A Proud Suiard
Micarth no longer knew what to say. All of this preparation flew out the window and his experience, or lack thereof, was showing plainly. To make matters worse, his cough still hadn't disappeared and the more he tried to stop it, the worse it became. Every time he held the cough back, there would be a slight few seconds of silence before the fit began again. He was making his own situation worse and worse by not allowing it to see itself through to the end.
It was when the situation seemed unsalvageable and his face was as ripe as a tomato that a young man stepped forward.