“...And let it be known that the trade agreement put forth by the forum is absolutely intolerable!” A puffy-chested lord paced across the senate floor, his wings unfurled and his arms outstretched.
He began to slap his talons together to emphasize his next point. “Not only is it clearly imbalanced out of our favor, but the zebra believe they can take what they want from our gold reserves — and our iron! An absolute disgrace!” A roar of agreement came from various seats in the house.
“Nonsense!” A large eagless made her way down a set of steps onto the floor. Her wings unfurled, and glittered under the sunlight streaming through the round skylight. She looked majestic while stepping onto the cool colored mosaic floor, the centerpiece of the chambers. “The zebra are in good standing with the Confederacy! Think of the benefits they can bring to us! Our exports haven’t been in such demand in years! To even grace the savannas of the zebra with the sword and quill would be a blessing sent from the Six! Imagine the wealth, imagine how many noble gryphs we’d support from this deal!” More shouts came in support of her, starting a shouting match. The cries echoed off of the pillars surrounding the round chamber.
“By the Six, Gawydna,” Tor groaned, cradling his head in his talon. He turned to Gawydna, at his side. “How long are we going to be talking about this trade agreement? It feels like it’s been ages.”
"I have no idea," she replied with a chuckle. "But it looks like Maia is growing tired, too.” Tor looked across the hall towards the seat of the consul, Maia Highwind. On her flanks were the guests of honor: the Princess Celestia on her right, and Celestia's student to her left.
“To come at a time like this!” Tor toyed with a quill in its inkwell, frustrated. “It's embarrassing.”
“Well, we do have the say on international matters,” Gawydna said. "Even if she weren't here, we'd still have to deal with it."
“Send it back to the forum and have them tweak it, we have more important issues to discuss.”
Gawydna placed a friendly talon on his shoulder, slightly ruffling Tor's black senatorial banyan. “Don’t worry about it. Something tells me the consul is on your side...” A terrible crack of a gavel rang out in the chamber. The senate quieted as they looked to the consul’s seat.
“Clearly we have reached an impasse,” Maia boisterously proclaimed, standing from her seat. “I move to pass this back to the forum. We will break for recess, and will reconvene in the morning.” A general murmur of agreement washed over the senate.
“Aeristolice,” she asked, an ancient word of agreement. The phrase was echoed around the chamber. Maia struck the gavel down again, letting the senate leave their places.
“Thank you," Tor murmured, relieved. As he stood, he was accompanied by Gawydna,
“As a Razorwing, I would think you’d be more accustomed to such violent exchanges,” she commented, adjusting a bundle of books under her arm.
“Of a sort,” he replied, chuckling. “I’m accustomed to brandishing sharpened steel on our enemies, not using a sharpened tongue on my comrades. A bit of a learning curve.” Gawydna giggled.
“I hear steel could be a thing of the past,” she segued, digging through her books. "Very interesting reading I think you'd like to see."
Tor harrumphed. “What could be better than steel?” Gawydna pulled a small pamphlet from her books, with some effort to retrieve it between a couple of particularly heavy volumes. Opening it up and flipping through with a thumb, she stopped on a page showing what looked like a tube caressed by a plank of wood.
“What kind of weapon is this?" Tor snickered, glossing over the page. "If I wanted a crossbow without its mechanism, I’d rip the laithe off and be done with it!”
“You’d be surprised, Tor,” Gawdyna replied, raising her brow. “There’s a demonstration soon, it might be worth checking out.”
“I might go just so I can laugh.” The two continued up the marble stairs of the senate chambers, exiting through the central arch that served as the main entrance. Tor looked about after they passed through, moving past the crowd of senators hanging out outside.
“I must excuse myself, Gawd — I've a matter to ask the Consul about." He flashed a quick smile. "Let's grab lunch?” Before Gawydna could respond, Tor bound away. He walked around the rotunda that encapsulated the senate chambers. His shadow passed by high, white columns holding up the domed ceiling. He squeezed his way past a pair of squabbling senators before seeing the entourage that was the princess, her guards, and in the midst of it all, the consul herself.
Tor was taken aback by the princess, which was helped by the elegant party that accompanied her, a living sea of gold. Celestia was obscured by the shadow of a column, but even in darkness, she still shone bright. Tor couldn't help but be encapsulated by her elegance.
“My Consul,” he exclaimed, mentally shaking himself straight. He crossed an arm over his chest in salutation.
“Tor! My friend.” The grey gryphon turned around from talking to the princess, a smile on her beak. Polite as ever, Maia excused herself. She quickly latched her right arm around Tor's, pulling him close.
She kept to a whisper: “The Princess and I have a meeting with Consul Helgar from the forum. I need someone to keep watch over her student.” She shifted her eyes to the smaller pony talking with Celestia.
Tor, though disappointed, nodded and placed a friendly talon on the consul’s shoulder. “Of course, My Consul.”
“She’s a curious one, so keep her eagerness sedated, would you?”
“I'm sure that won't be too much of a problem, ma'am,” he assured.
"Wonderful." Maia turned her back to Celestia. From behind, Tor saw Maia nod, which in turn garnered a few uttered words from Celestia to her student. Maia's grip loosened as the small, golden colored pony began to trot over.
“And, Tor?” Maia's tone caused Tor to stiffen. “Expect me at your office some time tomorrow. We will have words between us.” She quickly flashed her emerald eyes to Tor’s saber, and then to his golden irises before leaving. He blinked, surprised, trying to clear his mind of worrying thoughts.
The student and Maia passed each other, nodding as they passed. They're so familiar with each other, Tor thought. Are equines more casual in diplomacy? It was normal for dignitaries to have a certain distance from Confederate heads of state, as a sign of respect to their hosts. Here, it was is if they were at a dinner party.
The young mare looked up to Tor with a small smile, to which he returned his own. She was a curious looking pony, with her saddlebags and braided white mane. These features were normal for an equine — what caught Tor's attention was the woven horn that jutted from her head.
Such a curious thing!
“My name is Golden Sunshine, student to Princess Celestia,” Sunshine said, bowing to Tor. “I would love to know your name, sir.”
“Lord Tor Razorwing, Miss. Senator of the Confederacy.” He returned with a bow of his own.
Golden Sunshine held out her left hoof, which forced the towering Tor to kneel. As he bent, he instinctively bumped his sword away with his tail. He clasped the hoof in his left talon, shaking it ever so gently. It was an odd extremity to shake, being so fuzzy and without fingers. Nevertheless, he appreciated her gesture.
It's the wrong talon — Er, hoof, but her heart is in the right place.
“Charmed, Lord Razorwing,” she said, smiling even wider. Her eyes grew wide with a gasp, raising a hoof to her mouth. “Oh, my! Are you alright?”
Tor cradled the left side of his face, forgetting he had bandages there. “Oh, no, no! It’s alright. Nothing a few days won’t fix.” He smiled to assure her.
“What happened?”
“Nothing, really." He shrugged idly. "Just a small scuffle.”
She cocked her head to the side. “This doesn't happen often to a senator, I hope?”
He shrugged again, throwing out a lopsided grin. “Yes, I hope so too.”
“I've never been in a fight like that before — Was it painful?”
“It’s not as bad as it could’ve been.” Tor forced himself up onto his back paws once more, carefully adjusting the saber. Sunshine’s brow raised as she inspected his care for the blade.
“You sure seem to like your sword,” she mused. Tor saw her look around, spying the abundance of curved weaponry hanging about. “Is this normal?"
Tor beckoned Sunshine to join him through the carpeted, alabaster rotunda. “It’s a status symbol we have,” he explained, both pleased and irked at the subject. “Your blade determines your place in life, the same as your cloth. We used to judge armor before we took the quill as our weapon of choice.”
“What do you mean?” She asked. She went in step with Tor, Sunshine bright eyed at the passing officials.
Sedate her curiosity. Tor smiled. Got it. “When we were a more ferocious type, knowing how wealthy you were in the clan determined your place. If your weapon and armor were expensive and better crafted—”
“You were well off,” she interrupted. Sunshine magically pulled a small notepad and charcoal pen from her saddlebags. She jotted down these points on a well-used piece of parchment. Although he was rudely stopped, Tor became further enticed with her magical prowess.
“You’ve quite the archive,” he noted offhandedly.
“Well, I sort of have to, y’know,” Sunshine answered. “Being an equinologist, and all.”
Tor raised a brow. “I'm sorry?”
“An equinologist.” She sighed in annoyance after responding.
A question she is obviously asked frequently, Tor realized.
“I study my people’s history, culture and politics," she continued. "How we came to be is important. In fact, it’s always important.”
He nodded, rubbing the top of a talon’s digit under his beak in thought. “Yes, this is true. Think of something like the Agreement of Veron — it was a very important facet of our history. A cornerstone, really.”
“Oh, please, please, please! Go on!” Sunshine's eyes widened as she looked at him, magically writing a few more notes down. Her tail whipped as wide as the growing smile on her muzzle. Her enthusiasm brought a smirk to Tor's beak.
“Ah, well...” He began, scratching the back of his neck. "It came about as a way to negotiate. It stopped five of the great clans from fighting, helping to establish the senate.”
Sunshine raised a brow, curious. “You have two governing bodies — not to mention you, historically, had eight great clans.”
Tor grunted at her casual parlance, though he was impressed with her knowledge of his history. “Yes, that’s true. But, there’s a reason for that.” Sunshine whipped the pen in circles in the air, eager for more.
“You have the other three clans,” he explained, idly counting them off on his right digits. “They went against the grain, and rejected the Agreement. It was then the merchant guilds of their respective provinces rebelled and acquired their holds.”
“What happened?”
“Money,” he replied, rubbing a thumb and fore-digit together. “It’s easy to buy off a military when you control the clan leader’s trade and finance. Buy a clan leader’s army, and you can remove him with ease.”
Sunshine's smile was bittersweet. “Funny. This has never happened with us before.”
“As I said, we were once very vicious creatures.” Tor gingerly rubbed his cheek.
“We once had three tribes, much like your own.”
“Ah, yes — I'm familiar. After ages of conflict, they came together after understanding they each have their own strengths and weaknesses?" He smirked, challenging: "Doesn’t sound like much of a real conflict, considering you ponies are so peace loving."
Sunshine exhaled sharply through her nostrils, stopping in her tracks. “I bet you’ve never heard of the Battle of Galloping Gorge in the first Era. Two thousand dead, earth ponies and unicorns!”
“Battle of the Flowing Red,” Tor rebutted, a talon raised. “Six thousand dead.”
“Siege of Castle Greymane, eight thousand dead, unicorns against the pegasi.”
“Massacre of the Shrieking Wind, twenty thousand dead. Razorwing clan against the Stormbeaks and Stonetalons.” He paused for dramatic effect, leaned down and smiled darkly. “We won." A mischievous smirk grew on Sunshine's face as Tor stood back up. Tor chuckled, feeling victorious.
“Fair enough,” she admitted, nodding in acquiescence. She looked through her notes briefly before clearing her throat. “So, the forum?” The two continued down the corridor before taking a swift right down a secondary passageway, still carpeted, but walled in dark spruce. It was by no means crowded, but bustling — zebra and gryphons quickly trotted past to their duties.
Tor continued: "It came about to modify the Agreement — they wanted more rights. They also demanded their own committee, which resulted in the forum. They have elected positions and represent the economic side of the Confederacy.”
“Wait, wait, hold up.” She stopped again, shaking her head while extending an outstretched hoof. “What do you mean?”
Tor cocked his head to the side, confused. He extended a talon in her direction. “What do you mean?”
“What are these... ‘rights?’”
“Well, you have the right to speech, the right to self-determination...” He paused momentarily musing on her question. “Do you not have rights?”
Sunshine tapped a hoof to her chin, her brow scowled in deep thought. She mouthed a few things to herself, never audible. Tor had heard of the many freedoms that Celestia gave the ponies of Equestria. It was near a completely free state.
How had she never heard of rights?
“We have, I guess, the right to rule by the Princess...?” Sunshine pursed her lips, trying to find the words.
“Well, what we mean by rights are freedoms guaranteed by the state, which are aside from our innate liberties. Beside those, the merchants demanded economic advancement, something that was not normally practiced in the clanhood. As for social interaction, that’s a different story.” Sunshine was still sporting the perplexed look, continuing her scribe work. She looked slow and methodical at first, but resumed her previous speed, scribbling furiously in the margins. He had no idea how to read her language, but Tor hoped to lead her in the right direction.
“I have someone who you should talk to.” Beckoning Sunshine along, he approached an oaken door at the end of the corridor and gave it a quick rapping. A muffled “Come in,” sounded from inside. Tor grasped the door's golden clasp and slid it aside into its pocket.
A young tiercel sat behind a desk, which itself sat in front of another oaken door. He stood, a silver hilted long blade, not curved, swung from his belt.
“Lord Razorwing,” he began, placing an arm over his chest.
“No need for such formalities, Varren!” Tor said, smiling. “I’m only here for a social call.”
“Oh, of course! Is it just you, or...” Varren looked to Sunshine and back to Tor with a raised brow.
“The mare is with me.”
“Of course, My Lord." The secretary left his desk and tapped on the second door in the room. After a moment, he cracked it open, talking through the space. Varren turned from the crack and gestured to the door. Tor and Sunshine made their way through, closing it behind them.
“Tor, my friend,” the tiercel inside exclaimed, chipper as ever. “Good to see you! And the little miss, how marvelous!” The grey-and-black-peppered lord looked from Tor to Golden Sunshine, smiling from behind his large desk. Sunshine — pulled from her thoughts— scowled.
A nickname to disregard, Tor thought with a smirk.
“My apologies, my dear," Tor's friend continued. "We’re so used to our fellows on four legs being taller.”
Before she could respond, Tor quickly interjected. “Gaius.”
“I mean, you ponies are so short!” He stood from his desk, which obscured half of the massive, obsidian fireplace behind it. “Who would’ve known? I’ve met fledglings taller than ponies like her!”
“Gaius,” Tor called, with more emphasis. Gaius made his way around the desk, grabbing a book and his own charcoal pen. He kneeled in front of Sunshine with wide eyes and a gawking beak, pen at the ready. She took a hesitant step back as his talon hovered above a blank page.
“As much as we know about you, we really don’t keep a lot of biological records of your kind.”
“Gaius Stormbeak!”
Gaius looked up at Tor, his voice innocent. “What, Tor? Can't you keep your voice down for one day?”
“Do you mind?” Tor pointed to Sunshine, trying her best to squeeze through the wall. Gaius backed up, and returned to an upright stance, his sword’s hilt bouncing off of his red skinned book.
“My apologies,” he said bashfully, nodding to Tor, and then to Sunshine.
Tor shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re the resident archivist here,” he began. “Do you mind talking to this young mare about—”
“About her history? Oh, my, of course.” Gaius raised a talon’s fore-digit, beginning a matter-of-fact recitation, which felt like it sped by like an over-fueled locomotive. “We have records from all the way back before Celestia’s rule, I’ll have you know. Did you know that we have first talon accounts from gryphon mercenaries in the royal sisters’ army? We have records from the defeat of Discord, the assault on the Crystal Empire... though strangely enough, nothing from the expulsion of Luna.” He chuckled to himself.
“No, Gaius, I mean—”
“But! We do have plenty of works from across the sea. We had a lot of records and documents from the years after the banishment. You won’t believe the amount of books we rescued.”
It was Sunshine’s turn to pipe up. “Rescued?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes. Many an author escaped the hoof of Celestia during the Purge of the Third —” Gaius stopped himself suddenly, giving the guests mental whiplash. He dropped his talon, eyeing the mare intently. “Oh, goodness.”
“Gaius?” Tor asked.
“Never mind what I said," Gaius whispered urgently, as if he’d mentioned taboo. He dropped the subject quickly, hoping to sweep it under the proverbial rug. Significantly slower than how he’d started, he continued, “Tor, what is it you needed?”
“I, was hoping you’d talk to the mare about the Agreement of Veron more. I don’t know everything and since you’re the archivist —”
“Of course, my friend." Gaius aimed a talon at an empty chair. "Miss, if you could take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.” The mare, hesitant, looked to Tor. Tor nodded to her, silently assuring her it was going to be alright. She made her way to a plush seat next to the desk, levitating her saddlebags off. Gaius, however, grabbed his Tor's arm, his grip hanging on for dear life.
“I mentioned the Purge,” he whispered nervously. “Six help me!”
“Don’t worry, my friend,” Tor said, gently patting Gaius' arm. “Just stick to the Agreement, and you’ll be fine. I’ll send word to the consul that she’s in your stead.”
“But, the Purge, Tor. The Purge!”
“Don’t talk about it any more. If anything, she’ll ask Celestia and she’ll keep her away from it. Ponies don’t know about the Purge, and neither shall she. Celestia was very thorough burning that part of her history away.”
“You know the political implications.”
“Then deny it. We’ll be behind you, Six mark my words.” His arm was released as Gaius steadied himself, returning to a chipper tone, even if a facade.
“Now, my dear,” Gaius began, turning around, “About the Agreement...”
Tor arrived at his own office down the hall five minutes afterwards. An uncommon sight welcomed him: there was no gryphon behind the secretary's desk, only a lonely stack of documents. As lonely as it was, he felt it more necessary to deal with his affairs personally — and to give himself more privacy were it ever wanted. It was his sanctuary here in the Spire, the center of government.
The documents felt a little heavy when he retrieved it from the inbound box. Making no mind of it, he passed from the secretary’s chambers into his own, and spread the documents along the top of his large, polished desk. He neatly organized eight papers, and separated the source of the weight from the stack. He smiled as he organized, happy to be away from the bustle outside. Being so isolated gave him a chance to refresh himself and reflect on the day.
Not to mention sip the wine, he mused.
Deciding to nip his curiosity in the bud, he grabbed the bulging, heavy package and expertly cut open the side of the envelope. As a sharpened talon sliced through one of the short sides, a few coins spilled, landing with a metallic plink on his desk. They were as he had suspected: Confederate coinage. He poured the rest out, creating a golden waterfall, spreading about haphazardly. After recovering the bounty, he slowly counted up the pieces, making up...
“Ninety-seven and and a half pieces,” he said aloud. “Now, who in Tartarus would give me such exact change?” He mentally calculated, drawing out the equation in the air with a fore-digit. It was roughly the cost of postage and the envelope, and one more. Looking back into the envelope for a stray coin, he produced a lightly wrinkled sheet of folded parchment.
The missing two fourth-pieces, he realized with a grin.
He unfolded the letter, curious if this was a poor excuse for a bribe, or the wrongly-sent ransom of some poor laborer. He was wrong on both counts:
Lord Tor Razorwing,
I humbly ask for your thanks and forgiveness at my expense. What you did for me was extraordinary, and I am too humbled to accept your offerings to a blazed. I don’t know if the post will allow admittance of my package, but I only did this just to calm my own mind, and hopefully not your own. To see the lamplight grace your steel with such fire sent my heart aflutter; I was no longer feeling my heart race to embrace death, but I was seeing the actions of a lord defend a wretch like me.
I am not accustomed to writing to those above me with my own name adorning the envelope. However, I cannot keep myself from doing so. Thank you for your kindness and generosity, but I don’t need it. That luxury was stripped from my name long ago.
-R
Tor's tail wagged, with a curious smile plastered on his beak.
Of all the letters, he thought. This was the one I least expected! He read it a second time. Then a third, and as his eyes began to dry, a fourth time. The message was a lovely thanks — in fact, a thanks he had never expected. He was surprised at he script used. It was beautiful, flowing.
He put the document down and set it aside for later. He approached the small bar that nestled itself in a corner nearest to the pocket door. Readying a wine glass, he poured a shining blue liquid from a crystalline bottle sitting on the stone counter top. He nipped a bit of it, exhaling with a satisfied smile.
With glass in talon, he returned to his desk. He intricately picked up the first document on the far left side. He read while downing another sip of the booze.
Good morrow, lord. The citizen’s council of the province of — That writing was very profound. Where did she learn— He interrupted his thoughts and chuckled. Now, now, Tor!
— province of Razorhold cordially ask for your attention to be brought up about the dam on the Sickle River. We understand that you are now entertaining the Celestial Principality, however — I mean, think about it! A blazed with that kind of skill in writing! An interesting turn of events. I think she could be a scribe, no? How can— He sighed, frustrated.
His eyes drifted from the page to Rovena's letter, and replaced the official correspondence with it. He handled it lightly as he made his way over to the rubbish bin that situated itself next to the desk. He let his talon hover above the bin’s wide, square opening.
Tor’s arm became stone, letting the clock tick by second by second. But he could not will himself to unclasp Rovena's letter. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, walking back to the desk. The letter found its home within his blank parchment drawer, to be saved for later.
He returned to the the first document, finishing it and its accompanying pages tacked together on the back. He moved on through the second, then the third, losing all sight and mind of the page itself. Coming upon the fourth bit of correspondence, he looked around the desk for his pen, nowhere to be found.
He thoughtlessly pulled on the familiar bronze handle of his parchment drawer. As the light graced the inside, he laid eyes back onto the beautifully scripted letter.
“Six damn it,” he exclaimed, slamming the drawer, shaking the desk.
“Whoa there, my friend," a familiar voice said. Looking ahead, Gaius was leaning on the doorframe with a playful smirk. “Were you thinking of moving a portrait again?”
Tor looked down at the drawer, unamused. “The drawer’s just stuck,” he lied. “When did you get in, I didn't hear you?”
“You didn’t notice the door slide open?” Gaius asked, treading over to Tor’s side of the desk. He casually opened the parchment drawer. Tor gave Gaius a defeated shrug before his ears flopped back in horror as Gaius withdrew the letter.
“Well, well, well! Quite the pretty script,” he said impressed.
“That’s none of your concern,” Tor replied, reaching for the letter.
“Nonsense, this is beautiful! It’s about time you started looking for a secretary.” Tor's ears flipped back up in calm as Gaius put the letter back where it came from.
“Of course,” Tor grabbed his nearly exhausted glass and finished it off. “Thought I could use the help. You know how it is with the summer rush.”
Gaius, without missing a beat: “Is she cute?”
Tor crinkled his brow with suspicion. “How do you know it’s an eagless?”
“Aside from just telling me,” he began, making a circling motion with an idle talon, “the writing is fluid and thin. Delicate and, dare I say — beautiful?”
Tor scoffed.
“Come now, Tor! I read and organize countless writings. I know an eagless’ from a tiercel’s.”
“Aye, that you would,” Tor conceded.
“Now, I know you heard me, you wolf. Is she cute, or no?”
“I have no idea. It’s a blind submission.” Tor sighed, rubbing his temples. He quickly changed topics. “How was Golden Sunshine?”
Gaius guffawed. “Well, I avoided an international incident, which is excellent for me." He idly played with his nails, rubbing a thumb over them. "Keeping on the subject of the Agreement, while avoiding a point of history forbidden to be mentioned? Perfect.”
“I had no doubt.”
“Oh, yes! Curious little thing, she is though — And to imagine this happened over three hours! I’m glad you told Varren to send a message to the consul." He then chortled. "I can only imagine Celestia’s mug if she couldn’t find her student!” Tor blinked, bewildered. He looked up behind him to the old clock resting on the cool marble mantle.
“Six’s name!" He exclaimed, barely believing the time. "it’s been three hours?” Time flies when you're having fun, yes?
Gaius’ black banyan wrinkled as he sat on the desk. “Working hard, eh? You do look rather worn, Tor. I think we should medicate that.”
Tor held up a firm talon. "I don't think that's necessary."
Gaius crossed his arms in a playful pout. “Why not?”
Tor gestured to the parchment around his desk with the talon. “Because I’m busy.”
“Oh, boo hoo.” Gaius approached the bar and inspected the bottles inside. “What’s the worst a hangover could do?”
“I don’t know." Tor gestured idly. "Making a decision on a major trade —”
“By the Six, Tor — Don’t you have anything strong?” Tor raised a brow as Gaius turned in his crouch to expose a dusty old bottle.
Tor rose in his seat. “That’s two hundred year old cognac, you clown! Don't break it, it's good stuff!”
“Maybe for a stuffy old Lord like yourself. You should taste the firewater the plebs have! Now that’s a drink that can call you its own.” After saying this, the good Lord Stormbeak smiled mischievously.
“Gaius,” Tor warned, a twinge of hostility in his voice.
“It’s perfect! Let’s make our way down to the fourth tier! I know a few good bars out there, they know my name.” Tor rolled his eyes. If Gareth knew even half the rumors about Gaius, he’d try and kill him!
“Why should I join you?”
“Because,” Gaius pointed a digit at Tor. “It’s fun. I don’t remember the last time you I got knickered together.”
Tor scowled. “It’s because the last time I did, I groped a waitress and attempted to lock my beak with Paxia, whip of the forum.”
“That was after we left the service, five years ago!" Gaius waved a pulling motion to him. "C’mon, you wolf.”
Tor sat back down, determined to get to work. “You’re not giving me a reason to go.”
“My treat?”
Tor hesitated, his talon hovering over another document. He sighed with a reserved smile. “I better sober up by the time I get home.”