"Oh, thank the Goddess, civilization at last. I could cry. I would sell everything I own, and possibly sexual services, for a bath and proper meal." Omar cast her a look, but Astira only laughed. "I think if someone said they'd give you a hearty stew and good beer right now, and a warm, clean bed, you'd gladly give the blowjob they demanded in compensation."
Omar lifted his eyes to the sky. After two weeks of traveling with her, the crude jokes had ceased to shock. "It's a wonder to me you're a diplomat."
Astira scoffed. "You have clearly never been to a royal ball. I promise you, I am mild. Prince Davide of Ashtan was so drunk at the end of year ball last year he grabbed my breasts and called me 'you naughty minx' with Symaia not five paces away. That's not even the worst that's happened to me over the years."
"Did Symaia separate his hands from his wrists?"