You stand up from the table and excuse yourself politely, claiming you need fresh air. You're in the middle of a dinner at the Prospitian Court, one meant for political alliances, of course, and you’re having a god-awful time.

Because it still eludes you how Prospitians could be so passive-aggressive and condescending. You know you’re not the easiest fellow to get along with, and growing up on Derse has made you rough around the edges, especially to outsiders. But since you’re here, you’ve been trying to be cordial and remember your manners, and all you’ve gotten back were sly comments about stupid things like your posture, how you handle your cutlery, even the color of your attire.

You step on the balcony, admiring the golden-white look of the city, until you feel a presence behind you. Your Dersite instinct tells you to fight, that someone is trying to catch you with your guard down, except you end up punching the court Mage, Sollux Captor, right in the face.