For a long moment he said nothing, merely regarded the empty tankard with a sad eye and a yet-unfilled stomach. It was possible and even fitting to be in two places at once. Hell, he was starting to think he even needed to be, in a way. There was no reason to burden Ithacles with what Skandra thought of this whole fucked-up situation. Even worse, it was all Skandra's fault in the first gods-damned place. If he'd kept his mouth shut or kept moving... what would have happened? Would this country have been any better off with Ithunvel dead?
That wasn't a bad question. Just not one you should answer with 'let's find out'.
"Think I have a chance?"
Ithacles did nothing but make a face at him, as if to say... well, that was obvious.
Skandra managed to find his feet without too much trouble. The hard part was managing a sword. It would get easier when he was sitting in a carriage ready to take him to the border. By the time he got there, maybe he could shed this miserable prison of fabric and punch someone in the face.
Who the fuck needed another fight so soon?
"It was good to see you," Skandra, for once, actually meant it. "But I think I'm ready to go drown my sorrows in a priestess or three."