The balcony hangs above a sea of cloud, all cold stone and pale wind. Delfarius and his past self lean on the rail, laughter easing into the thin air like smoke.
Past Delfarius
Is that Pistol? It looks like Pistol.
Delfarius leans over the edge, gaze cutting down toward the tower’s base. Far below, Stabby McStabbson points a stolen spyglass upward, while Pistol hovers nearby with a bright, uncontrolled giggle.
Delfarius
Yes, that is Pistol. This is going to be a complication.
Repine pads close to Delfarius’s heel, inky form stirring in the wind. The goblin keeps the spyglass trained on the balcony, as if the two figures above are already part of some private legend.
Past Delfarius
Of course they are here. Rumors about our tower travel faster than reason.
The moment settles instead of snapping. Below, Pistol’s laughter drifts upward, light and curious, and the three at the railing share a rare, almost restful pause before anyone decides what to say next.
Deal with Pistol and Stabby’s intrusion