Disappointed

Gordon carefully placed the heavy pot in the designated spot in Sella's garden, following her instructions. They chatted for a few moments, and during their conversation, Sella mentioned that Lukas had visited her garden twice in the past few days.

Gordon's blood boiled. He remembered Lukas's desperate plea for help, his insistence that Gordon solve the ghost problem at Mr. Suhat's house. He had risked his life, faced terrifying horrors, while Lukas, the very person who had begged for his assistance, had been absent, spending his time flirting with Sella.

What an asshole, Gordon thought, his jaw clenching. He felt a surge of anger, a sense of betrayal. He had put his life on the line, and Lukas hadn't even bothered to show his face. He had been too busy pursuing his own selfish desires.

With a simmering anger still bubbling within him, Gordon finished his conversation with Sella and resumed his patrol. He made a mental note to confront Lukas later, to give him a piece of his mind for his blatant disregard for Gordon's safety and his own responsibilities.

He walked with a renewed sense of purpose, his eyes scanning the surrounding area, searching for any signs of trouble. He was determined to find something, anything, to distract himself from the lingering frustration.

However, the afternoon passed without incident. The village outskirts remained quiet and peaceful, devoid of any suspicious activity. By late afternoon, Gordon was forced to admit that his patrol had been fruitless.

With a determined stride, Gordon changed direction, heading towards the goat farm. The image of Lukas, casually flirting with Sella while he had been risking his life, fueled his anger. He imagined the confrontation, the words he would say, the righteous fury he would unleash. He knew Lukas was likely at the goat farm, tending to his duties, oblivious to the storm that was brewing. Gordon's pace quickened, his anticipation growing with each step. He was ready to confront Lukas and demand an explanation for his irresponsible behavior.

Gordon found Lukas outside the goat farm, casually leaning against a fence, a picture of nonchalance. As soon as Lukas spotted Gordon approaching, a flicker of something akin to fear flashed across his face, quickly masked by a forced calm.

"Well, if it isn't the village's resident ghostbuster," Lukas drawled, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "Back from your… spectral sabbatical?"

"Cut the crap, Lukas," Gordon snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "Why? Why did you leave me to deal with that mess alone? While you were… flirting with Sella?"

Lukas raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, hold your horses, Gordon," he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "It's not like I wanted to abandon you. It's just… well, you know. I'm just an average guy. Unlike you, you're the one with the skills, I'm not exactly equipped to handle… ethereal entities." He made air quotes with his fingers. "I mean, what would I have done? Tripped over a ghost and then asked it politely to leave? I'd just have been a hindrance."

"A hindrance?" Gordon scoffed, his voice laced with sarcasm. "You're a hindrance even when you're not there, Lukas. You begged me to help, then disappeared like a frightened goat. You're so helpful, you're practically a ghost yourself."

"Hey, I was supporting you... emotionally!" Lukas protested, his voice rising slightly. "I was sending you good vibes from afar! I was, you know, maintaining the village's morale by being charming to Sella. Someone had to do it!"

"Right, because the village morale is directly proportional to how many times you can make Sella roll her eyes," Gordon retorted, his lip curling. "You're a master strategist, Lukas. I'll give you that. You know exactly how to be useless in the most entertaining way possible."

The air crackled with their sarcastic volleys, a battle of wits as sharp as any sword fight.

"You know," Gordon said, his voice dripping with mock admiration, "it's almost impressive how consistently you manage to avoid responsibility. It's like a magical power"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it a magical power," Lukas replied, a sly grin spreading across his face. "More like a… highly refined survival instinct. You know, self-preservation. A valuable trait in a world full of… spectral shenanigans."

"Survival instinct?" Gordon scoffed. "You mean cowardice. You begged me to help, then ran off like a scared rabbit. If that's survival instinct, then rabbits are the apex predators of the forest."

"Hey, I was just being strategic!" Lukas protested, waving his hands defensively. "Someone had to stay behind and, you know, coordinate. I was the… the tactical mastermind of the operation! You were the… the boots on the ground! We needed both!"

"Tactical mastermind?" Gordon raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with disbelief. "You spent two days flirting with Sella, Lukas. That's your 'tactical mastermind' plan?"

"Look, someone had to keep Sella's spirits up!" Lukas insisted, his voice rising slightly. "You know, after all the cultist drama. She was probably terrified! I was just being a gentleman, offering… emotional support. And besides," he added with a wink, "someone had to make sure she didn't get lonely. It's a dangerous world out there, you know."

"Right, because the greatest danger Sella faces is you," Gordon retorted, shaking his head. "You're so unreliable, Lukas, you'd probably forget your own name if I didn't remind you every five minutes."

"Oh, come on, Gordon," Lukas said, feigning hurt. "I'm not that unreliable. I'm just… adaptable. Flexible. I can roll with the punches. And sometimes, rolling means rolling away from ghosts."

Gordon pressed on, determined to break through Lukas's wall of excuses and force him to acknowledge his blatant cowardice. But Lukas, with his slippery tongue and endless supply of justifications, proved to be an insurmountable opponent. Gordon found himself increasingly frustrated, his arguments losing their edge, his words failing to land a decisive blow.

He had to admit defeat. Lukas's ability to twist and deflect, to weave a narrative where he was always the victim or the hero, was truly remarkable. He was left speechless, his frustration bubbling over.

"Fine," Gordon finally muttered, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You win. I have better things to do than argue with a master of self-deception."

He turned and began to walk away, heading back towards the Hunter's Guild to file his patrol report before heading home.

"That's right, Gordon!" Lukas called after him, his voice filled with triumphant glee. "You learned your lesson! I, Lukas, have once again emerged victorious in the battle of wits! Remember this day, Gordon! Remember the day you were bested by the master of… tactical retreat!" He punctuated his victory with a flourish, waving his hand in a grand, theatrical gesture. Gordon just rolled his eyes and kept walking.

As Gordon walked towards the Hunter's Guild, a wave of exasperation washed over him. He found himself wondering, not for the first time, how he had ended up being friends with Lukas. The man was infuriating, a master of deflection, a walking, talking excuse machine. There were times when Gordon felt an almost irresistible urge to punch Lukas's face, to release the pent-up frustration that his friend so effortlessly generated.

But then, a flicker of understanding, a quiet resignation, settled over him. He remembered his childhood, his inherent shyness, his crippling timidity. He had been a solitary figure, a wallflower, unnoticed and unapproachable.

There was Markus, of course. Markus was everything Gordon wasn't: confident, charismatic, popular. Everyone wanted to be Markus's friend. Gordon knew that any attempt to forge a close bond with Markus would be futile, a hopeless endeavor.

And then there was Lukas. Lukas, like Gordon, was an outsider, a figure on the fringes of social acceptance. They were two of a kind, bound together by their shared lack of popularity. It was a friendship born of necessity, a companionship forged in the quiet corners of social isolation. Gordon knew, deep down, that despite Lukas's infuriating tendencies, he was the only friend he truly had.

A specific memory surfaced, a stark reminder of the bond that existed between them. Gordon recalled a time, years ago, when he had been falsely accused of stealing cheese from one of the girls playing near the hill. He, timid and awkward, had been cornered, his face flushed with shame and fear, as the girls hurled accusations at him.

Lukas, the ever-present outsider, had stepped forward, his voice surprisingly firm. He had defended Gordon, arguing against the accusations, pointing out the lack of evidence, and even suggesting alternative explanations. He had stood by Gordon, alone against the group, his loyalty unwavering.

That moment, more than any other, solidified their friendship. It was a testament to Lukas's unwavering support, a reminder that even in his most infuriating moments, he was still a friend, a loyal companion.

A wave of reluctant forgiveness washed over Gordon. He sighed, acknowledging that, despite his annoyance, he couldn't hold a grudge against Lukas forever. And, if he was honest with himself, there was a kernel of truth in Lukas's ridiculous excuses.

Lukas, with his lack of combat skills and his aversion to anything remotely dangerous, would have been more of a liability than an asset during the ghost encounter. He would have likely just gotten in the way, adding to the chaos rather than helping to resolve it.

Gordon conceded that Lukas, in his own, convoluted way, had probably made the right decision. He had stayed away, avoiding the risk of hindering Gordon's efforts. It was a cowardly decision, perhaps, but a pragmatic one. He had to admit, even if just to himself, that Lukas had a point.

But

Despite acknowledging the logic of Lukas's absence, a deep ache remained in Gordon's chest. He couldn't shake the feeling of hurt, the sense of abandonment that had gnawed at him during his terrifying ordeal.

It wasn't about Lukas's lack of fighting skills; it was about his absence when Gordon had felt so utterly scared and powerless. He had faced horrors beyond his comprehension, and in those moments, he had longed for a familiar face, a comforting presence. He had wished for his friend to be there, not to fight, but simply to offer support, to share the burden of fear.

The knowledge that Lukas had chosen to pursue his own interests, to flirt with Sella, while Gordon was battling for his sanity, stung. It was a reminder of their fundamental differences, of Lukas's inability to understand the depth of Gordon's fear and the weight of his responsibility.