The Death That Wouldn't Take

Jazz had locked Ru in the witch's room for recovery and then made his way down to the lounge. There, sprawled comfortably on the sofa with his face hidden under a cowboy hat, was Chrono. Meanwhile, Jazz's knight, Jasper, had taken to sketching a lazy cowboy figure on his canvas.

"Rider," Jazz sighed. "A rider never seen actually riding."

"Don't start with me," Chrono grumbled.

Jazz walked over to his artistic knight and looked at the drawing. The charcoal sketch of Chrono was hyper-realistic, almost lifelike on the canvas.

"It's impressive, but not creative enough," Jazz critiqued.

"I'm making a second rider," Jasper responded to the criticism.

"There's no need for a second useless one in this house," Jazz cut him off, stepping away from the canvas. He had just started walking toward the lobby when a voice called out behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" It was Killian, descending the staircase.

Jazz turned to face him. "Nothing. You?"