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"We don't have a clue as to where to search, do we?"
Joram stuck his head out the door and peered up at the sky, almost expecting to find some dark omen amidst the stars. As it was, all he saw was the dark underside of a large, cloudy blanket. He shrugged and turned his gaze to Skye.
"I suppose we'll go search, and then heroically find some antidote at the very last moment. Well, we'd better."
But Joram was well aware of the difference between facts and fiction, and didn't hold much hope. It was a dark night indeed.
Tournament, Flask of polish, Help out Tancred, Antidote, ...
what else? what was he missing?
'"...Joram... are - are you alright, man?"
He looked up at the sound of his name, his vision oddly blurry at first, but soon he regained his focus.
"Pardon? Yes, yes. Just... off in my thoughts. Have I ever told you about Billy? Of course I haven't, forget I asked."
The knight scratched his head, not failing to notice the ravenblack strands were getting greasy. He added 'taking a bath' to his mental list of things to do.
"You were saying something about a favour, weren't you?"
With a glint in his eyes and the hints of a smile forming, something resembling the cheerful daytime squire seemed to return to him.
"I'm afraid I don't have my handkerchief on me right now.
Oh, for the gods' sake, don't look at me like that. What's on your mind, Tancred?"'
Take a bath. And don't forget.
Help out Tancred. What was it he'd said again?
Closing his eyes, Joram tried to recall the rest of the scene.
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