[IRP] When Strength is All You Have Left, Is That Strength All You Need?

[Andy]

"Not weak, you armored simpleton, smart," Ambrose corrected the infuriating woman, still speaking softly. "If you go in there, they will not attack you, as you seem to think. At least, not immediately. They will trap you, and then they will have you publicly executed as a Lycian traitor. Think like a cutthroat for once in your pampered life, you noble twat, or else it will end before much longer." He leaned back in his seat. "Like it or not, we're not all paladins out of legend, able and willing to think of nothing but the good of the people and pull Elimine's Miracles out of our asses while we ride unicorns and are clad in shining armor. While that'd be nice, we're not. Nor are we Reedsmen, Black Fang assassins who send a shiver up all the nobles' spines if the interests of the people aren't in their hearts. So do think as if you cannot do as you please in this town you thought you knew."

Ambrose prepared himself to get attacked. She was volatile, and he'd just called her a twat to her face.