Boman came over with jaunty steps, holding a wine glass. He wore his signature good-natured grin, like a stray dog wandering the plains, happily wagging its tail.
He came to Henry's side, bowed slightly, and held his glass to his chest. "Henry, look how happy everyone is," he said. "The last time so many nobles of the plains gathered like this was for the victory banquet after we defeated the Half-Beastmen."
Boman was completely drunk and had lost all semblance of decorum. The only thing separating him from a common sot, dead drunk and snoring in some alleyway, was the fine noble's attire he wore.
Henry's gaze swept over Boman's glass, a teasing light in his eyes.
Seeing that Henry didn't respond, Boman felt a little awkward.
Henry gently swirled the glass in his hand. The wine rippled, reflecting Boman's somewhat awkward face.
