“Never have I once imagined I would long to see a proper library or even one of those under-sexed glasses-wearing lasses hushin’ me every time I attempt to find some midday action amidst the shelves of the public library.”
Olaf wistfully sighed and I smacked him in the back of the head, and he yelped.
“Not the time fer that, you bloody beast!”
I chastised him, and Olaf grinned at me, clearly not sorry for his verbal overshare. After all, I had spent over four centuries listening to him talk about his various conquests or the conquests he imagined having. By the time the erotic novel became a true thing, I was convinced Olaf was born to be just such a novelist, should he ever find the time to learn some proper grammar.
“All this abuse! A fella might begin to think ye don’t like him.”
