There are several perks that come with being me.  There's the perk of being the Captain of an airship.  Even when said airship becomes a burning and twisted lump of metal, those in charge of making it run still know that I'm the main whip wielder in this outfit.  So when I say that I'm going to have my own room at the inn, then they damn well know that they aren't getting in there without an invitation.  There's also the perk of knowing so many people that would derive so much pleasure from sticking a knife between my ribs.  My ears have been trained to subtly waken me at the sound of a door opening, like I heard one open now.  I did not stir or open my eyes, but instead listened to the sound of their footsteps.  The softness of the sound inferred that they were either slight of frame or very skilled at keeping quiet.  Then they'd favor the knife.  The hand under my pillow very slowly grasped the gun I'd stashed beneath my head.  Between letting everyone sleep and my life, I'd pick the latter, thank you very much.  They just had to get a little bit closer-
"Tristan?"
My occupied hand let go of the gun and my free hand curled into a fist as Belle's voice, timid and infantile, flitted across my ears.  I swear to Taef, somebody had better be dying.
"Tristan?" the girl asked again, "Are you awake?"
Grumpily, I cracked one eye open and glanced at the clock.  "It's one in the morning," I seethed, "What do you want?"
"I had a nightmare," the girl said piteously.
I clenched my jaw so hard that I'm surprised that my teeth didn't crack upon the impact.  "And?" I hissed.
"It was about the fingermen."
"AND?"
The princess said nothing.  She just stood there giving me puppy-dog eyes, and pitiably digging a foot into the ground.  A stream of vulgarity in every language I knew pushed its way through my mouth, but I nonetheless lifted the blanket in grudging invitation.  I noted that another perk to being me was that I had the good sense to wear pajamas to bed; I shudder to think what Jacques would think were he to discover us together and I nude.  Speaking of which…
"Why aren't you bothering the necrophile with this childish behavior?" I growled.
"Jacques says I need to start acting like more of an adult," the fifteen-year-old replied as she buried her face in the back of my neck.
"I can't imagine why."

***

"I will bet you this gold mark that you can't land it in the bullseye."
I didn't even bother to look up from the newspaper in my hands as I threw the dart, knowing that it would hit the red dot; I'd thrown enough knives in my life to gain a measure of accuracy.  Myra's face fell somewhat as I snatched the coin out of her hand and returned to my paper.  My own expression became a scowl when I didn't hear her leave.
"Why are you bothering me?" I growled.
"I've already explored the train," she answered.
"Allow me to rephrase that: why are you bothering me?"
"Lack of a better option."
"We don't like each other; everyone else is the lack of a better option."
"Be that as it may, we two actually have some sort of relationship, as hate-fueled as it may be.  If we didn't, I'd ignore you like I do everyone else here."
"Here's where you tell me you never had any friends growing up and I'm unsurprised."
"You're not a very good host."
"Hospitality is based upon the concept of wanting people to talk to you.  That and having someplace to call home, but mostly the former."
"Yeah… you do lack any sort of aptitude for social interaction."
"I have perfectly sociable, I just only exercise it around Manny, Alice, Riley, and Uecon."
"So you're an inhospitable bastard to anyone you don't know."
"Well when you put it that way…"
"Myra: 9.  Tristan: 0."
"Shut up."

***

"You know, Doc," I drawled, "I can understand that, being a necromancer, you'll probably get all a twitter when surrounded by corpses; it's like a thing for you guys.  But as fun as it may be to be talking with ghosts right now, you're creeping us out."
"Not me," said Matt.
"Nope," said Nero.
"In too much pain to notice," said Myra through grit teeth.
"It does not disturb me," said Alice.
"I've seen weirder," said Uecon.
"Meh," said Manny.
"Not really," said Riley.
Belle, thankfully, remained silent.  It was an act of grace upon her part that she did, because by then I was ready to cut them all to pieces and blame it on the Relagians.
"I'm far too honored to be insulted by such a close-minded statement, Mr. Daon," replied Jacques, "But I would implore you to consider what you stand in: this place is now home to some of the earliest kings and queens of Arkos."
"Uh-huh," I said absent-mindedly, noticing how a lot of the jewels and gold on the corpses didn't look booby-trapped.
"Beyond them, entombed here are some of the nation's greatest heroes.  Ezio the Lance.  The Blue Lady.  Even a few Wardens have been laid to rest here."
"That a fact?" I asked, stretching my arms and grabbing a gold chain as I passed it by.
"Indeed.  This place is more than a tomb, Mr. Daon, this is a testament, an honor to all of Arkos's history.  And so we should respect that value, all of us."
At this point Jacques stopped entirely and turned to face us, his face a mask of cold accusation.  "You can all start by relinquishing what you've stolen," he growled at my original crew and me.  Though hesitant at first, the five of us reluctantly made a pile of our stolen goods.  Jacques turned an angry red, and gathering the riches up in his arms, hissed, "You all should be ashamed," before backtracking to reunite them with their owners.
"We feel horrible, Jacques," I called after him gravely, "All of us.  We're really sorry.  We wish we could take it back!"
Yes, all five of us felt awful.  Uecon with gold necklaces tucked under his shirt, Riley with his fingers being covered in jeweled rings, Alice with a bounty of rubies snuggled between her breasts, Manny with the huge diamond resting under his tongue, and I with my pockets full of gold dust just were eaten up by guilt.  We'd all just have to learn to live with the shame.