The bar was nearly full, so the man in black and crimson, with layers of capes girding his astounding muscle mass, with shadow under his helmet betraying old scars, took the one seat beside Helda the mage.

Ethel glanced at the clock and poked Athalie’s shoulder. The halfling saw it, too, with a start.

As soon as the massive, block-shaped warrior sat down (the stool creaking), the adventuring party crowded together and whispered. Forsythe broke away to jab at the waitress’ shoulder, saying, “You can’t serve this guy.”

She answered him with an angry, helpless face. As far as she was concerned, he had done nothing. Everyone might be considered dangerous out here—that was the job. If he paid, he stayed. Also, she didn’t like humans telling her what to do. She poured the man tea and fled to the back.

“Excuse me,” said Athalie with unnecessary theatrical loudness. “I must be going myself.” She left to go to the bathroom. Why she’d said anything at all, we will never know.

In the meantime, Ethel listened in, trying to look unflapped.

Sadly, by that time the place had gone quiet.

Then the newcomer said one word: “Worms.”

The adventurers leered at him. The waitress froze.

“You’re worms,” he said. “I do it every time I come around here. Picking off the weak. Keep going and you’ll regret it.”

“Beg your pardon, man,” said Buck. There was something closed-off in his expression, like he was inwardly mustering up his magic. “That’s not for you to decide.”

The man shifted. He set his hand on the hilt of the enormous weapon set diagonally down his back. Ethel tried to bend around the adventurers and see what it was, but at this angle it was nothing but a shimmering smear. But not something Dodd would be able to hold anytime soon, to say the least.

“My name is Dulcen,” he said, “Dulcen Dri—”

The front door opened gently.

Everyone turned to see an unassuming young woman, a human, with a smile as petite and delightful as a flower in bloom. Her pink-and-white dress suggested lily petals and dandelion fluff.

She looked at Ethel immediately—then pretended to have looked at Athalie’s empty barstool -- then, after a bit of hesitation, walked over to the one other remaining barstool, which was next to Dulcen Drieze.

She folded her hands and waited for someone to give her tea. It was poured by a rattling pitcher. Then she pretended to sip.

Dulcen eyed her and said, “Hey.”

“Good afternoon,” she said.

Athalie returned. She pretended to be surprised, confused, and nervous about returning to her place. Mainly, though, she was concerned that Dodd wouldn’t get to witness anything interesting, except another brawl, which maybe she’d had enough of lately.

Dulcen received biscuits and began to eat. Everyone else at the bar, as a matter of course, set a hand on one of their weapons. Even the silly new girl had a short saber.

Dulcen slid his stool back. Weapons were drawn—the air shook.

Then he raised his hands—as if that could mean surrender when his wind magic was purportedly so strong. “Relax, okay? I’m not trying to get this lady out of business. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

Suddenly the new girl leaped upright.

Now Athalie was miffed. She stood up saying, “Wha—”

Dulcen walked slowly to the bathrooms, the young woman in tow. As they went, she flashed a giggling smile to Athalie and Ethel. Athalie was torn, wasn’t sure what her own best next move was. And Nyx was appalled. Was this...Dodd trying to have a demon’s vision of innocent fun? All they knew was that it seemed impudent and they were fuming.

The adventurers, though—the ones Athalie had expected to gang up on Dulcen in this moment—generally just let him go, and sat there tittering.

“Why don’t you go with ‘im?” Buck called out.

The rogue Forsythe said in a low voice, “Hey, if you go, I’ll go.” He still had a hand to his dagger hilts.

Athalie turned to Ethel as if for advice, and didn’t get any. Ethel just looked petrified and hopeless.

She forced a blush—it was in-character for her. “I’ll do it,” she said coldly. “The beast has cornered himself. Come along, Ethel.”

“Okay,” said Ethel.

As they walked to the bathroom, Buck, Helda, and Sopbread cheered. Athalie drew her sword, and Nyx told Ethel under their breath, “Dodd better not make this complicated for us.”