The Ancient Order

"As the lady wishes, of course. Let no one say the Halovian Shrine Ho plows the fields like a common laborer."

Ingrid nodded. "The fuck I don't. You're exactly right, except for my being a 'lady.' If one gets shitfaced as much as I do, that title no longer applies."

But onto the sentient books he forgot to tell her about. "Do I want to see a sentient book? I dunno, is grass green? Do birds shit everywhere?" Ingrid stood up and stretched like a cat, and her back made a noise like popcorn in a microwave. "We can talk about what's-her-face's crime on the way there. And I don't think you have to worry about me using the guild's information for war... Unless somebody's trying to ban booze, in which case all bets are off. Glad to know you wouldn't mind harboring me as a Halovian fugitive, though," she said, meeting his solemn gaze with sparkling eyes and a grin on her face. Somebody takes himself a little too seriously, huh?