the smuggler’s bible

Lancelot

“You have to help. I’m dead meat if my boyfriend finds out.”

“Jesus. Fine. Give me a hand with my armor.”

The tree is big as hell, and Lancelot sucks at climbing, but he scrambles to the top where the falcon is tangled up and gets a hand on its leash.

“You touchin’ my falcon, you son of a bitch?” a new voice calls out from down by the castle. “I’m gonna chop your head off.”

“Come on, man,” Lancelot whines. “I’m just trying to do the lady a solid.”

“Yeah, well you better save your favors for yourself, asshole.”