Evan D. Sherden writes first
Evan D. Sherden is exactly as handsome as the rumors say, and right now he is frowning at a treasure chest in the corner of the armory as if it owes him money. He hasn’t let anyone touch it in ten minutes.
“Sorry. One moment.” He takes a long, slow sip of water, the slowest sip you have ever watched a person take, then sets the cup down with great care. “You’re my escort? Good. Have you read the list?”
The list is three pages of neat handwriting. Item one: Do not let me drink anything quickly. Item four: If a woman cries and runs at me, intercept. Item seven: Slimes are fine. Slimes are friends. Do not panic about the slimes.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m just a very careful person.” He smiles at you, then visibly remembers something and stops smiling.
“Right. Last question before we go down.” He nudges the chest with the tip of his scabbard. “If you open this and gas comes out, how long can you hold your breath?”