"Um, you're welcome." Les almost asked it. She was at that place again, where she didn't know what to ask first. "What?" was all she could get out. Grant leaned back in his seat and laughed at her.
"Yes, I suppose that does about sum it up. I'll do my best to explain things." He adjusted his seating position and rang a small bell. Les didn't think that had explained anything. Then a door opened and Master Gilroy brought in a tray bearing drinks and served them. Grant thanked him and took a drink. Les held her glass in her hand and studied Grant as he drank. There was so much about him that did not make sense. His hands were rough as someone's might be from manual labor, but they also bore the ink stains of a scribe. His hair was short, but still shaggy and he wore a tunic with trousers much like her own. It was at noticing this that Les suddenly felt inadequately dressed to be in his presence. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, so she drank her drink to hide it. Grant set down his glass and stared off into space, oblivious to what Les was doing. Then he began his tale.  

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