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"It's alright, Kara. Nain and I met this morning," interrupted Crabannan, looking down at his plate. "Glad to meet any friend of Kara's." He concentrated on carefully wiping the last bits of breakfast with a crust of bread as Kara and Nain conversed about Scarburg and memories and old times and times to come.
He felt out of place among these old friends, and he could tell that Nain was less than comfortable with his presence. What has he heard? he wondered. The usual, doubtless: brawler, rogue, ruffian. He sighed and felt suddenly old. I've done all that and more.
Crabannan stood abruptly. Kara and Nain looked at him. Muttering something about being in the way, he strode headlong into the kitchen with his empty plate, Frodides or no Frodides.
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