Xanxus laughed so much that Darrian thought he was to fall off of his seat. His laughter was loud, boisterous, and very contagious, and so the drunken Exalt laughed along with him as if he actually knew what he was laughing about. If he were in his sober state he would have become offended; his son- or daughter – was going to become as strong as, if not stronger, than Lantus, Xanxus, and him combined. There was no doubt about it. Yet, Darrian was intoxicated, and grinned broadly at Xanxus’s words. So the woman was looking at them ever since they came? Ah, then he had a new target. He supposed he could fool around a bit more before he would return back to Ylisstol and have a wife. 

Someone spoke behind them, and Darrian looked up to see who it was. It was a soldier, one that Xanxus knew by heart, it seemed. The man actually went so far as to hug the guy, and invite him for a drink. Yet he didn’t seem interested. Shame. He would have liked to have known this man more. If Xanxus truly liked him, then he was a worthy enough person to be around. When Xanxus sat down beside him, and spoke about this Garrett, he listened. He wished that he could talk about his men the same way that he had. To him, his army were all scum; lazy, stupid, whimpering worms in a puddle of mood. 

[b]”I wouldn’t know who else to have my child call uncle.”[/b] Darrian told him, the grin still plastered on his face as he drank more. The flagon was empty once again and the waitress came over to pour him some more of the whiskey, but he grabbed her wrist and dragged her onto his lap. [b]”Lookie what I have here!”[/b] he boomed. [b]”Such a pretty face. Tell me, what is a delicate little thing doing in this horrible country of ruffians?”[/b] the woman stared at him with wide eyes, obviously shocked. She was a bit shy, but… [b]”Do you mind if she drinks with us, Xanxus? I’m sure she’ll be honored. Serving girls do not usually sit with men such as ourselves. She will have many stories to tell her friends if she does.”[/b] he looked over at him.

---

Ambra thought it heartening when Zaino said that he was nothing compared to his master. That was what she thought apprenticeships should be liked; a young man or woman that loved their master and wanted to learn everything they could from them. Yet, that was not always the case. Luckily, she was one of those who did. Scipio was a good man, one who was gentle and strong with his teachings and words. 

[b]”Are you leaving without us? Where are you going?”[/b] Ambra questioned. She was on her toes with him, she had to admit. She had never seen a man so brash. He had been poisoned, and instead of going to a village to ask for aid, he continued trudging on in the desert. Then, when she had mended his wounds, he went and reopened them. And now it seemed like he was about to leave again. That is, if that was what he meant by refusing to stay in the company of imposters.

She supposed that she could let him go if he decided to leave. Even though he was still weak, he would have enough willpower to keep on walking for miles and miles. He was like a stallion, a free soul bound by nothing. He, no one else, knew what he had to do. Even if she tried to stop him, she knew it would be futile. Zaino was just that type of man.