“So,” began Gwydd, setting the bowl before his partners, “I’ve put some thought into how one bowl of soup can be divided three ways…”
“Mine!” snapped Faileuba, plunging her spoon into the watery mixture.
“Mine!” snapped Meliadus in reply. The Goblin watched the pair devour the soup, and then with a sigh, began to dip his own spoon in.
A few minutes later, the spoons were hitting the bottom of an empty bowl. “Hmmph.” Faileuba crossed her arms and pouted. “The innkeepers ‘round here are tight bastards, aren’t they?”
Meliadus nodded. “I think that was… water with an onion in it. Which barely qualifies as soup.”
“But enough to charge us for it,” added Faileuba.
“Yep.” Holdfast slapped his hands together. “We salute you, masters of the bare minimum.”
Gwydd held his head in hands. “When I left my home, I thought I knew what hardship could do to you. But look me. I’m becoming more animal than man!”
“Well, good,” said Meliadus. “We can put you in a cart, and start exhibiting you in fairs. That ought to pay for some meals.”
“We could call him ‘manimal’!” suggested Faileuba.
Meliadus shook his head. “Nah, that just sounds cheesy.”
“I am glad my continuing degradation amuses you,” said Gwydd.
“We’ve been degraded a lot longer than you have, Palepole,” noted Faileuba. “It hasn’t killed us yet.”
“Though not for lack of trying,” added Meliadus.
“Oh, that’s a given.” Faileuba regarded the remnants of their meal. “You know, if we licked the bottom of the bowl, we might get a little more soup.”
“I’m game if you are,” said Meliadus.
The pair picked up the bowl and set it neatly between them. Gwydd stared for a moment, then stood up. “I’m leaving you two to your latest… enthusiasm,” he stated.
“Hey, fine,” said Faileuba. “Just means more for us.”
Gwydd walked away, and did his best to ignore the sounds coming from his table. It had been a pretty bad few months, even by their admittedly lackluster standards, months that had wiped out all the funds they’d made from a period of good…ish jobs. What they needed was an opportunity, something he didn’t think they’d…
There was an opportunity posted on the wall of the inn. Gwydd pulled it off, and turned to inform Holdfast and Palepole.
He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“You know,” said a waitress, “we usually force people to get a room if they engage in that here.”
“Trust me,” sighed Gwydd, “they’re just eating.”
The woman smiled. “Well, I guess that’s true in a way…”
“No, you have to trust me on this,” said the Goblin. “I have watched these two drink beer from each other’s mouths to make it last longer.”
The woman stared at him for a moment, then looked back at the pair. “Yeah, they’re going to have to get a room.”
Gwydd sighed. “That’s… probably a fair call.”