On the night that they were caught, Seymour was beginning to feel better. That day, he had been able to get out of bed for the first time in a week, and had even managed to walk around a little bit. By evening, however, he was quite spent, and fell asleep almost immediately after Seoc had joined him under the blankets.
He awoke, unpleasantly, to raised voices.
“You…allowed this?” demanded Alasdair MacQuarrie.
“What’s wrong with it?” Fiona challenged him. “They are no’ harmin’ anyone, are they?”
“I will not,” spluttered MacQuarrie, indignant, “have this sort of behavior on my property, thank you!”
Fiona clicked her tongue. “For Rezyn’s sake, Uncle. They were only sleepin’!”
“Are you sure that was all they were doing?”
“Well, yes, I’ve been here the whole time. I think I would have noticed if they were having sex.”
Me too, thought Seymour, still not entirely awake.
“Then why are they naked?”
The mattress shifted as Seoc got up out of bed. “I’m no’ naked,” he contradicted, pointing to his legs to demonstrate the fact that he was wearing trousers.
“What about the merman?” the Alt-Mage pressed him, approaching the bed as if to yank off the covers.
Seoc threw himself into his path. “Leave him alone,” he snarled. “It’s none o’ yer business.”
MacQuarrie brushed him aside and grabbed the blanket, pulling it roughly back. Seymour tried to cling to it, but his grip failed and he was left exposed. Blushing deeply in humiliation, he curled up into the fetal position and hid his burning face with his knees.
“I thought I told you,” Seoc growled, “to LEAVE HIM ALONE!”
The statement was punctuated with a sharp snap, the sound of Seoc’s fist slamming into his uncle’s jaw and forcing his teeth together, and a gasp of surprised pain on the part of MacQuarrie, which was followed by the sound of a body collapsing to the stone floor.
“Oh, Seoc,” Fiona sighed. “What have you done?”
“I did no’ mean to,” Seoc replied in scarcely more than a whisper, his voice rising in pitch. “I...d-did no’ me-ean...to!”