Shilton walked back into the guest room again, head hanging low and mood equally heavy.
"Look at that." Taler wiped the beer foam stuck to his lips and let out a sigh of admiration. "Now that's what you call learning your lesson the hard way."
As he spoke, the spymaster put the silver fork Shilton had habitually palmed earlier—then angrily slammed back onto the table—back onto the plate.
Taler raised his tankard toward Lann.
"To our screwed-over Dwarf."
"To him." The Demon Hunter drew his gaze back from Shilton's door, raised his mug, and clinked it. "To this screwed-over, yet still loyal, friend."
"Hoo~" Letting out a long, frosty breath, Lann shook his head helplessly.
"So you don't blame him."
"Blame him? For what?" The Demon Hunter asked Taler back in puzzlement.
