The kid—Brian placed a steaming plate of skewered meatballs in front of Jax.
"Enjoy, sir!" He beamed with that innocent, childlike energy before scurrying back toward the kitchen.
Jax grabbed a skewer. The meat was tender, well-seasoned. 'Not bad. Kid's got potential. OH wait his mom does.'
As he chewed, voices drifted from a nearby table. Three dwarves sat huddled close to the kitchen entrance, loud enough for anyone to hear.
"I'm telling you," the first dwarf said, grinning. "I come here specifically for that widow."
Jax's chewing slowed.
"You're obsessed, Grent," the second dwarf laughed.
"Obsessed? Nah. Strategic." Grent leaned back, smug. "See, I heard catfolk go absolutely wild when they're in heat of lust. Uncontrollable. Feral, even. And widows? They're starving for it. All that pent-up loneliness and horniness with no husband around? One moment of weakness, and boom she's grabbing my cock like her life depends on it."
The other two burst into laughter.
