Having her vomit nearby wasn't particularly fantastic, but she hadn't been the only one to react that way. The place already stank anyway and with death now in the air (and emptied bowels likely), none of it was making for a particularly pleasant aroma. He could claim to have smelled worst and it would be absolutely true, but the memory of that didn't particularly help here. This place was vile.

And the girl with him had a pair of goddamn headlights in her eyes. Something like that was going to get a witch hunt started if someone started to notice. Not my problem he would like to think, but he was supposed to play along. That's why he had the coin back. He was being a right and proper good lad. Fucking hell.

"Give them a few years. They'll have some different bastard to rule them instead. By tomorrow they'll be peddling their bloody rags for pennies in the street." But the deed was done. The king was dead. Mission accomplished, right? He saw no point in lingering, so he took her by the shoulder to guide her away. "Now try and get those peepers on low beams before they try and do a repeat performance on you, right?"