Tahl had to smile a little, despite himself. This Anapa character was so, so not from around here, and so matter-of-fact, and so socially oblivious he was making Tahl feel like some worldly gentleman…for the first time in his entire life. Probably the only time it would ever happen, too.
“You shake it,” He said, nodding in the direction of his outstretched hand. Then, when the weirdo still seemed perplexed, Tahl took the initiative and grasped his hand in a firm, but brief, handshake. “It’s a way of saying hello. Man, where are you from?” His tone had lost all its former rancor, adopting an almost playful slant. Which was not to say he wasn’t genuinely curious. Every world he knew of – Shaman, Earth, the Schyllipas – at least had to have heard of a handshake, even if it wasn’t in practice. Maybe Anapa was from a place beyond the reach of the Originals.
Now, that was a novel concept.
“Well, first, it sounds like you need to get out more,” Tahl began, returning his hands to his hips and canting his head to the side a little, his smirk persisting. “Second, so do I. The only place I know of is the Stone Dragon, really. Which isn’t a place castle Lords usually pop in for a beer, but since you seem to have made up your mind, I’ll take you to it.” He could use a beer, come to think of it. Bryar had cheated him of the last one. With an exaggerated flourish, he indicated the direction they should travel, and began walking.
They weren’t far from the road, but Tahl avoided it, sticking instead to the game trails that ran approximately parallel but provided more cover. He doubted his face was on a Wanted poster, but the roads were patrolled by Mordred’s goons sometimes, and Tahl didn’t want to find himself answering awkward questions. Especially not with this loon for company; he suspected Anapa was an even worse liar than he was.
“So,” he ventured as they traveled, “you’re, what, the castle’s death-alarm? That sounds like a shit job.”
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