Unfortunately, the part of that thigh that crashes into the table is still recovering from last night. Other parts of me are still recovering from being pierced, engraved, and sliced, but they don’t come into contact with the table. Small mercies.
I let out a yelp, and add a few choice swear words for good measure.
“Are you all right?” Magister calls out.
“Yes. I’m fine. I just crashed into the table and landed on my welts, that’s all.” I walk back into the living room, because of course, I remember that my campaign notes are still in there, behind my GM screen. That’s not a good practice to get into, even when one’s players are trustworthy. Oops.
A sudden silence fills the room.
“You landed on what?“ asks my ex-girlfriend, from the kitchen. “How on earth did you get welts?”
“How d
