We’re fighting, again. It’s not uncommon for us. Our other party members- Karlach and Astorian- are on the other side of the tavern as we argue. The Tiefling says it’s as though we detest each other, when in reality it’s her ring on my finger as a symbol of our love. Today, it’s about her cigarettes. Always has the goddamn tobacco, always rolling and smoking them. I am starting to smell of smoke, and in truth I don’t care all that much.

However, because we are both stubborn creatures of habit, my stance is that I hate it, her stance is that she doesn’t care. Neither of us really believe in the points we’re making, but it’s sort of a release of tension. We’re always fighting, but it’s affectionate. She passes our argument to buy me a drink at the tavern we’ve just entered, and I smile, my complaining easily forgotten.

It’s just a glass of whiskey, but I lean over to kiss her. I plant myself on her lap, her arms curling around my waist. The tavern has beds, and I must admit I am very excited to be sleeping in a real bed. She always tries her best to make sure I’m as comfortable as I can be, but there’s no substitute for the real thing. Having slept in a variety of places in a variety of weather makes me especially grateful for heat and a roof. She could sleep anywhere, so long as that’s where I am.

Although, despite the pressing cold of the weather this time of year, having a someone like her for a lover and companion means I’m rarely cold anymore. We make our way up to the bedroom we have for the next couple nights, her carrying both of our bags. We have sex on the bed, then start our nighttime routine. The routine is something I developed to keep me grounded, and she adheres to it to please me.

I sit on the bed, unabashedly naked as she combs through my long, dark hair. She’s unclothed too, her chest bound with bandages. She braids it loosely and remakes the bed, then we get into bed. We go for round two, and by the time we’re finished I don’t have any smart quips left. I’m tired, sated, fed, and she’s warm. I’m laying on her lap, stretching out like a cat. She huffs a small laugh from behind her book, reaching out a calloused hand to rub my stomach in little circles.