My Home is a Person...

Bajie gave a hearty laugh, his eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief. Old habits die hard, Flea. Always a teacher, always a fighter. The gladiator rings may be a thing of the past, but there's always someone needing to learn how to swing a sword or throw a punch. He didn’t mince words with Flea, or try to be someone he wasn’t. As hard as he tried to pretend like he was a selfish asshole, it wasn’t really who he was, and Flea would see right through it.

He took a long sip of his drink, his gaze momentarily distant. I'm training recruits for the Arlathan guard now, not exactly gladiator material but they're fighters in their own way. His gaze refocused on Flea, a hint of concern in his eyes. What about you, Flea? How have you been holding up? He asked, it didn’t seem like she’d been awake long, and he remembered how long it had taken him to adjust twenty years earlier when he had woken up.