Ross & Lute

C Support

Ross: Hey, you!
Lute: I hope that maniac isn’t talking to me. I’ll pretend I can’t hear him. La la la.
Ross: You, over there! Mage woman!
Lute: Are you talking to me? Firstly, my name isn’t “Mage Woman,” nor is it “You.” Why don’t you lower your voice and act a little more civilized? Who are you?
Ross: I’m son of the warrior Garcia, Ross.
Lute: So you’re “Son-of-warrior-garcia-ross.” That’s an unusual name. I’m Lute, genius mage extraordinaire. You’ve probably heard of me. So, Sir Son-of-warrior-garcia-ross, how may I be of service to you?
Ross: My name is ROSS! You’re kind of weird. Hey, you can use magic, right?
Lute: Yes, although to be more accurate, I don’t just “use” magic. I am a master of all magic. Please don’t make that mistake again.
Ross: Wow, that’s really great.
Lute: Well, maybe for you. For me, I’m just that good. It’s normal.
Ross: Isn’t it hard to remember all those spells?
Lute: Well, I think for the average person, it probably is a difficult task. But for me, it is as simple as using a hint of fragrance when baking a cake.
Ross: I…have no idea what you mean. Wait a second! Does that mean even I could learn magic?
Lute: No.
Ross: Hey! At least pretend to ponder the question for a little bit before you answer.
Lute: OK. Bye.
Ross: Hey! Hey, wait a minute!

B Support

Ross: Hey, mage lady! I mean… Let’s see… Lute!
Lute: Hello, Sir Son-of-warrior-garcia-ross.
Ross: It’s ROSS! You left in the middle of the conversation!
Lute: Thank you, but it’s no big deal.
Ross: That wasn’t a compliment! So, by the way…
Lute: So long.
Ross: What the heck? Hey, wait a minute! I was telling you not to leave suddenly!
Lute: What do you want?
Ross: Well, nothing in particular. I just thought we could chat…or something.
Lute: Well, THAT doesn’t sound very productive nor strategically important, but… If you want to, please go ahead.
Ross: OK. Um. Let’s see. What to talk about. You know, my mom used a little magic, too. She passed away a while ago… But, that’s why I thought I might be able to use magic, too. Last time, you said no right away, but you hadn’t heard the whole story.
Lute: Do you want to be a mage?
Ross: No, not exactly.
Lute: Well, then you should keep following your own instinct instead. Everyone has his or her own talent. I figure the path you are taking now is appropriate for you.
Ross: Yeah…. Maybe you’re right. Well, it’s not like I was torn between the two or anything. I kinda just wanted to talk with a female mage like you. Thanks.
Lute: Um, you’re welcome, I guess. I’m glad I could be of your service.

A Support

Ross: Yo, Lute.
Lute: Hi, Son-of–I mean–Ross.
Ross: Hey, you remembered my name finally!
Lute: Because I’m good.
Ross: Huh?
Lute: Are you here to insult me today?
Ross: Where’d you get that from?! You are as strange as ever.
Lute: Thank you very much.
Ross: That wasn’t a compliment! Have you always been like this?
Lute: You mean, have I always been brilliant? Well, I’ve been me. So, yes. I’ve been surrounded by books for as long as I can remember.
Ross: You studied magic since you were a kid?! Did you do anything for fun?
Lute: Well, there’s my monk-watching habit.
Ross: Huh? Never mind. How about your mother and father?
Lute: I don’t have any memory of my parents. But according to my grandmother, they are traveling in distant lands.
Ross: Oh… So you have a grandmother. What is she like?
Lute: She’s like an elegant goldfish that’s been sun-dried with a wildflower.
Ross: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Lute: OK then. So long.
Ross: Hey! Hey, Lute!
Lute: Yes?
Ross: You may be a great mage, but you don’t seem to be physically strong. So, from now on… Well… I’ll be at your side to protect you.
Lute: Well, that’s very kind. But you know that the more likely scenario is that I’ll be protecting you.
Ross: That’s not what you’re supposed to say! You’re just supposed to say “Yes”!
Lute: OK. Yes.
Ross: Man… I might not seem that tough now, but someday I will grow up to be a man as strong as my dad. You wait and see!
Lute: OK. I’ll look forward to it. But I won’t get my hopes too high. Disappointment is a cruel mistress.
Ross: You! Grrr! I’ll show you!