This was exactly the sort of thing I was afraid of.
“It would be less brutal if I were along,” I argued weakly.
“Why, big brother,” she said with a wink. “A little brutality never bothered me. I thought you knew that.”
Outflanked and outmaneuvered, I had no choice but to lean against the wall and watch as she marched into the tavern.
“Oh, I know, little sister,” I sighed. “Believe me, I know.”
Though forbidden to take active part in the proceedings, I was understandably curious and kept one ear cocked to try to ascertain what was happening from the sound effects. I didn’t have long to wait.
The undercurrent of conversation we had noted earlier ceased abruptly as Tananda made her entrance. A pregnant pause followed, then there was a murmured comment prompting a sharp bark of laughter.
I closed my eyes.
What happened next was so preordained as to be choreographed. I recognized little sister’s voice raised in query, answered by another laugh. Then came the unmistakable sound of furniture breaking. No, that’s not quite right. Actually, the noise indicated the furniture was being smashed, as in swung quickly and forcefully until an immovable object was encountered . . . like a head, for example.
The outcries were louder now, ranging from indignation to anger, punctuated by breaking glass and other such cacophonies. Years of hanging around with Tananda had trained my ear, so I amused myself by trying to catalogue the damage by its sound. That was a table going over, . . . Another chair, . . . A mirror (wonder how she missed the glasses?), . . . That was definitely a bone breaking, . . . Someone’s head hitting the bar, the side, I think, . . . There go the glasses, . . . A body hurtled through the plate-glass window next to me and bounced once on the sidewalk before coming to a halt in a limp heap… a fairly good-sized one, too.