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/tg/ - Traditional Games


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>> No.47602767 [View]


... right. Well, to be perfectly honest, you can't blame her for tailing you (or IF for putting her up to this). You can't even get mad at this. In any other country, having a goddess vouch for you as a friend would open a lot of doors; here, given Neptune's lackadaisical air-headedness, that recommendation might not count for a lot, especially when she'd already been ambushed once.

You pull up one of the waiting room's chairs and sit down, your armor clattering at the motion. Ignoring Compa jumping in surprise, you fish around your inventory, pulling out a flask and twisting off the top, inhaling deeply. Really, there's nothing like the faint musty smell of fort-grown, fort-distilled mushroom booze, evoking the comfortably closed-in underground with just one whiff.

Okay. Well, let's take this from the top, you growl roughly. You're Urist Twelfthbay, and her name is... Compa, right?

"Ah... yes, it is!" She stares at you for a moment before straightening up, dropping out of her battle stance to give a slight bow. "Um, it's very nice to meet you. Please don't touch my butt again, otherwise I'll stick this in you!"

... you very nearly spit your mouthful of booze all over the floor. You force it roughly down your throat without bothering to savor it, preferring to almost choke rather than spill any. Is she fucking serious right now?

"No, I'm not fu... f-wording anything right now!" Compa stammers, briefly stumbling over the curse like it's a dirty word. "But I am very serious! It's not good to touch anyone like that!"

But it was-

"Even if it was in self-defense!" she insists, frowning disapprovingly. It's not very effective or particularly intimidating, but that just makes you feel somewhat bad.

... nngh. You scratch your head, taking the chance to shift your braids over the back of your chair. Fine. You'll apologize for that, if nothing else. You don't want people getting the wrong idea.


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