"Shut up," Thomas spat at his wife as she spilled the beans on how long he had been self iscolating within his halls, "Now listen, We had a deal, and you lost,"
"Like hell I did," Argit shot back. "This here is a genuine Elf and I got the appraisal results to prove it, where's my whip!"
"Elves are tall and slender; they were said to have been beyond beautiful, had a deep-rooted connection to nature, and were known for their respect and wisdom," Thomas pointed to Bree. "This thing is short, bug-eyes, hideous, and was stupid enough to taunt my child,"
"Thomas, I will punch you," Argit's warning aimed towards Thomases liberal use of insults towards a woman he had already been told and vocally acknowledged was a Queen. "And her looks and personality don't matter; once more from the top, I have the appraisal results, and guess what!?" Argit leaned forward. "Go one guess,"
"I…"
"She's an Elf!" Argit practically screamed out, "Bam, boom, done deal, you owe me a whip,"
