Moe brightens immediately.
I find that for the first time, I don’t mind this type of interaction between them. Perhaps Lis has finally beaten my delusions out of me.
We sit down around a small fire as Moe hands out plates full of thick, juicy meat stew.
Lis is as dignified as ever as she eats. She doesn’t even hold the bowl, using her powers instead to levitate it in the air in front of her. She takes a small spoonful, chews for a few moments, then pauses.
Moe blinks as she anxiously awaits her friend’s verdict. “How is it?”
Then, in a tone so solemn one would think she had received a divine revelation, says, “This is glorious.”
From that day onward, we begin eating together after training almost every evening.
One would think this would be slightly awkward, especially after I accused her and Moe of some clandestine flirtation. Well, I’m happy to report that we’ve moved past that…somewhat.
Lis and I spend most meals bickering while Moe tries and fails to keep us civil. But then she gets a bit too close to Lis and I have to pull her back and remind her I’m the only one she can bethatclose to.
She understands now of course. She pats my head and calls me agood boybefore continuing to talk to Lis as if nothing happens, but from a moderate distance.
“You drop your right shoulder before every heavy strike,” Lis remarks one evening while eating some sort of herb-seasoned steak Moe has made.
I scowl over my bowl. “Can we save that forafterdinner?”
“No. Your flaws persist whether seated or standing.”
Moe laughs into her spoon.
“I landed three hits today.”
“Two and a half.”
“There is no such thing as half a hit.”
“There is when one lacks conviction.”
“You are intolerable.”
“And yet educational,” she fires back.
I have no comeback to that since it is the truth. We might argue day in and day out, but I respect her as my teacher—even when what she tells me rubs me the wrong way.
Another night, after I manage to force Lis to actually retreat during sparring—by accident, though we won’t mention that—I sit beside the fire feeling quite smug about myself.
“That was deliberate,” I brag to Moe as she hands me a plate.
Lis snorts. “No, it was desperate.”
“It worked.”
“By accident.”
“Your bitterness only proves I am improving.”
“My bitterness stems from seeing too much overconfidence in mediocre men.”
Moe nearly chokes laughing. I glare at both of them.
“I am not… mediocre,” I grumble.
