Twenty-nine

"Never underestimate a well-timed tomato. I once destroyed the fortunes of a criminal gang boss with a tomato. Although that isn't quite fair, because I did have half a stick of celery too."

It was not altogether clear whether Weft meant this seriously. The grin could have been at the dragon, which was really quite charming if Weft would only admit it.

Sebastian was, for the first time in quite a while, totally flummoxed as he looked at Weft. His eyes were about the size of dinner plates at least. Finally the Fox decided it was better to not comment and instead pay attention to the dragon. "Now that is quite adorable."

The now bell-less head eyed the men suspiciously. You never knew what people staring at you were up to.
After some gentle hissing and less gentle snapping it got the attention of his other half for coordination.
The dragon half flew, half hopped back towards the inn.

"And, what luck for you, it seems to like hats." Weft stood up from his crouching position and watched Ayu-Asra's somewhat unsteady retreat.

Bells and scraps of fabric decorated the scenery. He couldn't wait to see Suitov try to work out what had happened here.

"Oh come now, I'm sure you'd look positively smashing in a hat. In an unassuming, not pretentious manner." He paused. "Although it occurs to me you have probably used a hat as a weapon. Most likely one of those with, erm, certain types sharpened metal brims or pennies or whatever."

Sebastian sighed.

"As it happens, I haven't. Pulling other people's down over their eyes is about as creative as I've ever got, I think. Why, do you really think I'd l-- er, never mind."

He noticed the sigh belatedly. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. Perpetual boredom. Why? Did you have an idea of some sort? For some reason the idea of going inside and being social feels awfully disgruntling right now." Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his last acquaintance had dropped him into a bush from high up in the air.

Well, Hat happens.

"Well, we could play a dice game but somehow I suspect you'd thrash me. Likewise I don't think you'd have fun watching me knit. There's always the old going off, getting lost and killing things routine, but I shouldn't wander far away. How would you normally deal with boredom if ale and wenches are out of the picture?"

Sebastian had to think about that for a while. It wasn't that he didn't know, it was that he wasn't sure if Weft would understand.

What the hell.

"I usually build a cabin somewhere in the woods and live alone for a few years," he said a little solemnly, but then added - much chipperly: "And set traps for unsuspecting passers-by, watch, point and laugh at them, and kick unwanted elements out of my corner of the woods."

He blinked.

"I guess that's out of the question too."

Weft heard this without seeming unduly surprised. When someone back home snapped and went hermit, the culture as a whole gave her (or occasionally him) a cheerful wave and a "bye now". Individualism to that degree was very very eccentric, so the middle of nowhere was the best place for them. He'd had enough experience of Sebastian by now to decide the halfie was eccentric by anyone's standards.

"Although that does sound fun..." For a while? Especially the casual violence? Actually he couldn't think of a way to finish that sentence.

Weft imagined, correctly, that he himself would probably get bored, would definitely grow lonely on his own and would miss monastic life and feeling useful. In addition, it wasn't quite as easy to rejoin society after a hermit jaunt. First everyone would want to know if whatever you had had was infectious.

"Oh, it is," Sebastian said and waved it off with a hand. "Until you realise you've had to expand your cellar twice because of all the things you've grabbed off of the unwanted elements."

In fact, Sebastian thought, hadn't that and the sudden taste for adventure cultivated by a bunch of simpletons (and one quite pretty woman) finally drawn him from his safe haven to the outside world? He winced at his musings. That was so very, very, very far behind in the past...

"Well, I haven't actually tried settling down yet," Sebastian admitted. "I mean. Really settling down. Of course I should add that there might be ample reason for that..." ...such as bounties and stories.

"You'd only have to set up a deal with a launderer or fence, surely? It could be profitable." Weft frowned. "You don't seem like the type who would settle down easily, I'll give you that." He wondered if Sebastian had ever really wanted to, or just toyed with the idea.

Had Suitov been present, no doubt he would have come out with some line about there being more than one way to settle down and not all of them involved staying in one place.

"Well, I'm lucky. I've never had to worry about surviving to retirement age." He blinked peacefully into the distance.

"It's not the wealth I'm doing it for," Sebastian sighed after a moment of silence, regarding Weft with an outwardly calm look. The stare continued for a while, then moved back to the bits and pieces of the jester hat. "Oh well. Do you think there's a dragon or something dangerous lurking about? I could do with a bit of mythbusting."

"It'd be the side-effect of a tidy cellar. Anyway, you could always donate it to a religious charity in exchange for no house calls, right? Wait a minute, did you just suggest violence?" Weft's pale green eyes positively illuminated at the thought. He'd calmed down after being annoyed by Jaina, but that only meant the savagery in his core was cold and general instead of hot and specific.

One dragon meanwhile slipped into the main room of the inn. After (not very carefully) checking if he was unobserves, Ayu-Asra flew into the gap between the shelf behind the bar and the ceiling.
He would probably have been slightly less noticeable without the bell.
He curled up in the dark space for a nap.

Outside, from not too far off in the deciduous woodland surrounding, but not belonging to, the inn... there was a gallumphing noise, as of a large, dangerous animal.

Weft was nearly quivering from approach-approach conflict, and the slightest encouragement from Sebastian would cause him conveniently to 'forget' what he was meant to be doing and hare off in pursuit.

"Well," Sebastian commented after whirling around to cock his head to the side in reaction to the noise. "I think this quite settles it!"

He took one step, grinning widely, and almost stopped in midstride for a barely noticeable fraction of a second. During that fraction of a second the half-elf's mind (faster than a particularly hurried bolt of lightning) considered something. But again, his better side - that is to say, the one that wasn't wont to get stuck thinking over puny details - won and he set off.

Who cared if it was an obvious distraction from whatever powers be?

The monk checked a couple of his unseen utensils and ran a hand through his hair, all with - well, dare we say, a slightly wild countenance? And he catamounted after Sebastian.

His rather threadbare rationalisation went thus: It won't take long and we're not going far and I can't go near the target anyway until his floozy leaves and I'm going to get in so much trouble for this, aren't I? before Weft knifed it and left it in the undergrowth. Metaphorically. He put it out of his head, anyway.

They could hear padding paws, heavy breath and the rustle of wings.

"Griffin," he murmured to his accomplice, "or sphinx, or...?"

"B'kaw!"

An exclamation of despair and disbelief - "THERE IS NO GODDESS!" - echoed nervously over to the inn.

Having done its duty, it ducked for cover like any smart exclamation of despair and disbelief would.

"Sebastian? What on earth's wrong?" Weft's ears were ringing slightly.