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locke cole (lockecole) wrote in silverage,

The friend had been about to oblige, Locke knew this, so he slammed his better hand on the table and eyed his friend. Scars were useless if you weren't proud of them, sure, but--

Lifting a warning finger at his friend, he said, "Never ask that much from a woman."

"She offered!"

"Doesn't mean you ought to take her up on it!" Locke said before he turned back to the red-haired lady. "Excuse my friend, he doesn't have that much of moral fiber in his personage..."

"Says the man who's killed people."

"Like I said," Locke turned again to his friend, "I'm not sure about that part of my history." Because if you had a battalion of soldiers ganging up on you, it would take a miracle to count their heads, Locke thought.

Leaning to a side so that he saw her over Locke's side, his friend said to the lady, "Hey, since we've bothered you enough, already, why don't you come and join us? Locke's stories here of magic and swordfights should be more interesting than that book."

"You're just fascinated by my greatness, admit it," Locke snorted while he lifted the black package of his weapons off the last chair in the table and transferred it to his feet.