"You know what disappoints me?" Billy asked me after a while.
"No, what?"
"All of those faeries and duels and mad queens and so on, and no one quoted old Billy Shakespeare. Not even once."
I stared at Billy for a minute and started to laugh. My own aches and bruises and cuts and wounds pained me, but it was an honest, stretchy pain, something that was healing. I got myself some dice and some paper and some pencils and settled down with friends to pretend to be Thorg the Barbarian, to eat, drink, and be merry.
Lord, what fools these mortals be.