“Playing hide-and-seek under the table? Crouching in the dirt? Typical of your kind, but far beneath my dignity.' He laughs unsteadily, like he expects I am going to laugh, too.

I don't. I ball up my fist and punch him in the stomach, right where I know it will hurt. He staggers to his knees. The goblet drops to the dirt, making a hollow clanking sound. 'Ow"' he shouts, and lets me tug him under the table.

'We'll get out of here without anyone noticing,' I tell him. 'We stay under the tables and make our way to the steps to the upper levels of the place. And don't tell me it's beneath your dignity to crawl. You're so drunk you can barely stand anyway.'

I hear him snort. 'If you insist,' he says.”