Tavros suddenly snapped his fingers. Well, I say snap, but that would be a generous way to describe the sound that was made. It sounded more like two boulders clacking together.
"Ah," he said, "this is poor hospitality on my part. My apologies."
"...Hospitality?" I repeated, confused about what he meant.
"You are my guest. A precious guest," he stated. "And I have yet to offer you a proper place to sit and relax after taking time out of your day to make it all the way over here."
Looking around the room, there was no chair or table.
Where was I supposed to sit?
Before I could question what exactly he meant by a "proper place to sit", Tavros extended one massive hand toward me, palm facing up. That completely interrupted whatever thought that was in my mind or word that was about to be uttered.
As he had kept his distance, the distance from where I was to where the hand was was a bit of a walk.
"Here. You may stand on my palm," he offered.
