Women, they're nothing but trouble! Bartlett's father would always drone on like this after he'd had a few drinks.
That pretentious man would sit in the courtyard, one hand holding a wine glass, the other stroking the old dog lying at his feet, watching the sun slowly disappear between the mountains. His tone was full of disdain, resentment, and... fondness.
As for Bartlett, he didn't exactly agree with this statement, but he didn't disagree either. Because sometimes women do mean trouble, like, right now.
The woman before him, who looked like a Bee Queen in both dress and demeanor, was now raising her head with a proud smile, striding toward him. Adventurers nearby moved aside like seawater parted by a reef as she passed.
