All eyes, whether belonging to mortal candidates or kingly sponsors, were pointed at the absentee's table. As did a tidal wave of murmurs, comments, and scoffs.
"Where the hell is Oli-ver!"
Yeter barely kept his cool, glaring at Zelsh who feigned being ignorantly drunk.
"He can't miss this! Why's he still not here?"
Shrugging, the Sabertooth Baboon sharing that table tried to laugh off the demeaning stares.
"Maybe he's just running late–?"
"Late? We've been here for two suns!" Yeter yelled mid-whisper. "And he still hasn't shown his face. Something's gotta be wrong!"
Kako picked his teeth with a fingernail. "I don't know. It looks like your master is more than comfortable. Shouldn't that mean Oliver is fine, despite not being here–"
"I don't know what my hammered master is thinking!"
Yeter did his best to not shout too loudly, intent on not riling up the petty wyrm king.
