“SAM? SAM!”
“Whazzit.”
“I need you to open your eyes. Sam, listen to me.”
“Whodat.”
“What?”
“I think he just asked who dat?”
“Thank you, Gary. That helped me with absolutely nothing.”
“Yikes, someone woke up bitchy today. And that someone is named Ryan Foxheart.”
“He sad ’cause Sam go boom?”
“Yes, kitten.”
“I sad ’cause Sam go boom?”
“We’ll be sad if he dies. And after an acceptable period of mourning—say, three and a half days?—we’ll start to divide up his stuff. I get mostly everything, and the things I don’t want will be thrown away. Or donated to charity. Most likely thrown away.”
“I get his brooms.”
“I don’t know where this broom fetish came from. I had absolutely nothing to do with that. You are a strange, wonderful half-giant who I love dearly.”
“It’s because he stole them from my keep. Everyone knows that brooms are part of any good hoard. It’s just common sense is what it is. I mean, why wouldn’t you have brooms?”
“Shuddap,” I said. “Tryna leep.”
“What the hell is he saying?”
“Shut up. Trying to sleep. Oooo, I’m like the Sam whisperer. My thighs are tingling. That’s a good thing, especially since he seems to get knocked out a lot lately.”
“I am going to slap the shit out of him if he doesn’t open his eyes.”
And since that voice sounded serious (and slightly frantic), I did just that.
I blinked blearily at the faces staring down at me.
They all looked immediately relieved.
And because I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be an asshole, I said, “Where am I? Who are all of you? Why can’t I remember anything, such as my own name or country of origin or the people in my life who I am supposed to love?”
Gary burst into tears and started wailing. “Oh my gods, he’s lost his memories. Why, gods, whyyyyy would you do that to us? How can he remember how splendid I am if he doesn’t know who I am? Do you know much work I put into him? Why? Whyyyyyyy!”
“Oh no, Sam!” Tiggy said, bottom lip quivering. “’Member me? Old pal, Tiggy?”
Yeah. You try having a half-giant on the verge of tears staring at you and saying something like that. “Just kidding! Oh my gods, I’m kidding. Sweet molasses, that face. Gaaah, I want to hug it and kiss it, what are you even?”
Gary immediately stopped shrieking, eyes dry. “You fucking motherfucker fuck,” he snarled, sounding rather impressed. “You should go live under a bridge, that was such good trolling. I am going to murder you.”
“Not if I get to it first,” Ryan said, grinding his teeth together.
“Uh-oh,” Kevin said, face stuck through the large window. “Either Sam’s about to get kissed or punched in the butt, I don’t know which—oh, he’s getting kissed. Personally, I would have gone for the butt punch, but what do I know?”
I couldn’t respond that Kevin knew absolutely nothing because I had a mouthful of knight. Not that I was complaining.