My head rests heavily in my hands, my elbows are planted on the smooth oak table. A warm buzz of chatter and laughter fills the air, it’s lunchtime and business is good at the Sunset Inn. Someone places a pitcher of water on the table heavily and I groan and squint up to see my father sitting across the table, pouring me a glass.
"Here, have some of this. It should help," my dad offers me the water. I shake my head, refusing. The thought makes my stomach start to riot. "I have told that man over and over," he says. "Wood and metal is fine for a practice dummy!! But, no, no. He needs an alchemist to create the perfect gelatin substrate to mimic muscle, ligaments, tendons, and even organs. I mean –"
“I will hurl on you. I’ll do it. Keep talking, you’ll see.”
"Oh, right. Sorry, sorry." He puts his hands up, placating. "Don't feel bad. Those cobbles have been painted with many, many breakfasts. Good thing you only had tea this morning, right?"
“Dad –”
“Right, sorry.” He mimes the act of zipping his mouth shut.
I look around the Inn. The place has a fascinating mix of artisans, apprentices, laborers, instructors, and guards.
“Why did I react like that?” I ask the universe out loud, incredulous.
“Many people do.” He shrugs, “I did too.”
“Really?”
"Yes. Well, not because of a frighteningly realistic mannequin, no. But – how familiar are you with how people gain their Class? Like how the adventurer's guild helps you unlock it."
"Pretty familiar. You train with your weapon, then kill a monster, and the experience you gain grants you your Class," I say.
“Right, but how does a Classless person kill a leveled monster? If you just put them in a ring against each other, the monster wins almost every time. They have an innate synergy with their natural weapons, and some beasts already have a Skill. No, too risky."
"Okay," I say. "Then the guild must send a whole group of newbies against a monster." I guess. "Or pair them up with a veteran; that way, they can share the experience, but the novice still isn't in danger."
“It’s a good idea. The problem is with the way levels work. You know how I need to make a huge sale to reach green in my profession?”
I nod.
"That XP barrier exists between being classless and level one. Also, you need a sudden burst of experience to gain your first level. Like you did to get the shopkeeper profession, you didn't just get it the first time you made a sale. It took you making that big deal with the Fellers, a whole wardrobe, that was enough to get you level one. Each time you change color, from grey to blue or blue to green, that experience barrier is something you have to overcome. So, if a veteran and a novice fought together, they would have to fight something really nasty for the novice to get enough experience. Plus, the novice would have to really contribute to the fight.” He spreads his hands. “See? Still too dangerous.”
“Okay, then how do they do it?” I ask, giving up.
"It depends, but mostly… by hobbling the monster somehow. Some places drug them or injure them so that the adventurer still has a bit of a fight. Others restrain a healthy beast and have the newbie deal a death blow."
“That sounds awful.”
“They’re monsters, Noelle. If they came upon you in the woods, they would kill you without a thought." He looks up, then leans back in his chair. “Here, the stew is ready. Eat. It’s lamb.” A pretty waitress drops off two bowls before spinning back to the kitchens.
We eat quietly for a while. The first bite takes some self-motivation, but the moment it touches my tastebuds, all my hesitation vanishes. I am hungry; my next spoonful is a big one.
“Slow down, love. Nobody will take the bowl from you.”
As we eat, I find myself thinking about what he said. I don’t want to kill a prepared beast, even if it would kill me if the roles were reversed. It doesn't feel right. It's killing in cold blood, stabbing it from a distance while others wrangle it into place.
When we finished, my dad ordered us some pie. Surprisingly, I find myself looking forward to a slice, this Inn does a great fruit pie. My dad resumes his story.
"When I went to the adventurer's guild across the street, I was your age," he says. "They had a batch of Fire Newts; some trapper caught them the week before," he waves his hand dismissively. "So that's what all of us were placed up against. Mine was level two, and they had removed a leg and the tail. It was awful, the sound alone. I got sick after. It just felt so wrong."
I find myself nodding in agreement. He continues.
"At Godfrey's, your body felt what it would be like to kill a person; it's why Godfrey ordered these in the first place. Knowing exactly how a spear or arrow will interact with an enemy's muscles and bones is helpful. But it is also good for aspiring adventurers to feel just how awful killing feels. It turns quite a few of them off the path. They return to their trades, marry their childhood sweetheart, farm, whatever."
"That's pretty fucked up. Godfrey seems like a nice guy."
"He is. It's better than them getting into the career and being unable to deal a killing blow, that could cost your life. It is good to learn some things in a safe environment."
I sit with that for a little.
“So, I failed?” I ask, nervous.
“Do you still want to be an adventurer? Do you still want to go to the Capital?”
"Yes"
“Then you pass,” He replies confidently. “Life is all about how you handle the rough patches. Can you wipe the blood off and jump back into the melee?” He meets my eyes then.
I nod, and our conversation peters out. We are both lost in thought until the pie comes and then we jump right back into the melee, spoons drawn.
----------------------------------------
Laney’s Leatherworks has an altogether different feel than Godfrey’s Metal N’Stuff. The shop itself is larger, and I can’t see anywhere in the back where a workshop might be hiding.
“Is there a tanning area somewhere where they prepare the hides?” I ask.
“Tanning is a stinky business, there are regulations about the practice. Most of it occurs at the edges of town, and even then, only when the wind is blowing the right direction” he waves his hand in front of his nose as if warding off the smell.
“doesn’t smell bad to me,” I mumble, reaching out to touch a harness nearby.
“Earl!” I hear a shout from deeper in the shop.
I look up and see a small woman giving my dad a side hug. Her hair is red and falls to her shoulders. Her gaze is sharp.
"It's good to see you, old man," she says enthusiastically.
Meticulous Leathercrafter - Level 19
“It’s good to see you too, Laney. This is my daughter.” He steps aside to reveal me.
“Hi, I’m Noelle”
"I'm Laney. This is my shop."
“It’s really nice, my dad says your work stinks, but I think it smells nice in here” I look around, admiring all the different ways leather can be shaped to be useful. My attention is barely on the conversation, there is just so much to look at.
“My work stinks?" she turns to my dad and asks, an edge of accusation in her voice. But my attention is drifting, I take a few steps over to a wall covered in diverse armor sets. Some of them are fully leather, others a mixture of leather and metals. They are different sizes, different designs. I run my fingers along a chestpiece with metal studs embedded in the pauldrons. My dad pulls me out of my reverie, I guess they have been arguing about something.
“Noelle, please help me out here. Tell her what I told you.”
“Hmm? What?” I drag my attention back to the conversation. “That tanning stinks?" I say absently, moving over to look at the intricately designed rack of helmets and picking up one that has decorative horns. The base of the helmet is leather, with steel accents that look decorative as well as protective. I look in a mirror and fit it on my head, it's a bit loose.
“NOELLE!!”
“WOAH, WHAT?” I react, surprised. “Chill out, I’m just trying it on!"
“No, ugh. Pay attention! You just now told her that I said, ‘her work stinks.’”
I don't understand. I give him a confused look, he did say that though. Laney is smiling widely at me.
“No--” my dad starts again, but Laney interrupts him.
"I like you, kid, a straight shooter, unlike your lying old dad. Come on, he tells me that you're interested in a set of armor. Or is that a lie, too?" she wraps an arm over my shoulder and guides me to a counter at the back of the shop.
"No, I do need armor," I say, confused by the previous interaction. I look over my shoulder at my dad. What is wrong with you? Why are you being so weird?!
He has both hands resting on his head as he follows us silently. When our eyes meet, he flips me off with both hands. What the hell, dude?
“Okay, measurement time,” Laney announces. “While I’m working, tell me exactly what you’re looking for.” I turn to my dad, looking for him to take the lead like he did with Godfrey. He looks back at me with ire, gesturing for me to go ahead and tell her.
"Um … I need armor. I'm going to the Capital in a week!" I say.
"That's so exciting! You should check out the Guild Games while you're down there."
“What’s that?”
“It’s like competitions between adventurers. Fights, and races, and stuff. It’s a lot of fun to watch.”
“Cool! Maybe I can compete too!”
"Probably not on this trip. You're a little too fresh to the adventuring game. It's better to get some real experience before jumping in with those wack-jobs.” She says gruffly.
“What do you want the armor to feel like?” She asks me.
"I like the leather," I say quickly, unsure how to guide the conversation. I don't know anything about armor.
“Okay, good start. Do you have a weapon?”
"Yes, a dagger, Godfrey's making it now."
"Very cool, I can make the sheath match the armor when he's done. Do you know what weapon you want when you get your Class? A dagger is good to have on your hip but it's no Warhammer" she says chuckling.
"I think, a sword, maybe. Something light and sharp. Maybe two swords?" I imagine swinging dual swords at an enemy.
“Alright, well you don't have to know right now. I have your measurements. Just a few more questions. You’ve looked around, what colors do you like?”
“Of the leather?” I ask, she nods. “The brown leather, that warm brown over there, and the dark brown there too. Maybe something with both?” I ask.
"Yeah, I can do that," she says. My dad picks that moment to chime in. He must be feeling left out.
"She needs to be able to sleep in it too. She is going to be on the –"
"Yeah, I'm getting there, you dirty, ugly, stupid old man. Lay off, we're working here." She turns back to me, where he can't see her face, and shows a smile bordering on full-blown laughter. My dad throws his hand up and turns around, walking away from us in a huff.
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"Sorry," Laney says to me, laughing brightly now that he's gone. "I so rarely get a good chance to fuck with him. He is so clever and quick. When you get a win, you really have to make him feel it," she makes a stabbing gesture, still smiling, and looks back at my dad's retreating form and then back to me. "Do you want a helmet? Anything to protect that pretty dome?" She pats my head affectionately.
"Um, yes? I think so." I find myself smiling too. She is sweet and mischievous in a way that makes her seem younger.
"It's a good thing to have. You never know when you will find yourself in a pitched battle. And it doesn't have to be a huge hunk of metal that wouldn't fit the armor. No, what if I made a leather hood lined with wool? It wouldn't be as protective as a steel helmet, but it would still shed much damage from a glancing blow."
“That would be great!” I am going to look so fucking cool!
“Fantastic! I am going to get to work on it tonight. Godfrey and I will get together and have one of our apprentices deliver it to your shop later this week. Noelle, it was a pleasure to meet you. Give your dad hell if you get the chance.”
"Oh, I always do," I say, reaching to shake her hand. Then, turn and leave the sweet smell of the leather shop behind.
When I step outside, I see my dad leaning up against the shop wall. He is looking up at the edge of the roof where the occasional droplet of water gathers and then falls right onto his shoulder. He doesn’t seem interested in avoiding the droplets, only observing them.
"I LIKE HER!" I shout next to his face.
"Fuck, Noelle!" he exclaims.
“Oh, sorry," I play innocent.
He huffs once. “You done in there?”
"Yeah, she and Godfrey will work on it together and get everything over to us in a few days. They are going to send an apprentice to bring it." His countenance lightens a bit at the update.
“Oh, well, that’s nice of them. That Laney was in fine form today.” He shakes his head from side to side.
"Yeah, I think she likes you," I say. He frowns. "I mean, I think she really likes you, like, she like-likes you."
“Really?” He asks, turning back to look at her store. “No kidding?” he mumbles.
I raise my eyebrows, but I decide to be diplomatic this once. Though I promised the pretty leatherworker I would give him hell, I think I'll let this one slide. Laney would understand.
----------------------------------------
Our next stop is a store carrying adventuring gear, where we can purchase all sorts of miscellaneous items that I probably won't need. But it is better to be safe. My dad takes the lead here, grabbing a wax-coated backpack and filling it with all sorts of gear. I see him throw a light stone in there, a med kit, and some rope. But he is moving fast, and my eyes are drawn to the potions and various forms of ammunition. Looking back, I see he's checking out with the shopkeeper.
He hands me a sling bag on our way out the door, it's a thin leather pouch with a strap to secure it.
"For the money you'll be carrying," he says. "To keep it safe while you travel. Put it on now, across your chest," he gestures with his thumb, from shoulder down to hip. "You need to get used to wearing it. Most of the time, it will be there over your clothes but under your armor. We will give you some other coins to hold in a purse on your side, but the money in the sling bag will never be taken out. Ever. When you meet with Bengt, you will hand him the whole bag. the coins never leave, okay?" He gives me a direct look and waits for my response.
"I hear you. What about when I bathe?" I joke.
"The bag stays with you, put it under your clothes at the edge of the water. Bathe alone if it is safe, or with one or two people you trust. Don't let it out of your sight, put it back on as soon as possible," he says, taking my playful question seriously.
"Okay, I'll be careful with it."
"Good, but don't forget, it's not more important than your life. If you are bathing and a Stone Bear comes out of the woods, run and don't look back. It's just money." He smiles at me then. "And part of our deal is that you stay safe. Plus," he adds. "What would the bear want with some gold? No, you could just wait and go back for it later." He puts an arm over my shoulder as we walk home together.
We are both exhausted, by the time we arrive back. We eat a quick dinner and go to bed without playing our nightly Tlack game.
"We need the sleep," dad says. "Tomorrow, the nobles come to spend some of their excessive wealth" He waggles his eyebrows at me.
I sleep like the dead until I am woken by a familiar knocking at my bedroom door. The sun hasn't risen yet, but it will soon, and there is much work to do. I get dressed and go downstairs to find my father has already organized all the new robes and finery in the front of the shop. He is running over the hardwood floor with a broom.
"Good morning!" He calls out, not pausing his task. "Go down to the bathhouse now, before everyone wakes up. Then, put on your best outfit. Appearances matter with this crowd."
“Why only me? Did you go already?”
“Yes, I have been up for hours. Preparation is key, remember? This is why you can never beat me in Tlack, no foresight. Hurry!” He starts sweeping towards me, driving me out the door.
By the time I wash and dress myself, the sun has already peeked over the horizon. Our street is bustling with activity. I walk into the shop and see my dad wiping down the counters.
“How does it look out there?” He asks.
"It's busy, mostly just us merchants, though."
"Okay, what am I forgetting?" he asks himself and then looks at me pointedly. "Well?" turning the question to me. I shrug. "Noelle! Help me out. What am I missing?"
“Nothing! The place looks good! Damn," I say.
“Have you even looked at it? Go! take a lap around." He pushes me into the shop, "Look for anything out of place. Think, girl. I’m sure I’ve missed something.”
“Okay, OKAY! I’ll look around.” I say, trying to mollify him.
"Good," he pops open the money box and begins counting coins. No doubt, he is trying to ensure that we have enough to make change for any order, no matter how large.
The store looks great. There is nothing out of place. It looks clean, and all our best and most stylish clothing and fabrics are on display. He is paranoid, though it is hard to blame him. The nobles from the Capital only come through our trade district twice a year, and they come through with a LOT of money.
I see a sparkle on the ground under a display shelf. I reach down and pick up a stone. It's a white Tlack piece from our set upstairs. I look at him over the displays and hold up the smooth quartz, "Is this supposed to be a test?" I ask.
"Yes, and you pass," he says before returning to the lockbox.
"This is weird, dad. You're losing your grip," I yell across the shop.
We hear hollering from the street. I poke my head outside and see the winding group of nobles begin to trickle down from the high end of town. They walk in groups of twos, threes, and fours. Mostly families.
We push the doors open, and I stand outside to greet people as they walk by. Then, almost before I realize it, we have our first customers. The day has begun.
In the morning, the noble families come in and talk to us. They asked about outfits and furnishings, recommendations for eateries, and where to get their weapons sharpened. Our shop is a regular stop for most of these families, and our finery is better than anything you will find elsewhere. We make out quite well.
After lunch, there are fewer families coming through, but still a couple. Then, in the evening, the demographics of the shoppers change noticeably. Now it is mostly the students who are out shopping, in small groups.
It happens every year as though it were planned. The parents go off to have some alone time or whatever. And the teenagers get to spend some time with their soon-to-be classmates. The groups are mainly respectful boys and girls who want to go out and buy something fashionable for the Acceptance Celebration later this week.
On occasion, we will get a rowdier group, typically made up of boys. One such group just entered the shop. Two boys, both well dressed, but a faint aroma of spirits hangs around them. They've been drinking.
"This place is a fucking dump," one of them says. Loud enough to draw my attention. I walk closer, stepping quietly but not hiding. What does this asshole look like?
" -- I was going to wear it to the formal. But, one stupid laborer forgets to seal the trunk, and BAM!" He slams his hand on the wall. "Mold. Fucking mold! I won't show up smelling like fucking mold— Oh, hi," he jumps a little when he notices me. His dark hair is mussed in the back, he is handsome, and he has a thin nose that looks like it would break easily. His face is slightly flushed, likely from a mixture of alcohol and heat. He looks at me up and down once, then dismisses me and returns back to the clothing rack. Must not like what he sees – the feeling is mutual.
Toxic Mage – Level 13
Ha, more like intoxicated mage. I chuckle to myself and then adopt a more professional demeanor. As much as I want to thump this asshole, it would be better if I could take some of his money and let him loose. With a face like that, life will thump the shit out of him eventually, anyway; all good things come in time.
"Mold is the absolute worst," I say, my voice consoling. "Is there anything I can help you replace?"
"No," he scoffs. "There's nothing here for me," he lifts the sleeve of a robe, disgust plain on his face. His companion is a tall, blonde guy. He has a rougher appearance, and he doesn't look like nobility. I notice a small chip in his tooth as he smiles politely at me.
Frozen Spearman – Level 11
"Sorry, his formal robes were ruined. He's trying to replace them," the blonde says. He turns to his friend, the Toxic Mage. "Come on, Ichor, if you don't see anything you like, that's fine. Let's go look somewhere else." Well, at least they aren't both assholes.
“I’m not going anywhere," says the mage. "I'm going to find the needle in this shit stack if it fucking kills me." Okay, this asshat is more fucked up than I thought, hah, lightweight. Let’s see if I can make that work for me. I activate my Shroud Intent skill and touch his shoulder lightly.
"Excuse me, sir?" He turns, and I dip my head. "I'm sorry, our humble shop doesn't live up to the accommodations you are accustomed to in the Capital." I try to affect a more formal speaking pattern. "And unfortunately, because the Prince arrived with your group … we were forced to set aside our finest formal wear for the new wardrobe he is putting together. I am so sorry.” His ears perk up at that. Bite the lure, baby, bite it!
“D’I hear that right? You have better shit than--” he gestures around himself. “This … but it’s all tucked away for Bran?" he asks. I can see the spark of anger light slowly behind his booze-addled eyes.
"Bran?" I respond. He calls the Prince by his first name? Is that okay? "The Prince? Yes, he and the Queen are coming later this week."
His friend starts to turn him away, "Come on, man, stop causing a scene." But Ichor, the drunk mage, brushes off the hand roughly.
“Don't," he says to the blonde spearman, pointing a finger up to his face. Then he turns back to me, "Show me the clothes?” he slurs. It doesn't sound like a question.
“I’m sorry, I really can’t—” I start.
“Show me the clothes now.” He says, the entitlement smells almost as strong as the liquor. I look around the shop briefly to make sure my dad sees us. He does, he gives me a subtle nod as he talks to a group of young girls by the scarves.
"Okay—okay," I stammer, "This way." I lead them to the back of the shop and open the door to the storeroom. I am confident that my father will disengage his conversation with the shoppers and follow us to the back. His overprotectiveness has it's uses sometimes.
I stop at the rack of formal robes that my dad accidentally purchased from his eccentric friend. The clown clothes. Now that I am seeing them again, I don’t think my little prank will work. But I’ve come this far.
"Here they are, sir," I say quietly, acting nervous.
“These?” he asks. “Ha! They are awful! Bran wouldn’t wear any of this!” He looks back at his friends for support. The blonde spearman steps forward, touching the patterned fabric appraisingly. I knew it. They are just too fuckin' ugly. Who would believe that the Prince would want these? Maybe the Prince's jester would like them.
"The quality is excellent," he says consideringly. "Silk?" he asks. He winks subtly at me, the humor in his blue eyes seems to twinkle. I hide my surprise with lots of help from my Shroud Emotions skill. Is he playing along?
“It's a blend,” I tell them both. “Silk and Wyvern wool,” The friend whistles in appreciation, and I see the asshole giving it a second look. He pushes the friend aside and steps back up to the rack, shuffling through it roughly.
"Please be careful, sir," I say, my voice distressed. "Oh man, I'm going to get fired," I mumble in a stage whisper. I'm a fantastic actor. I really missed my calling.
‘I suppose some of these are … passable, the colors are loud, but—”
“What’s going on back here?” My dad asks suddenly, stepping into the room.
"Oh, boss," I say, letting panic enter my voice. I babble. "I didn't know what to do. The customer was looking for formal robes. I mentioned that we were forced to set some aside for the Prince, and he insisted on seeing them. I'm so sorry. Please don't fire me." I lower my head and do my best to appear contrite. He pauses momentarily, taking in the scene, then steps forward.
"Now, Noelle. I'm not going to fire you." He says gently, "You were just trying to help our customers." He pats my head gently, his eyes full of mirth at my scheme. "Okay, sir." He turns to the nobles, "Let's go. These robes aren't for you." He says brusquely, stepping to the side and motioning for them to leave the stockroom.
“These are for Bran?" Ichor asks, his voice seeming to drip with acid.
“For the Prince? Yes. And you would do well to address him properly, lest he hear of the slight,” Damn dad! Look at them fancy words. Ichor ignores the admonishment.
"I want one," he says.
“I don't know ... ” my dad starts, running a hand through his hair, but his tone allows for negotiation. Now I see where I get all my acting skills.
“What’s your price?” The intoxicated mage asks, sensing weakness.
"These are set aside for the prince," my dad says.
"He doesn't need all of them. I just want one." He replies. My dad pauses, hand on his chin, as if deep in thought.
"Okay," he says finally. "You're right. He doesn't need all of them. But the best robes will stay here. It's my reputation on the line, boy. You understand?" There is an unyielding tone in his voice as he sets that boundary.
"Sure, okay," Ichor says quickly, happy to have won and wary after hearing my father's tone.
My dad picks out one seemingly at random. It is a bright yellow and green swirl that extends throughout the robe. I hold in a laugh behind my hand.
"This one, I can part with," my dad says, holding it up to the light.
Ichor reaches over to the spearman and shakes his shoulders, excited. “That’s my favorite! The family colors,” he reaches out and offers a gold coin to my father.
My dad pulls the robe back, "two gold," he says.
“For one robe?”
"The prince would pay four." My dad replies, and the negotiation begins. One gold is a lot of money for a formal robe, more than we sell them for out on the floor. As I am mentally celebrating my victory, the blonde spearman approaches me.
"Noelle, right?" he asks. I nod and take his offered hand. "I'm Leo. That was well handled. You're a force to be reckoned with." My face heats up a little, our hands still clasped. His hand feels heavy and smooth with calluses.
"Nice to meet you, Leo," I manage. "How do you know my name?" I ask. My eyes flick over to the negotiation between the noble and my father. My dad has noticed our conversation and winks at me knowingly.
"Your boss mentioned it earlier," he says.
"He's actually my dad," I say quickly. "He owns the place."
"Oh," he says with realization in his tone, "that explains how he picked up on your little game so quickly. You guys pull stunts like this often?" He asks, sounding genuinely impressed and not at all concerned that I just fleeced his friend.
"Only when people talk shit about our shop," I say to him. I remember now that this guy, as lovely as he seems, entered our store with Ichor. "Is he your friend?" I ask, raising my eyebrow at him. It's his turn to flush now. He puts his palm to his forehead and sighs.
"No, and I'm sorry about him, we just met yesterday." he leans over and whispers, "he is actually my roommate." Then turns his back to Ichor and shows me a grimace.
"Oh wow," I start to chuckle at his misfortune, which makes him smile. Unfortunately, that smile is killed by Ichor's raised voice.
"Leo, let's go! We got what we came for," he hollers impatiently. Leo lets out a big sigh.
"Well, I guess I better get this guy out of your hair," he says, walking over to Ichor and the door. He turns back to me, walking backward for a few steps. "I hope I see you again, Noelle." He says, winking, before turning to leave with his new roommate.
"Nice doing business with you," my dad shouts after their retreating forms. "You are going to be the death of me. Do you know that?" he turns to me, incredulous.
"How much did you get?" I ask.
"I didn't budge," he says proudly. "Two gold coins. I know desperation when I hear it. What made you target them? The cute one?" He asks curiously.
"No, Dad, the drunk called this called this place a 'shit stack,'" I say flatly. He grimaces and breathes in through his teeth. He tilts his head from side to side as if trying to decide.
"Okay, then. You did good," he says.
"Oh, I know I did." I went back into the shop. There is an extra special bounce in my step, the kind of bounce one has when they just got a pretty great notification.
Shopkeeper Level 8 --> Shopkeeper Level 9
That's two levels in one week. It's been a hell of a week, though. Now I am on the cusp of getting my blue profession. My smile only deepens when I hear my dad talking to himself behind me.
“I can’t believe you sold one of these things." He says, “fuck, that's ugly.".