Tai: humor, 400 words

Tai

As his friend entered the forest clearing, Jarlaxle grinned at him.  "So how goes the training of Entreri Junior?"

"Don't call him that."  Entreri glanced at Tai, the "junior" in question, who had collapsed on the ground and leaned against a tree twenty feet away.  The young priest of Hoar looked like he'd instantly fallen asleep, his long black bangs hanging into his tan face.  "In another five years, he might make a decent fighter."

"Such a cruel assessment!"  Jarlaxle pulled a blanket from a pouch on his belt.  "I think the boy comes along well."  He spread the blanket on the ground, pausing as it produced a veritable feast.  "So much better than rations."  He took a seat and smiled at Entreri, clearly waiting for him to join in.

With a longsuffering sigh at Jarlaxle's endless supply of magical items, Entreri sat cross-legged on the ground.  Every meat he could want presented itself:  mutton, beef, venison, and something he wasn't quite sure of.  "What's that?"  He pointed at what looked vaguely like straightened frog legs.

"Lizard."

Entreri picked up the mutton.

"Be adventurous!  Try something new."  Jarlaxle picked up a lizard-on-a-stick.

Wordlessly, Entreri pushed a dish toward him that clearly held a homemade Calishite dish of curry-infused rice and vegetables.  Jarlaxle wrinkled his nose.

"Try something new," Entreri echoed, smirking.

"Not curry.  I've tried curry."

"Makes every dish better."  Entreri took a large helping.

Tai watched them blurrily, clearly trying to decide if he had the energy to join them or not.  Jarlaxle waved him over, but the boy didn't move.

The drow raised a thin, white eyebrow at Entreri.  "Wear him out, did you?"

"He leaves himself open too much," Entreri explained matter-of-factly.  "I made him keep practicing until his guard was up properly."

Jarlaxle was grinning again.

"Don't start with the 'junior.'"

"I thought you weren't going to pass on your sword techniques."  Jarlaxle picked up several wine bottles one by one, reading the labels.

Entreri tugged one from his hands, uncorked it, and smelled it.  "I'm not."  It smelled like a dry, red wine, and he nodded his head once, satisfied.

Jarlaxle gave him an exaggerated frown.  "Lush."  The insult was ridiculous; he continued before the assassin could respond.  "I thought you weren't ever going to take on a student."

The shrug of a shoulder, the half-hooded eyes of boredom.  "Call it ennui."  

Jarlaxle wasn't fooled.