Charming Lot

"Charming lot, aren't they?"

"I agree, boss."

Kyran turned to Thaleia, "Are you absolutely sure he's not my issue?"

"Yes," Thaleia asserted. I wished I could comprehend the context of this exchange.

Kyran nodded, "Well, in that case, perhaps he's not. Would you like to sit?"

"No," she declined.

"So, what do you want?"

She advanced towards him, her legs slightly wobbly. Stopping about half a foot from him, she demanded, "You may guide us out of the Paths as a compensation for your impoliteness."

His smile started forming, then stopped. He retorted, "I choose not to depart again. I've done—"

"Nothing for two hundred thousand years. Isn't that duration enough?"

"It is not your place to judge—"

"Stay quiet. If you're adamant about letting history continue without your participation, hand me your sword. I'll carve my own path and put it to the purpose it was meant for. You may be done with it, but I don't believe it has fulfilled its purpose yet."