The Incubus System Chapter 845. A Man's Gotta Eat

The Incubus System Chapter 845. A Man's Gotta Eat

Larry's attempt at brushing off the obvious signs of a scuffle with a nonchalant grin only fueled my skepticism. "What are you talking about? You know I hate fighting. I'm not your hooligan girlfriend (Olivia), ya know," he quipped, his words delivered in a tone that aimed for casualness, but the guilt in his eyes was harder to ignore than a glaring neon sign.

I shot him a look—a flat, unyielding stare, arms folded across my chest, a clear signal that his flimsy excuse wouldn't cut it and I demanded him to spill the truth about what happened to him.

He cringed under the weight of my scrutiny, audibly gulping as if the truth was a lump that he struggled to swallow. "I fell this morning," he offered, the words attempting to dance around the truth, but my skepticism hung thick in the air. The hint of casual tone was in his voice.

I raised an eyebrow, the disbelief palpable in my tone. "Bruises on your waist, your left leg, and your right shoulder—explain how you managed to acquire this impressive collection from a simple fall," I pressed, my words echoing my skepticism.

Larry shifted uncomfortably, a telltale sign that his half-baked excuse was unraveling faster than a poorly woven plot. "It was a really... complicated fall?" he tried, his voice trailing off as he realized the absurdity of his explanation. My silence prompted him to face the reality that his little act wasn't fooling anyone.

He cleared his throat. "You know I'm a little clumsy. So I fell a few times," he grinned, the innocence in his expression starkly contrasting with the obvious evidence of a scuffle.

"Right..." I responded, my disbelief heavy in the air, my head nodding repeatedly. Deciding not to push the matter further, I let out a huff. He wouldn't admit it, and I wasn't in the mood to play detective. My main concern was getting him to take better care of himself.

"Most importantly, have you treated it or seen a doctor?" I asked pointedly, my worry for him still evident in my voice.

“I did. They said I would be fine,” he replied quickly, a confidence in his tone that seemed more like a reassurance for himself than for me. "You know, some bruises here and there won't overthrow a strong guy like me," he added, a hint of bravado as if daring the bruises to challenge his strength.

My faint smile persisted as I responded, "Yeah, you're not going to fall over something as small as that." I added, almost teasingly, "Your guild would definitely be very proud of you."

The subtle shift in my gaze told him that I was well aware that his bruises weren't the result of a mere stumble; he'd been in a scuffle with demons. His confident demeanor wavered, replaced by a smile tinged with sadness. "I hope I can make them proud," he confessed in a softer tone. "But it seems in the end I'm just their pawn. But I'm happy that I have many friends there. Like Theo, for example. He's been acting better lately. At least he's not as bad as before," he added, his faint smile carrying a sense of gratitude.

'Oh right... I almost forgot about Theo.' He was present at the previous fight, but given our strained history, I hadn't paid much attention to him. After all, he'd been out of my frame for quite some time.

I leaned back in my chair, studying him for a moment. "Being a pawn doesn't diminish your worth, Larry. Sometimes, the most significant moves in a game come from the pawns," I said philosophically. "And it's good to hear that Theo's shaping up. Everyone deserves a chance to change and be better. Just make sure you don't push yourself too hard, okay?" I reminded him.

"Don't worry. I know that," Larry replied nonchalantly. It was a response I expected, yet there was an underlying assurance in his words. Larry was resilient, and I trusted that he would navigate the challenges ahead with the same determination he displayed on the battlefield.

"Anyway, do you want to order something? It's on me," I offered, extending a friendly gesture.

"On you?" Larry's eyes gleamed with delight. "Cool! Because I forgot to bring my wallet, and I'm kinda hungry," he responded with a happy grin.

I chuckled at his enthusiasm.

Larry raised his hand, gesturing energetically for the waiter to come over. The young waiter, dressed in a casual black apron, promptly approached our table with a ready smile.

"What can I get for you guys?" the waiter asked, his notepad poised.

Larry, still beaming with the excitement of a child in a candy store, leaned in and declared, "I'll have the works! French fries, onion rings, two grilled cheese sandwiches, a milkshake, and some orange juice."

The waiter, maintaining his professional demeanor, jotted down Larry's extensive order with a practiced hand. "Alright, sir. Anything for you?" he turned to me, expecting my request.

I blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer magnitude of Larry's order. My initial offer to cover his meal had somehow transformed into a feast fit for a group. I pressed my lips together, suppressing a chuckle at Larry's audacity. Taking a deep breath, I replied, "That’s all."

The waiter noted my modest order with a subtle smile, perhaps recognizing the contrast between Larry's culinary extravaganza and my more reserved choice. "Got it. I'll be back shortly with your drinks and food," he assured, making a swift exit to convey our requests to the kitchen.

Once the waiter disappeared into the bustling cafe, I turned to Larry with an incredulous expression. "What? You said I could order anything, right?" he protested, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I pressed my lips together, suppressing a chuckle, and let out a long exhale. "Well, I didn't expect you to order the entire menu," I teased.

Larry chuckled, thoroughly pleased with his selection. "Hey, a man's gotta eat, right? Especially after a rough day."