Hansim gave Gikan's shoulder a gentle pat, a smirk still on his face.
"So… where is that bulky, muscle-headed friend of yours? Hmm?"
He looked around the guild hall.
"I was expecting him to make a loud entrance by now."
Gikan sighed heavily, already massaging his temple.
"Ugh… don't ask."
Hansim raised an eyebrow.
Gikan muttered.
"That brawl-obsessed, thick-headed Braham is probably training with ten adventurers at once, or passed out drunk, or arguing with a weaponsmith about making his axe bigger. Again."
Hansim chuckled softly, like a man watching two fools fight over a stick.
"Still obsessed with fighters, I see."
"He's convinced every guild problem can be solved with either a punch or a drinking contest."
"Has he tried both at the same time?"
Gikan looked tired.
"Don't tempt fate."
Hansim's grin widened slightly, and with a smooth, practiced motion, he poked Gikan in the ribs.
"So…" he drawled, almost singing.
