"Wow, I could've sworn I just heard someone talking—but I don't see anyone!"
"Damn it, am I so hungry I'm starting to hallucinate?"
At the sound of the flippant voice, Kal merely tilted his head slightly and saw who had spoken to him.
But Kal had no intention of indulging anyone trying to snatch meat from his bowl.
After all, if he had slept with a Dornishman's wife, then the one lying down in that song he'd been humming earlier definitely wouldn't have been him.
And certainly not face-down on a table.
Yet despite Kal's provocation, the Lannister dwarf who had been watching him ever since he entered didn't get angry as he leisurely made his way over.
Nor did he respond to Kal's mocking words. Instead, he casually pulled a silver stag from his belt, then stood on tiptoe and slipped both the coin—and his hand—deep into the snow-white cleavage of Melinda's chest.
Reluctantly withdrawing his hand, Tyrion brought it to his nose and took a deep breath, then gave a dreamy sigh and murmured: "My apologies, my lady. Would you be so kind as to make room for me and this ill-mannered fellow?"
"I intend to challenge him to a duel, in the name of the gods. The reward—will be you."
Upon hearing Tyrion's words and feeling the coolness between her breasts, Melinda's face bloomed like a flower.
With a quick little hop, she gracefully slid off Kal's table.
But no sooner had she landed than she bent forward, unbothered by propriety, leaned her lovely face close to the dwarf's—and sank her rosy lips down with a bite.
Kal glanced over and thought she looked like she was gnawing on a pale, misshapen apple that hadn't seen a day of sun.
Not that Melinda seemed to mind whether the apple tasted good or not. After the bite, she cupped Tyrion's head in her hands, beaming as if she were about to burst from joy.
"Of course, my 'lord,'" she cooed, her voice sweet as honey.
And though she'd only just signed a mutual aid pact with Kal, she now gazed at the dwarf's head in her hands as though it were a perfectly proportioned lump of gold. She added with glee: "If you want me, I'm yours until the moment you leave!"
"And I just know you're going to win!"
As she finished speaking, she gave Tyrion a dazzling wink, her eyes brimming with seductive charm.
Fortunately, she also seemed to understand that the two men clearly knew each other and probably had things to discuss. So, after showering Tyrion with flattery, she gathered the plate she'd set down earlier and, with a sway of her hips, made her way out.
As she stood up, Tyrion's other hand—quick and practiced—fell right where Kal's gaze had just lingered a moment earlier.
With a lascivious arch of his brow, the dwarf smirked and said, "My Queen of Love and Beauty, if it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could bring me something to eat—and better yet, a cup of red wine?"
After sharing his thoughts with Melinda, Tyrion gave a parting pat to the remarkably springy spot he'd just grabbed, then strolled over to Kal under the woman's lingering, velvety gaze.
He struggled a bit, but managed to climb onto the chair and take a seat.
By then, Kal had already started eating—though it was hard to say exactly when. He picked up a chunk of hard bread, poked a few holes into it with his fingers, then used a spoon to scoop mushrooms and snail meat from the stew and stuffed them into the holes, crafting an improvised snail-and-mushroom hand pie from what was available at the table.
After taking a bite of his new creation, Kal finally cast a leisurely glance at the blond little man now seated across from him. The expression on his face made it clear he found Tyrion's effort to climb onto the chair more amusing than impressive.
Only now did Tyrion tilt his head up to look properly at Kal. But when he caught sight of the undisguised smirk on the man's face, he merely shrugged with a helpless smile and said: "As a half-man, I'm terribly sorry I couldn't make my presence known the moment I arrived."
Then he raised a finger and wagged it. "But I've got an idea—maybe next time you could crawl on the floor. I think you'd discover a whole new perspective that way."
"That way, you just might spot a lion first thing."
The smugness in Tyrion's voice was matched only by the grin playing at his lips. He crossed his arms and looked up at Kal, spewing what sounded almost like reasonable advice.
But Kal, unfazed by the Lannister dwarf's verbal gas, simply swallowed the bread in his mouth, took a swig of ale to wash it down, and glanced sideways at him, eyelids lowered.
"A lion?"
"You mean the kind that can't satisfy a lioness, tail tucked between its legs, looking more like a dog with weeds growing out of its head?"
"If that's what you mean, then all I can say is—"
"Nice advice. But maybe next time, don't bother."
Kal chuckled as he spoke, a dry, contemptuous sound. As he did, he worked a bit of bread out from between his teeth with the tip of his tongue.
Before Tyrion could respond—his grin already freezing into something more brittle—Kal abruptly set down his bread and leaned slightly forward, drawing closer to the dwarf's face.
Then, smacking his lips, Kal suddenly shifted the topic, continuing his mockery with a grin: "But I could've sworn I just heard some loudmouthed, leather-covered stool babbling about a duel?"
"My apologies, oh mighty 'Giant' Tyrion Lannister, but have you seen that arrogant little stool? I think I could scoop it up and sell it to a circus!"
"Trust me, it'd fetch a pretty good price!"
Looking at the uninvited dwarf sitting across from him—who had not only barged in but tried to steal from under his nose—Kal didn't feel the need to hold back his vocabulary.
And as for the 'leather-covered stool' he referred to, he was certain the dwarf in front of him knew exactly what he meant.
After all, that's what Tyrion always had to use to mount a horse.
Kal even suspected that, given the chance, Tyrion would probably bring it along to his favorite bedroom activities too. With that trusty little stool, he could stand at the edge of the bed and carry out… certain acts.
Hmm. If Kal remembered right, he had been the one to suggest that trick in the first place. So he had no worries the dwarf would miss the "hint."
And yet, faced with such an overt jab, the Lannister dwarf acted as if he were hearing it all for the first time.
Stroking his chin, Tyrion's mismatched eyes rolled lazily in their sockets before he turned to Kal with a puzzled expression.
"Apologies, Lord Stone, but I don't believe I've seen the leather stool you mentioned. However, should you catch it, you might consider selling it to House Lannister."
"After all, the Lannisters are the undisputed wealthiest family in the Seven Kingdoms, aren't they?"
As he spoke, Tyrion's brows danced in a ridiculous little rhythm—especially as he put extra emphasis on certain words.
And after coolly deflecting Kal's insult, he flashed a crooked smile beneath his far-too-prominent nose, one that practically oozed mischief.
Watching Tyrion deliver this performance without batting an eye, Kal—who had just picked up his bread again, ready to continue eating—suddenly froze mid-motion.
It felt like something had gotten lodged in his throat. How else could he explain the fact that he'd instantly lost his appetite at the sight of his food?
His eyes narrowed, fixing on the dwarf across the table.
"You damned bastard. You golden-haired monkey-balled runt—if I do catch that stool, I'll make sure it ends up in Lannister hands!"
"Well then, on behalf of House Lannister—thank you in advance."
"And for the record, not every lion is as pathetic as you make them sound!"
Tyrion met Kal's taunts with the same ease as if he'd just opened a window first thing in the morning, stepped out onto the ledge, and relieved himself into the back garden.
And not only that—after giving himself a good shake, he could still smile and marvel at how the morning breeze caressed his balls more pleasantly than it had the day before.
So, naturally, his face remained utterly unbothered.
"Oh~?"
"Is that so?!"
Kal paused slightly at Tyrion's calm, breezy expression. Then, squinting suspiciously, he narrowed his eyes and shot back a retort.
As he spoke, he continued chewing the food in his mouth. A crumb of bread fell from the corner of his lips, only to be caught by his fingers and tossed right back in.
With a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he picked up his spoon and gave the horn mug of ale a few taps, still eyeing Tyrion.
"If this little lion of yours really is more valuable than solid gold," Kal said, "then I'll admit you've got a point!"
"Of course," Tyrion replied with a casual shrug, "no matter how high the others bid, I guarantee mine will be double that!"
Hearing this, Kal swallowed the food in his mouth and suddenly froze. Then his eyes darted up and down, appraising the 'precious treasure' before him. Chin lifted slightly, he took on a mock-serious expression as though giving the matter serious thought.
"Then maybe I should hope someone offers me a whole castle in exchange!"
"…"
At that, Kal stared amusingly at the Lannister in front of him, who had the gall to boast so shamelessly. Tyrion, seeing Kal's look and catching the tone, paused only briefly before responding with another smile and the same easygoing shrug.
Clearly, he had no intention of walking back his earlier claim.