Ambra continued to grip the shirt, keeping it close to her and making sure that the edges would not be yanked on. Zaino could very well have leaned over and pulled on it if she did not keep pressed against her. Someone showed up and asked if he had seen a blond mage around. Blond mage… where had she seen a blond mage? She didn’t think she had seen a blond mage—the only one that she saw was in bandages, and then this one seemed to be one as well. [i]What’s with all of this talk about mages?[/i] she thought. [i]Do we really have that many mages?[/i] 

The warrior turned back to her and demanded that she give his shirt back. Ripped from her thoughts, she shook her head vigorously and held the fabric closer to her—if that was even possible. [b]”No!”[/b] she hissed at him, trying not to wake up the fat man that was on the floor. If he did wake up… no, she wouldn’t want to see [i]that[/i].

---

Darrian grumbled at Xanxus, rubbing the back of his head. He really tried not to appear to pained, but he was afraid that the expression was beginning to creep on to his face. Yet, he still couldn’t believe that he had thrown a [i]boulder[/i] at him. Not a pebble. Not a bottle. But a [i]boulder[/i]. Luckily, there was no blood. Though, the hurt struck him down like a bolt of lightning, and it was only by mere will that he had been able to get up again.

[b]”You must be sick in the head,”[/b] he coughed. [b]”You just hit me with a rock the size of my own head! You nearly killed me!”[/b]