You rub your chin thoughtfully. "I've got a few conditions," you decide, at last "First thing, don't hit Michael again. I'm willing to pass this one off as breaking up the fight, but the thing is, while he speaks brute force? He isn't particularly eloquent in it. Kid's got no conception of actual strength."
"F-fuck you too," Michael snarls. You casually kick his barstool out from under him, without looking. He goes to the floor in a splayed heap.
"Sure," Briony agrees, her eyes sparkling with amusement from behind her glasses. "I've known adventurers like that. They don't last long."
"Preach it," you agree, wryly. "Second, I'm assigning my daughter to show you the ropes. She'll be your direct superior until you've proven you can hack it on your own."
"Fair," the dark-haired priestess agrees.
"And lastly, and this is more of a so-we're-clear, this is Glen, not the Roost. Town council and I have the final say, end of story."
"I speak strength just fine, Captain," Briony answers, her tone solemn.
"Then welcome to the militia, Deputy Briony."
You give the girl a firm handshake and watch her offer a hand for Michael. The boy refuses it, tries to stand twice, falls - cursing the whole way - twice, and finally pulls himself to his feet like a one-armed bear with a hangover.
"I feel so disgraced and put in my place," Briony says flatly "Truly, your childish snub eliminated the petty, malicious joy I got from watching you hurt yourself like an idiot."
"You think you're so smart," the boy growls.
"I know at least one god that does too. C'mon, Hatch, we're going to a healer."
"Hat - I HAVE A NAME!"
"Names are for adults," Briony replies, as she opens the door and holds it. "You get yours back when I believe you qualify."
"MILLER!"
"You heard the lady, Hatch," you answer. "Go see a healer."
* * * *
You are Brianna la Croix, necromancer, and you're waking back up in a soft bed, with Meadows's face staring down a you in stern disapproval.
