Written long ago for Goldenlake's Wyldon Winter.
"Excuse me," Alanna of Pirate's Swoop said stiffly, "But do you really expect me to camp within five feet of that man?" She pointed at Wyldon of Cavall's turned back.
Rubbing his right temple, King Jonathan muttered, "Will you please grow up, Alanna? I've had enough today already."
"I'm a lady," she insisted, "He'll see me changing through the tent–"
Jon interrupted her, "Change with the lamps out."
"It's not proper!"
"You had no problem camping next to Raoul, and your tents were nearly touching." Alanna glowered at him, though he ignored her. "And you hardly consider yourself a lady. Gary had to keep you from challenging that Scranran who called you one."
"He challenged my virtue!"
Jon chucked momentarily. "You heard nothing past the mention of 'lady'. Now," he said, his tone changing, "The tent layout is set, and changes would be an unnecessary ordeal. Behave, will you? Look, here comes your neighbor."
Alanna turned to see Wyldon approaching. "Cavall," she said in acknowledgement. He nodded.
"I must attend to some reports," Jon said. "Perhaps we may converse later." He nodded to Wyldon and Alanna, though taking special care to ignore the flashes of anger in her eyes.
"Good day," Alanna said through clenched teeth, and stormed into her tent.