He glanced over his shoulder. "Behave."įallon wanted the floor to open and swallow him. "I don't need you teasing me now." A bell rang at the door and a page ducked her head in to announce the guildmaster. Even such a small sniffle caught in his chest and he felt his nostrils flare, the only warning he had before another pair of sneezes forced its way out. He sniffed, hoping that somehow this would fly by without requiring his input or him drawing attention to himself. Trade discussions were the worst, and Adrial often took out any frustration with Fallon afterward. Any hope of being dismissed early went out the window. The head of the merchants' guild was coming to discuss tariffs for the new year. He rose stiffly and took a position behind the chaise, hastily reviewing the appointments in his book.
Avernum 6 plot skin#
Try to act like a proper advisor." Rings glittered against his dark skin as he waved Fallon to the side.įallon swallowed, chastised, because he had forgotten. "Did you forget that I have an audience this afternoon? Get up. He took a knee, but when he glanced up to assess the duke's mood, he found Adrial shaking his head. "Come here."įallon tried not to let his jaw tighten as he walked up to the self-styled throne. "That's unfortunate." Adrial's voice was light with mirth. His ears and throat itched maddeningly and he wanted to wash the inside of his head out with cold water. Though he could often be taken by an affliction of sneezing, this was unusually intense. He pushed up his glasses with an elegant finger and tried not to let on how terrible he was beginning to feel. The soft, pale skin around his eyes and nostrils was rosy with irritation and felt hot to the touch. "I've lost coundt," he muttered in response, straightening. Of course, Adrial was a duke and could do whatever he wanted. He wasn't a particularly sympathetic man on the best of days, and whenever Fallon found himself in a tight spot, it always seemed to be exacerbated by Adrial. "How many times have you sneezed today?" Adrial was draped over the chaise lounge at the head of the room, as usual, observing with an annoying smugness. "Wow," drawled his companion, who had long since given up on blessing his advisor. The abrupt change in posture sent his golden hair flying into his face and his glasses slipping down his slim nose. Fallon bent with the sneeze, clutching his schedule book to his chest and trying to direct most of the spray to the side.
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