use for either of us and I won’t attack much. We’ll get you into a meditative combat mentality and focus on getting a punch past my gloves.”