( It's... settled, then. He is a sorcerer, and the beautiful but brutal creature who walks before him and has all too clearly never cut a throat on a whim is his bodyguard. They are equally convincing in their roles, barring the part where Hector performs sorcery with frightening regularity, and his companion of choice presented him with a lethal... pencil.
But they're walking towards a boss of the land, his wealth casually displayed in droves of rings, necklaces and a chorus of pursed-lip advisors, each more willing to confirm their obedience than the rest. One pours his wine (pickled?), one hastily brings him a woman. Another, quick-witted, offers to play him at cards — and lose, he volunteers, because he always loses.
Hector's squinting reaches level of complexity he is only able to surpass by taking a seat at the man's table, uninvited. Yes, that always wonders for his health. )
You look like a man of the world. My... bodyguard — ( One of the followers grins, Your whore? ) bodyguard — and I were hoping for a steer. Isn't that right...?
no subject
But they're walking towards a boss of the land, his wealth casually displayed in droves of rings, necklaces and a chorus of pursed-lip advisors, each more willing to confirm their obedience than the rest. One pours his wine (pickled?), one hastily brings him a woman. Another, quick-witted, offers to play him at cards — and lose, he volunteers, because he always loses.
Hector's squinting reaches level of complexity he is only able to surpass by taking a seat at the man's table, uninvited. Yes, that always wonders for his health. )
You look like a man of the world. My... bodyguard — ( One of the followers grins, Your whore? ) bodyguard — and I were hoping for a steer. Isn't that right...?