He tried to stand. His legs said no . His testicles, currently trying to retreat into his lower intestine, also said no .
“If I see you in my courtyard again, I won’t stop at one nudge. I’ll see if those things can bounce like dice.” knave ballbust
“Tough night, Rigo?”
Rigo had stolen the Baron’s ceremonial scepter—not for coin, but because the Baron laughed at his boots during the harvest feast. Petty? Absolutely. Satisfying? Immeasurably. He tried to stand
“Can’t what? Retrieve the scepter? Or sire children?” She crouched, her armored skirt scraping the stones. “Because one of those is my job to prevent. The other is a bonus.” “If I see you in my courtyard again,
“Oh,” he wheezed. “Oh, you bitch .”
For the first time in his miserable, thieving life, the knave had absolutely nothing clever to say.