Sarge took his time looking between Numair and Daine, finally landing on the cards and half-empty bottle on the floor. He made a grunting noise as he leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest—elbows filling the gap and nearly brushing both sides of the frame.
"Need I remind you both, that these barracks are for the training and development of young men and women to become competent, responsible defenders of the realm?" Even without his signature volume, his low voice reverberated through the small room. "And yet, I find the two of you—heroes of the realm to boot—squirreled away together, playing bawdy games, drunk," he took a deep breath, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shirt, "and you didn't invite me." He cracked a grin.
Daine laughed and Numair released an audible sigh of relief.
"Would you like to join?" Daine asked, surprise apparent. For Numair, the prospect held an interesting mix of relief and disappointment. Relief that another presence would surely temper how bold their game was becoming, and disappointment over that very same thought. Disappointment, if he were being honest with himself—which he was trying to avoid—at how it would prevent where their game may be headed. Where another couple of hours and the last half of the bottle could lead them. Disappointment in himself for letting himself want that.
"I would truly love nothing more in this world than to watch the two of you make fools of yourself. I mean that." He held a large hand to his chest. "Alas, someone has to be on duty lest our charges decide to make fools of themselves, and tonight that sorry soul is me."
"Pity, but perhaps you'll get a good story or two out of tonight yet." Daine grinned, returning to her seat across from Numair.
"Doubtful. Honestly, Evin set the bar so high that it's all been a bit underwhelming since."
"Told you," Daine mouthed to Numair.
"Did you hear about the Midwinter before he made Commander?" Sarge asked Daine, whistling softly.
"Heard about it? I was there."
"You're kidding." Sarge actually looked surprised at that and Numair looked between the two of them, nonplussed at being out of the loop.
"Only as an innocent bystander."
"There were no bystanders, and certainly not innocent ones."
"I've never seen you struggle to yell before." She teased.
"You should have tried keeping a straight face at the lot of them." He laughed loudly, throwing his head back.
"Does anyone care to share?"
"Ah," Sarge held up a hand, " save that one. That's actually a good question for our Wildmage here." He motioned to the cards scattered between them.
"You're familiar then?" Numair asked his old friend, who laughed again.
"Of course. That deck's been passed about forever—I think I've even added a few. You're probably the only one who hasn't played."
"It's Daine's first play too." He motioned to her, noticing how she looked away.
"Right." Sarge raised an eyebrow. "Here's a question for you: can you tell when you're being hustled?"
"Sarge," Daine cautioned but couldn't hide her grin.
"Daine." Numair glared at her.
"Yes?" She blinked at him, the picture of innocence.
"You lied," he pointed at her. "You know what that means."
She took a moment to catch on, unsure if he was truly vexed, before it clicked and she raised her glass with a grin and took two long drinks. Numair found her particularly distracting in that moment and was content to study the flush that had spread across her face and neck.
"You've always been a quick study." Sarge patted the top of her dresser and stood straight. "I should finish my rounds. Before I do, though," his voice dropped, losing any trace of humor. "You're okay, right? I'd hate to see you get in over your head. If you need help, I'm just a holler away."
Numair bristled at the accusation. Plenty had made them before—insinuating that he had sordid intentions when it came to Daine—but he'd never been accused by a friend before, and he's certainly never been concerned that Sarge had those concerns about him. He looked up at the man, sharp words at the ready, to find Sarge looking back at him with mock concern.
"I just don't want to see you getting yourself taken advantage of." Sarge leaned down and lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "Blink if you need help."
"I think I hear your recruits getting into trouble," Numair griped, ignoring Daine's laughter.
"Fine, I hope you both have fun and I hope it hurts in the morning. Enjoy, my lovely little pets." He turned to leave, pausing before he fully closed the door. "Actually, I'd like an honorary turn—Daine?"
"Please," she motioned for him to continue.
"Lovely. Let's see," he stroked his chin, "Ah, Numair, what happened to sour things between you and Lady Sandrise?" He grinned widely and disappeared, closing the door firmly behind him.