Chapter 50
Even and Quincy were finally done with their little—what, four-hour-long?—session, and emerged from their room looking half-alive and wholly satisfied. Quincy stepped out first, her clothes only slightly rumpled and a smug grin plastered across her face.
"You're lucky I heal fast, or I'd be limping straight to the Healing Springs right now," she said breezily, rolling her shoulders.
Even followed a step behind, rolling his shoulder with a faint wince. "Look who's talking," he muttered, rubbing at a spot near his collarbone. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to mark me with those fangs and claws of yours."
Quincy laughed, soft and low. "It's been over a century since I've had any fun. Forgive me for going a tiny bit overboard."
Even let out a slow, tired breath, and raised a hand to cast a faint shimmer of water magic over his arm, the bruising and scratches knitting closed. "Sure," he said flatly, but there was no bite behind it.
As the two descended to the tavern floor of the inn, the low hum of conversation was punctuated by louder laughter and scattered gasps coming from one of the tables. A crowd had gathered, and not the quiet-watching-from-afar kind either—people were leaning in, entertained.
"What now?" Quincy murmured, her eyes narrowing with a spark of curiosity as she quickened her pace. Even followed right behind her.
They pushed through the crowd just in time to hear:
"So what's it like being undead~? Do you still feel everything? Or it all li-like—hic!—dead nerves~?"
At the center of it all sat Xain—no, correction, he was on the table. On his hands and knees. His hair was a chaotic mess falling over flushed cheeks, and his voice slurred with the confidence only drunken foolishness could fuel. Inches away from him sat a very stunned Vilak, blinking as if unsure how the hell this had happened.
Even stopped short. "What the hell happened here?" he asked, deadpan.
A hand clapped his shoulder. He turned to find Larkin standing beside him, scratching at his beard with a sheepish look.
"Xain was havin' his first drink. Just one glass. Got drunk off it."
Even stared blankly.
"It was aged wine," Larkin added. "But damn does he not have a good tolerance."
Even turned his gaze slowly back to the chaos on the table. Xain was now leaning closer to Vilak again, pouting.
"C'mon~ You said you wanted to talk, so why're you clamming—hic!—up now~?" he whined, reaching out and poking the necromancer in the chest with one finger.
Vilak looked down, awkward and strangely… remorseful? "I… didn't think he'd get drunk that quickly," he said quietly, almost like he was apologizing to everyone in earshot. Which—considering how many people were watching—was fair.
"I think you should calm down, Xain," Edluar offered gently. "You're clearly drunk, and—"
He didn't get to finish.
Xain's head snapped toward him with glassy eyes and a wobbling pout. He leaned forward, teetering dangerously on the table.
"It's so unfair~!" he wailed.
Edluar blinked. "Yes?"
"You elves have such an unfair advantage~!" Xain slurred, crawling across the table toward him like a tipsy predator. "You always look so—hic!—good~!"
Before Edluar could react, Xain reached out and buried his hands in the half-elf's silky silver hair.
"So pretty without even tryin'! It's so unfair~! Why're you so pretty!?"
Edluar went stiff as a board. His face flushed from chin to the very tips of his pointed ears, and whatever words he might have had scattered like leaves in a storm. His mouth opened—and then only nonsense came out. Half-formed syllables, squeaks, stammered vowels, his brain clearly short-circuiting under the compliment—and Xain just kept petting his head like a drunk, overly affectionate cat.
Nori finally stepped in holding his notebook up right in Xain's face. His writing was bold and underlined.
"Get down from the table! You could fall and hurt yourself!"
Xain blinked at the message. Then blinked again. And proceeded to completely ignore it.
Instead, his eyes lit up with a drunken kind of joy. "Ahhh~ Nori~" he slurred with a delighted gasp, reaching out and patting the elf's head with both hands. "Just as soft~ It's just like—hic!—his~"
Nori flinched and tried to pull away, but Xain was surprisingly clingy. The moment froze him in place as his brain betrayed him, dragging up memories from years ago—memories of a younger Xain doing this exact same thing with that same doped-up look on his face. The nostalgia hit like a sucker punch. It rooted him.
"You look so much like him~" Xain said dreamily, swaying a little as his hands continued to muss Nori's hair. "Like a little fairy out of one of those picture books~ hic! So cuuuute~"
Internally, Nori was screaming. His face went beet red, burning hot from the roots of his hair to the tips of his ears. He couldn't make a sound, but he didn't need to—his entire body language screamed *I want to die!*
Then Zee stepped in.
"Xain, that's enough," she said, trying for a firm tone as she grabbed his shoulder. "You need to get sobered up and go to bed—"
Xain whipped around fast enough to make her jolt, grabbing both her hands in his. His eyes sparkled like he was about to serenade her.
"Don't get jealous, Zee~" he whispered dramatically. "Seeing your—hic!—your face still calms my heart~" He rubbed her hands between his palms like they were the most precious things in the world.
Zee flushed hard, her eyes going wide.
She was very convincing. Not.
Mae cackled. "Look at you not being able to say it to his face. How adorable~" she teased, thoroughly enjoying the entire disaster unraveling before her.
Xain's gaze wobbled over to her, eyes still glassy but wide with admiration. "Mae~ hic! I dunno what to say about you~ You're scary, but like, in a cool way~ Like a… a cool beauty~"
Apparently he was trying to fill a criteria of making all the elves blush, one by one.
Mae pressed both hands to her chest like she'd been given a bouquet. "Oh, how sweet~" she cooed. Then she tilted her head, smiling like a cat. "But I'm not like the other elves. You won't fluster me with a few pretty words."
Despite her words, there was a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth, as if she had to work not to grin.
From the expressions on the people gathered around them, it was clear what everyone was thinking.
*He has an elven harem…*
Xain narrowed his eyes at Mae, puffing his cheeks. "Why youuu~!"
And then he lost his balance mid-crawl.
There was a thud as he toppled right off the edge of the table, collapsing into a tangle of limbs and cloak. By the time anyone could move, he was already snoring.
A moment of stunned silence passed over the room.
Noted: never, under any circumstance, mix Xain and alcohol.
Also: Elves – 1. Xain – 3.