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“No, I’ve never, quote unquote, fought a dragon. Jimminy Cricket. Like, y’know the Knights were just…knights, right? Dudes with swords who dealt with ladies in puddles, occasionally, but mostly, like, kept roads safe and drank crappy honey booze. There aren’t a lotta wyrms in La Mort d’Arty.”
“Gonna level with you, I’m not feeling the holy warrior thing at the moment, so there’s no zealous inqusition comin’ your way, but I want you to know that this is nasty and I’m not into it.”
“To the surprise of anyone who’s ever tried to mind-read me, I don’t actually have conscious thoughts. It’s just a constant loop of the Wii Mii Maker music.”
“I mean, you’re not gonna believe it, is the thing.” Twirling the wrench in her hands, Tracy straddled the bike, gave its engine an appraising rev. The vehicle began alright, but to see the knight’s face as she dismounted, it wasn’t up to her standards. “Picked up this from my dad – adopted dad, I guess – but according to ancient prophecy that I’m still not sure I’m into, I’m a reincarnated Arthurian knight.“ Back onto the exhaust, pulling a pipe-cleaner out, getting deep in there. She was very casual in the admittance of her fate.
“So I’m on a whole knight-errant thing right now. See if I like it. And occasionally that means running outta money and doing a bit of tune-up work. Nobody’s gonna support my delusional ass on a gofundme, so…”
