By this time, Ol Man Baro had regained himself. His tone shifted, warm and disarming. "Ah, my dear Maeril, don't be offended by my boy's words," he said, placing a steady palm on her heated arm. The tremor in the room eased, her fury simmering down under his touch.
"We will eat your food. Forget about the key... someone else can take it," Baro continued, his voice low and coaxing.
Renny's lips parted, ready to protest. They can't. But before a word escaped, Baro's cane jabbed his foot under the table, halting him cold.
"Just give us a bowl of rice," Baro chuckled, rubbing his belly, "with nice chicken and sauces so delicious they'll fill us to the brim." His laughter was rich, unbothered.
Maeril's anger melted into a smile. "Alright, my dear. You may take a seat at the table, and you'll be served."
Baro gave her a courtly bow, then hooked his arm around Renny and pulled him toward the table.
Renny hissed under his breath as they sat. "What are you doing?"
