“Hah! He's passed out again." Zalbar heard the whores' voices as if from a distance and wanted very badly to take exception to what they were saying. He wasn't asleep or passed out. He could understand every word that was being said. His eyes were just closed, that's all ... and damned hard to open too. Hardly worth the effort. "I don't know why the Madame puts up with him. He's not that good-looking, or rich." "Maybe she has a weak spot for lost puppies and losers." "If she does, it's the first... sign of it she's shown since I've been here." A loser? Him? How could they say that? Wasn't he a Hell-Hound? One of the most feared swordsmen in Sanctuary? Struggling to focus his mind, Zalbar became aware that he was sitting in a chair. Well, sitting slumped over, the side of his head resting on something hard ... presumably a table. There was a puddle of something cold and sticky under his ear. He fervently hoped it was spilled wine and not vomit. "Well, I guess we'll just have to carry him up to his room again.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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