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“I already told you I’m understimulated. Do you really think I want to talk about meetings? You know you want to dance. Why not give in?” The mage assassin shimmied his faux fur-clad shoulders.
“That looks more like a wet dog shaking off the excess water.”
“I’ll add it to the list of classics.”
I frowned. “Classics?”
“You know, White Man’s Overbite. Shopping Cart. The Sprinkler.” He shimmied his shoulders again. “And now Wet Dog.”
I smiled. Despite his murdering tendencies, Gun had a way of brightening up a room.
He plucked the flute from my hand. “Come, milady. We’re here, and the music is tight. We might as well make the most of it.”
He didn’t give me a chance to object. I was propelled to the dance floor by an unseen force. My butt only made it halfway through a shimmy when a fight broke out. I couldn’t see the participants, only the crowd widening around them. Gun and I were pushed to the edge of the floor in the process.
Shrugging off his faux fur and handing it to me, Gun shot to the middle of the floor before I had time to assess the situation. Trust an assassin to run headlong into danger. And trust a fashionista to leave his best piece behind. I wasn’t sure what he intended to do.
Vaughn appeared beside me, holding a bottle of champagne. “What happened?”
“Seems like a fight.” I couldn’t see past the massive minotaurs now in front of me.
“Cool. Is Gun in it?”
“He was understimulated, so probably.”
Vaughn squinted. “Who brought a wild boar to a bar?”
I looked at him sideways. “How drunk are you?”
He pointed to the dance floor where a boar was, in fact, charging his way blindly through the crowd. The dancers were either too inebriated or too distracted by the fight to notice.
The wild boar was a dense package of four feet by eight feet covered in thick brown fur. A set of sharp tusks protruded from either side of its snout. The animal seemed scared and confused by the crowd. It had probably wandered in from the woods in search of food.
Vaughn regarded the creature with detached interest. “Someone should probably do something about that.”
“He’s going to get hurt in that pit of flailing bodies,” I agreed. Or he’d hurt someone else. The boar’s tusks looked sharp enough to slice a hole straight through a dancer’s thigh muscle.
Vaughn polished off the rest of the champagne in the bottle and set it down on the floor with a flourish. “I’ll tell Josie.”
The boar continued its assault on the dance floor, butting its head against anything that moved. I was relieved to see Gun emerge from the mass of bodies, unscathed.
“Is there a wild boar on the dance floor, or am I drunker than I thought?” he asked.
“There’s a wild boar.”
The fighting seemed to spread closer to us. I watched as one of the minotaurs picked up a shorter patron and tossed him casually across the room, as though disposing of garbage.
“This is getting out of hand,” I said.
Gun was grinning ear to ear. “I know! Isn’t it awesome?”
“Is there a tarot card you can use to remove the boar?” I asked.
“I’d rather not risk breaking any guild rules,” Gun said.
“I didn’t say to kill it.”
“I know, but what if I did accidentally? It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
