"Just getting what you asked for, your royal bitchiness."

I come out of the bow to see a very disheveled Naiomi walking gingerly down the stairs. Her hair's a rat's nest. She tries to straighten it with her brush while she attempts to fix the straps of her dress, all without missing a single step. A large, anthropomorphic wolf in baggy pants held up by a piece of rope leaves her room and brushes past her. He gives me a large grin and slams the tavern door shut behind him.

Naiomi (that bitch) clears her throat. "Hopefully the power source is—"

"No, no. We're on this now," I say quietly. Naiomi completes her descent down the stairs, still messing with her dress. "Who was that?"

"Nobody."

"Who was that?" I ask. My voice is barely above a whisper.

"It's nothing, Namonai." (it's never nothing. maybe you need to strangle the truth out of her. when has she ever put your feelings or your truth first? the manipulative fox wouldn't even—)

I bite my tongue to force the subconscious thoughts out of my head. No, keep calm here. Maybe she's telling the truth. (unlikely) Yeah, I doubt it. "If it's nothing, then why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Just drop it!"

I take a step forward, boots slamming down onto the rickety wooden floor. "Like how I drop everything else? (ungrateful) Am I just supposed to ignore this? (she expects you to) We both know this isn't you, and he," I gesture to the departed wolf, my voice rising, "certainly isn't your type. Nobody is! And that just changes?" (make up your mind you selfish whore. does she even deserve your loyalty?) "And after everything I've done for you?" I take a deep breath, shaking my head. "Here, take it. Be a good lap dog and give it to Marinette yourself." I toss the bag onto the floor and brush past Naiomi, bumping my shoulder against hers. I slam the door to my room shut behind me.

Gods! Who does she think she is? Treating me like that. Inviting a stranger in and...and doing gods know what. (or she's been keeping it from you all along. honesty is a one way street for her) Oh gods, what if she has been seeing someone? And didn't tell me? (goddamn bitch!) I put my head in my hands and sigh. You're losing it, Namonai. All these dark thoughts in the back of my head...and now Naiomi? I'm not sure how long I can keep up my happy charade.

Someone knocks at my door. "Namonai?" It's Esilea. I suppose I'm not angry at her. (why shouldn't you be? what do you mean to her besides—) No, that's enough. Enough of this. Only happy thoughts now. And the occasional sarcastic, slightly bitter, mental remark. Okay, mostly sarcasm with some happiness sprinkled in.

"Come in," I say. The door opens and the tall warrior steps in as I lean back on my hands on the bed. "Just couldn't resist the opportunity of catching me in bed?"

"I don't do masks," she says with a grin. "But, no, that's not why I came in. I just wanted to—"

"Where'd you get that?" I interrupt, nodding at a long gash on her arm. She wipes up a trickle of blood with her finger.

"Oh, this? It's nothing?" My fingers tighten their grip on the sheets. I'm really getting tired of being told that "it's nothing". It's obviously something! Do they just think I'm stupid? (obviously you're an idiot if—) I said no.

"It's obviously not 'nothing', so tell me what happened." Esilea bites her lip and then sighs.

"Icarus and I just had an argument. He threw some stuff. It's nothing. I—" The rest of her words are lost to me as I storm past her and wrench my door open. This ends now.

I cross the tavern floor in a second and fling the cellar doors open. Icarus barely has time to shout before I've slung him over my shoulder.

My body only dimly registers the pain. Icarus hits my back, but my body is already so sore that I barely feel it. Esilea tries to step in front of me, but I duck around her and slam my door shut. I toss Icarus on my bed and slide the locks on my door shut, propping a chair up to it for good measure.

"Namonai!" Esilea pounds on the door. "Namonai, open up!"

"I'm not going to hurt him!" I call back through the thin wood. Well, as long as he cooperates. Even then, I won't hurt him...much. A little pain now and then can be constructive.

"What's this all about?" Icarus demands, trying to sit himself up. I pick him up and prop him up against the wall, placing a pillow behind his head. I can't help it—I see the bald kid, and I feel bad. As long as he's not talking, he's actually kind of...nice.

"Are you comfortable?" Icarus opens his mouth, but I continue. "Good. Now here's what's going to happen: you and I are going to have a polite conversation, like adults. And then, like an adult, you'll make nice with Esilea."

"I have nothing to say to her," Icarus says, crossing his arms.

"But plenty of things to throw, it looks like."

"I'm not apologizing." (it wouldn't take much to beat some sense into him. he'd only fight back at first; it would be easy. just watch his face cave in and crumple, the blood pouring over. thick, and red. so red.) I flex my fingers by my sides and take a deep breath.

"Why not?" I ask. He looks up at me. "What did she do?"

"It's what everyone does," Icarus mumbles. I sit down on the bed, my weight causing a small dip in the mattress. "My money won't last forever, and Esilea is a great warrior; she's not cheap. What then? It's not that..." He swallows and shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Why am I telling you this?" No! We're getting somewhere! I drum my fingers on the sheets.

"I guess I just have one of those faces you can talk to," I say with a smile in my voice. "But you're not doing that, Icarus. You have a good heart and a brilliant mind, I know it. And beneath that scowl," his frown deepens, "I've seen a nice smile or two. Now, I'll level with you here." I reposition myself on the bed. "I'm not in a good mood, and my patience is really thin. I'm not an understanding kind of guy, either. But I'm trying here, mate. I am. Honestly, it's taking everything I have not to beat some sense into you."

"Thank you so much," Icarus says sarcastically. I slam my palm on the bed and he jumps.

"That's not helping!" I shout. I take a deep breath and stand, pacing. "This, this, is what I'm talking about. I don't know if you noticed, but I wasn't like this when we first met. Now, I don't know if it's been the increase in jobs or your shitty attitude or what, but I can't live like this." (how else would you live your life? you're a lapdog, a messenger; a toy. don't pretend to want something more; this is all you know.) I lean forward on the bed. "In the back of my head, I've been having these dark thoughts, and they keep getting louder. Now," I slip my mask off, running my hands over my bandaged face, "I've shared my problems. Your turn."