Half an hour later, Merdon stepped out of the church no worse for wear thanks to the healer. He had his pack on his back and fully expected Quickclaw to be gone. That expectation weighed on him for a few moments, until the kobold popped up from behind a corner and stepped over. It was impossible for him to not hear the clicking of her claws on the stone road. Merdon thought he might have been able to pick it out of a busy crowd if he tried.

“Something wrong?” he asked her with a frown. Surely she should have left by now.

Quickclaw tapped her front claws together nervously. “The contract was for us both, yes? Quickclaw deserves her cut,” she reasoned.

Merdon slapped his face. “I completely forgot. You're right,” he said while internally berating himself.

“The guild is closed at night,” she recalled. “One more night together and then, after Quickclaw is paid, she will leave.”

One more night. One more stay in an inn together. By themselves.

Merdon nodded, trying to hide his nervousness. “Let's go get some food then,” he suggested, starting off towards a different tavern than last time. He didn't want a repeat of the other night. Quickclaw nodded and followed along.

The new tavern was livelier than the last one with a server walking between tables and a dozen men and women chatting and getting drunk. In that atmosphere, there was no way for the bartender to care about making sure one patron got a bad cup of ale. Besides that, the place looked more reputable, with ornate decorations, candle holders on the walls, and other such decors. Breaking his own rules, Merdon ordered a cup of ale for himself as well. Quickclaw smirked at that and sat across from him with that face for quite a while. Maybe he wasn't so uptight after all. There was some wiggle room in his code of ethics. Their food and drinks arrived and, for the most part, the human stayed quiet and tried not to stare too much. After a couple mugs of alcohol, however, he naturally opened up a little.

“You know, you're really amazing,” he told Quickclaw with a shaking tone, nervousness more than anything.

The kobold chuckled. “Yeah? What about Quickclaw?”

Merdon paused, trying to remember exactly what he was thinking of. There was something. “The way you … grabbed those guys, with your tail?” he reminded her. “They should have called you, uh, Nimbletail or something.”

Quickclaw blushed a deep red that was terribly notable on her pale blue cheeks. “Being a nimble tail means something else,” she said slowly.

The knight blinked and frowned. “What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“It means that one's tail is frequently out of the way.”

Merdon stared at her. He wasn't getting it.

“That one would have many visitors under her tail,” Quickclaw said with a certain firmness to her words.

Merdon's blush was heavier than the kobold's, and he actively looked away from her. “I think I need another drink,” he mumbled to the air.

“Quickclaw thinks she needs one as well,” she added, also looking away.

Both of them ended up having several more, in fact. Eventually, the pair finished their drinking and started to stumble their way back to the inn. They were bumping into each other now and again, with almost increasing frequency, like they were magnetized to each other. Once they got to the inn, Merdon overpaid the innkeeper yet again, though with more of an attitude this time, slamming the coins down in front of him and giving the older man a flat stare as they were handed a key. He wasn't in the mood to sugar coat things after his time in the woods. As soon as they were in the room, Merdon fell face-first onto his bed and sighed happily. Glad to be alive, at the absolute least.

When it came to drinking, he was a complete lightweight. Hence his preference to not drink. Tonight had been special. He had survived a serious encounter with bandits. Plus, if he was so drunk he could barely get out of bed, he certainly wouldn't be able to look over at Quickclaw undressing again. Watching the way she pulled those odd leather bits off her arched feet, followed by her fingerless, clawless maybe, gloves. Then she started with her waistcloth, which revealed a pair of cotton underwear.

It was at that point he realized he was watching her, his head laid to the side to look at her in his drunken state. Not only was he watching, but he was also smiling faintly at the sight. Smiling at her pulling her leather cuirass off, and then the two layers of cloth shirt she wore under it for style or warmth, either or. The layering and armor hid her small chest well. Any man could be forgiven for not realizing she had breasts until those were off. Maybe that was why she did it. Hiding her attributes from others made her stand out less, kept eyes off of her, even for a kobold. Far too many people took advantage of them in that way than was healthy, people that needed a sound beating.

Merdon had yet to do anything about the fact that he was watching her with dim eyes and smiling like a doofus. He was acting like a schoolboy with a crush, and Quickclaw noticed it. Drunkenly, she grinned and stepped closer to his bed. Her claw stretched out and rubbed his shoulder. The knight was an honorable sort of human, and while Quickclaw wasn't actively looking, she found it difficult not to know he was at least mildly attractive for his kind. They were both rather tipsy, and with her earlier thoughts settled the kobold found no reason to hold herself back.

“Does the human like what he sees?” she asked him, more sincerely than the last time they were in the room together.

This time, with an embarrassed look, Merdon nodded. “You're very beautiful,” he mumbled.

Quickclaw reddened too. She, with a bit of assistance from a Merdon that was getting his wits back, rolled him over and sat on the bed. Her claw started to gently rub up and down his chest. “Perhaps Quickclaw would like to see more of you,” she proposed. With her claw already in that general area, it was impossible not to guess what she meant.

Merdon breathed a bit heavier after hearing that, but it sounded like a fine idea. He wanted to know how those claws felt on his skin. His shirt was hardly an obstacle, and they felt wonderful. Those claws were giant fingernails really. If only he had an itch that needed to be taken care of, other than the growing “itch” in his nether region. So long as Quickclaw didn't press down too hard on his skin anyway.

The kobold had much bolder ideas than a backscratching though. Quickclaw turned and asked him, “Would the huma- … No, would Merdon like Sarel to be his 'nimble tail'?” Her face was bright red at the suggestion, it was putting a lot of pride on the line for a kobold.

Merdon swallowed hard, his own pride at least, and nodded to her. “I would like that,” he barely managed to say. Because the situation demanded words, not simple head bobbing. They were adults, both of them. Not schoolchildren sneaking around the dormitories.

Merdon woke first, his head as hot as a forge and with just as much pounding. Groaning, he looked around. Quickclaw's clothes were on the floor, but her bed was empty, and there was a strange pressure on his chest that felt too heavy to be his own clothes. The night before slowly came back and he looked down. There she was, asleep on his chest, her tail still curled around his leg. He couldn't help but turn red at the memory, the sounds, sensations, emotions. Everything they had done came back to his mind and made him a little more aware of the dirtiness between them.

He cleared his throat as quietly as possible, which stirred the kobold on top of him. She opened her golden eyes and smiled at him. Merdon found himself paralyzed by that gaze. Was this love? At the very least it was lust and a very primal one at that. Still, he found himself more open to admitting she was attractive.

“Good morning,” he said weakly.

“Indeed it is, verakt,” she practically hummed. Except for that last word. It was too harsh to be hummed, to sharp with its consonants.

“Excuse me?” Merdon asked about that final word. It sounded one step below dragon tongue.

Quickclaw, picking up his meaning, sat up and stretched while she explained, “Verakt, it roughly translates to 'mate' or 'my mate'.” She was feeling so comfortable already, it almost bothered her.

The man bit his lip and turned into a tomato for a minute before remembering another strange word from the night before. “You said 'Sarel' last night. What does that mean?”

It was the kobold's turn to be embarrassed again. “Sarel is Quickclaw's true name,” she said quietly.

That took Merdon a moment to comprehend. “So, Quickclaw is a nickname?” he asked next, propping himself up on his elbows.

“There are many Quickclaws, and many Sarels, but there are few Quickclaws that are Sarel.” Noting his continued confusion, Sarel explained that kobolds had given names, ones used mostly in childhood and by close friends or lovers. Their common names, such as Quickclaw, were chosen by them at an older age, usually to reflect a profession or notable achievement. In Sarel's case, she was a good thief. It was like a first name.

“So, what should I call you?” he asked her, sitting up next to her.

She gave him a smile. “I will leave that to you, verakt.”

Merdon looked at her, smiling next to him, both of them naked as the day they were born, and he decided. “All right, Sarel. Let's go get paid.”

Sarel beamed at him and stood up to get cleaned up before dressing. Merdon glanced down at his body and the bed and then realized he should do the same.