"Got something to say, little meat?" Kaelen rumbled, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Kaelen pulled back his free fist, ready to smash Jason’s face into pulp.

Kaelen’s fist froze mid-swing. His slit-pupiled eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You have... really nice skin," Jason blurted out.

The other guild members—Mira the catborn and Helga the dwarf—raised their brows. Even the patrons who had been hiding their faces peeked up from their tables.

But this was the first time the reptile had heard something nice being said about him.

"Your skin," Jason repeated, forcing his voice to stay steady. "It’s... rugged. Distinguished. You can tell you’ve been through battles. Real battles. Not like those pretty boy guards outside with their polished armor. You’ve got character."

Kaelen stared at Jason for a long moment. Then he dropped him.

"Did you mean that?" Kaelen asked. His voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. It was strange hearing that deep, grinding rumble sound so uncertain.

"I meant every word," Jason said, nodding slowly. "Look at you. You don’t have soft scales like some overgrown lizard. You’ve got texture. History. When people see you coming, they don’t see some clean, boring soldier. They see a warrior who’s survived things that would kill most people."

"And your build," Jason continued, gesturing at the reptile’s massive frame. "Most creatures that size are slow. Clumsy. But you? The way you moved when you grabbed me? Fast. Precise. That takes discipline."

Kaelen was eating it up. His scarred snout lifted slightly, and his yellow eyes—still cold, still predatory—now held something else. Approval.

The creature behind the counter scrambled to comply, grabbing two mugs and filling them with something dark and frothy.

Jason raised the mug and took a long sip. The liquid burned going down—some kind of strong ale or mead—but he didn’t complain. He just smiled and nodded at Kaelen like they were old buddies.

Jason didn’t mean anything he said whatsoever. The insincerity was dripping from every word. His tone was fake. His compliments were generic. His body language screamed desperation.

"Is he stupid?" Thalion thought to himself regarding Kaelen. "How does someone that powerful survive with such a complete lack of discernment?"

Helga just shook her head and muttered something under her breath that sounded like "every damn time."

"You know," Ylva said quietly to Thalion, "I hate how good he is at that."

Kaelen clapped Jason on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward. "Sit with us, little meat. I want to hear more about my skin."

"Of course," Jason said, sliding into a seat at the guild’s table. "But only if your friends join too. I’d love to hear about their adventures."

Helga grunted and dropped her massive shield onto the floor with a thunderous clang. "Get the man another drink. He’s going to need it."

He glanced back at Ylva and Thalion, silently begging them to rescue him.

Then she took a long, slow drink and turned away.

But Kaelen was already talking again, describing a recent hunt in vivid, gory detail, and Jason had no choice but to nod along and pray that his lies continued to hold.