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Liorah shifted uncomfortably, her fingers threading around the tassels at the corners of her shirt.  She frowned.  “Don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Misu bit his lip.  This is awkward.  He felt Liorah’s wary eyes burning right through him, slowly withering his resolve.  How it would feel to be trusted just this once…

“You’re much too free with your words,”

Misu could see him clearly now, chiding him distractedly as he cleaned a revolver.

“You’ll give away something important here if you don’t learn to shut your mouth.”

Misu smiled wryly.  If only Avathi were here.  Of course, Avathi would have much more to lecture him about if he could see him now.  He wouldn’t be too happy to see him in 2,000 years outdated clothes, and of course he would complain about the fact that he still hadn’t switched to firearms.  And losing the Shrike?  That’s a thought best left untouched.

Liorah’s companion shifted, snapping Misu back to the present.  His dog jumped up, gazing up at him with soft, friendly eyes.  At least their dog is a good judge of character.  And who could hardly blame them?  There was something uncanny about this place.  He forced a smile.

“Oh well.  You’d know if you saw him.  He has a nasty habit of bending re-”  Misu winced.  Yet another near aversion of a verbal disaster.  He sighed.  “Never mind.  It isn’t important.”  Yet.  He bit his lip nervously.  Something he had said had deeply troubled these companions, although he couldn’t say exactly what.

It was the part about finding myself here wasn’t it?  Or was it the part about the Shrike?  The first time I mentioned him, that is.  Am I just talking too much?  I’m talking too much.  Did I even tell them about the Shrike to begin with?  What about a truce, will that convince them?  If it doesn’t then nothing will.  Is that why they’re scared?  Because people try to kill each other here?  I hope not.  What if someone tried to kill me?  That would be even more awkward…

Misu extended his hand, trying to ignore the two companion’s deeply uncomfortable gazes, trying to swallow the nervous tension gathering in his own throat.  “Truce?”