"He does do that." he offered with a smile. The Winston story was a favorite and he hardly ever mined sharing it. "This was a little bit into the journey. We'd just captured one of their castles and George had found their wine cellar. He then proceeded the drink over half of it in a matter of hours." He hoped this wasn't too terrible for a kid to hear.
"And it got him drunk. Really drunk. We also had a bunch of mules with us, for transporting goods and the like. And they make noise. So George wanders into my tent, hardly standing, and falls onto one of the couches. He's there making a commotion and then suddenly he asks what the hell the noise is. Apparently the mules were a mystery to him."
"So, I tell him it's a dragon and to go kill it because he was getting on my nerves. He jumps up, does his whole holy warrior of God glow stick routine and runs out yelling something about vanquishing Satan. At this point I'm a little worried because the mules aren't something we can lose. So I go after him. I find him face down in a ditch in front of the mules, screaming his fool head off about Satan again. At which point I just start laughing."
He chuckled, "so I let him sleep it off, even though the mules are now terrified. He comes into the tent next morning and asks what he did. So I tell him. He feels instantly guilty about the mules and spends a good half day comforting one of them. And names it Winston. Decides Winston is now his mount and spoils the beast rotten. Even made us bury it when it died." He shook his head.