Zane stared at himself in the mirror of his hotel room. He stared back. Well, not that it was him staring back. Zane knew how mirrors worked. He was a pretty smart guy, after all. Another thing a smart guy like him would notice was that bruises around his eye would've probably healed by today. Taking off the eyepatch that was being used to conceal the bruises, Zane looked closely at his right eye. It seemed to be just fine... resting the eyepatch down on the counter, Zane looked at himself really hard. He looked good, right? He didn't need the eyepatch, right? He still looked call without it, right?

Zane wandered the streets of the lower district with his eyepatch still on. He very much looked like he could fit in with the crowd here now. One could say he was hardcore. By one that meant Zane of course, as the people of the lower district looked towards him with smirks and laughs among themselves.  But Zane didn't care. Well.. he did care, but he chose to cope with it by pretending he didn't care. Eventually his delusions became powerful enough to become his own reality, and now he knew that the people of the lower district both admired him and feared him... probably.

Eventually the placebo granted by his eyepatch reached a point where Zane was essentially now roleplaying actively as some sort of powerful, feared mercenary. In a way, you could say this meant that FTRP was finally about roleplaying roleplayers, a truly revolutionary step for the hobby. He walked around with a certain air about himself, almost as if he was showing off. While Zane imagined the people to be afraid, in reality they were just weirded out by the way he was acting. Zane went to the nearest establishment, a run down cafe that was frequented by locals of the area.

Zane walked slowly as he approached the counter. This was for dramatic effect. People had to know of his presence. Looking to the customers, he noticed that none of them had even turned to glance his way. Zane walked slower, but this time louder. He was basically stomping on the ground now. A lady looked to his direction, her eyebrow raised. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, turning back to the meal she was eating. Zane sighed, simply walking to the counter normally.

The barista leaned against the counter in the back, looking over Zane. "I hate to break it to ya my friend, but October is still months away." Chuckling to himself, the barista soon poured Zane a cup of coffee. Zane sighed. "The eyepatch is for legitimate reasons. My eye you see - it was scarred when I fought off my brother, who had just killed my entire cla-" The bartender put his hand in front of Zane, gesturing him to stop. "Whatever, I believe your story. Still looks a little tacky, though..."

Zane drank a bit of coffee, sighing. The man hurt his pride, and Zane's pride was the equivalent of a one ply roll of toilet paper - residing in cheap hotels and breaking insanely easily. Zane stood up, turning to face the entire cafe. He called out to the people of Myras' lower district. He called to the poor, those forced to live in an area where this run down cafe was probably the best kept business of all. "Look, I know you guys all think my eyepatch is cool! You can admit it! I'm waiting!" Zane spread his arms out as he spoke, creating a big fuss in the room. Sitting down in the stool, Zane crossed his arms. He wasn't leaving this district until he got at least ONE compliment.

"Your eyepatch sucks.", Tomoe blurted out from between sips of rum from his canteen.

Putting his drink back on the table he was seated at, close enough to hear the eyepatch man's squabble with the barista but far enough away to be outside of swinging distance, Tomoe had all the power! Truth be told, he had no idea why he was in this cafe in the first place. All he remembered from the night prior was an egregious amount of alcohol, some fist fight, and definitely more than a few women responding well to his flirtations. All at the same time. It was a rough life being as badass as he was during the night life, but he managed to pull it off.

Something he couldn't pull off, however, was the quaking and throbbing headache from whatever he got up to last night. The Joyan took another swig of rum from his canteen, not served by the cafe itself of course, and awaited the order of black coffee and biscuits he had paid for minutes prior. Perhaps those would find him the answer he needed, but until then he would indulge in anything to distract him from the pain.

When the man turned to the cafe for recognition, Tomoe was the first to break the awkward silence with his true and honest thoughts, because such things were the only way to get to the heart of the matter.

"Why don't ya tell me where ya got that eye injury of yours from, bud? Interrupted earlier, sure, but let's hear it. What was it that gave way to the cool and badass killer that you now are?", Tomoe questioned, once more diving into his rum flask before listening in on what the odd patron had to say with eyes locked firmly towards him, ready to be told a story of truly heroic proportions.

Zane turned to the man making such untrue accusations as to the quality of his eyepatch, both his head and his body facing in the direction of the table they were seated at. Zane got a good look at the dude. He looked like the type of guy who had poor taste. Though, wait... what exactly made someone look like they had poor taste? Zane's line of thinking was stopped by himself, realizing he had more important things to think about right now. That was actually the fastest that Zane had ever stopped a tangent inside his head. It just showed how much he cared about the super cool, awesome, good looking, badass, fashionable, lovable, charming, daring, intimidating, swashbuckling, handsome, beautiful, cute, and all the other positive adjectives he could possibly think of to describe it eyepatch.

Zane laughed at the man's words, a laugh that sounded as though he was trying to get everyone else in the building to look at the man with disdained eyes rather than Zane. Zane's laugh made it sound as though the dude at the table was insane. How could somebody not love this eyepatch, after all? "My story...? Well, I'll give you my story." This was when Zane realized he didn't have a story ready.

Alright, alright. Think think think. Earlier Zane had mentioned his brother and his clan, right? He could go from there and figure out the small stuff as he went along. Spreading his arms to the people of the establishment as he prepared to spread word of this epic tale, Zane spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen of Myras, I present to you... my story." Zane waited a few seconds for people to quiet down, not having realized they had been quiet this entire time.

"I was born into a clan of people. This clan of people were good people. The best people, in fact. But my brother... he killed them all. I tried to stop him, since he was killing my clan. But my brother and I fought. He got away, but took one of my eyes with him." Creating a fake sigh of grief that emerged from his mouth, Zane bowed his head in sadness as he thought of what else he could add to his story. There had to be more, right? He couldn't just end it there... there needed to be more, more character development. Something people would remember. "And that's when I met the love of my life... Susan... Barns." Taking a while to think of a last name, Zane cleared his throat and continued on.

"Susan was an amazing lady. I loved her more than anything else. She soothed the darkness in my heart... but then they came. The Black Claw. A group of assassins sent after me. Their leader? My brother." Pausing a moment to allow for any dramatic gasps (none of which ever arrived) Zane continued. "And they killed her, so I snapped. So I killed all the assassins. And now I hunt down my brother to stop the Black Claw forever. They call me... Tornado." Zane thought the name at the end was pretty cool. He spent a whole hour thinking of it earlier. Probably his best work in all honesty.

The story was over. Zane looked to the faces of the people. They weren't cheering at all. Maybe they were scared? While Za- er, Tornado, was to be feared, he was not a monster. He wanted the people of the poorest section of Myras to admire him. To praise him as a hero. To feel safe thanks to him. He had to show that he was willing to let them show that love. "Please clap."

Tomoe's brow raised as the eccentric man tried to rile up a crowd. He looked from patron to patron, scanning their faces to see how effectively it was working. Seeing that nobody was joining in and people were mostly stone-faced, sharing the same look of brow-raised exasperation, or altogether ceasing eye contact, the place was more silent than a graveyard. Well, if a graveyard's residents could spit, slobber and cough up a lung, anyway. Factoring those in, perhaps the cafe was slightly louder than a graveyard. Ultimately it didn't matter, because the idea that it was quiet and low energy remained true. Other than Tomoe, the eyepatch man and the barista, nobody had uttered a word in as long as memory served.

One random young boy in the back of the corner clapped quickly and quietly in the corner of the establishment. He appeared bright-eyed and full of dreams, unlike the rest of the crushed souls that frequented the place. His naive support was quickly snuffed to a quiet pace and then silenced altogether when a few of the nastier, older and gruff folk shot dirty looks his way, as if to say, "don't boost this clown's confidence". Tomoe joined in with a slow, sarcastic clap after eyepatch had finished his story. He received the same glares from the same mean-mugging individuals up until he subtly stretched his body and revealed the sword sheathed at his hip without shooting any obvious malice back at them. That was the life of a scumbag drunk, after all, and Mr. Tanaka wasn't going to deny that he fit that description remarkably well.

Once Tomoe finished clapping and shrugging off the nonverbal threats of those around him, he spread his arms wide.

"And there we have it. Good story, man. But judging from the looks of these guys... Tornado?"

Tomoe paused with a snicker and a small chuckle as he looked at the various thugs, degenerates and working class trying to get by and enjoy time to themselves undisturbed, and then back to eyepatch.

"More like Bore-nado. Am I right, or am I right? Heh!", Tomoe exclaimed, chuckling a smug chuckle to himself as he drank deeper of the rum in his possession while still waiting on something to relieve his hangover; the alcohol was probably getting to him worse than he thought.

He stood up from his seat with a wobble, pointing a curious finger towards Tornado as if in question while closing in on the man, stopping a few feet in front of him.

"Black Claw, yeah? Those are those guys down in the Sieghart Mountains, right?", Tomoe inquired, shooting a curious look towards Bore-nado with his hands crossed, awaiting a response.

The Joyan wasn't entirely convinced of eyepatch man's story, and wanted to see how committed he was to it if it was truly some kind of bit. Was this that "improv" that Tomoe had heard about from Masami while discussing theater? It sounded vaguely the same, and if so, it was a godawful first experience with it. This felt awkward, more than entertaining.

Upon the young boy's clap Zane would bump his fist and point to the lad, a way of showing appreciation to the one person in the building who thought his epic backstory was cool. He hoped that the young man would grow up one day to thrive, to escape this hellhole and to truly succeed. Zane probably wouldn't help him though, but he figured that silently wishing it upon the kid would at least give him some sort of good karma he could cash in at a later date. While this wasn't the turnout Zane had hoped for, he figured that the people of the lower district were most likely insanely jaded. It was their fault, not Zane's. That was the quickest and easiest explanation Zane could use to satisfy his delusions, so that was what he went with in his head. The silence of the vast majority of the customers would no longer bother him... or so he assured himself, anyway.

Too caught up in his fantasies (and the intricate planning of the further explanation of his deep lore within his head) to properly notice the interactions between the man in front of him and some in the establishment. Upon the man's comment on Zane's epic nickname, he would immediately perk up to share more of his intricate history that was definitely 100% real and not made up at all. "Ah, yes. Tornado. The first time I was called that by both my admirers and my enemies, it wa-" Having spoken at the same time as the man's insult of Zane's glorious new title, he stopped halfway through as he processed what the man in front of him had just said.

Zane's body trembled. He withheld his emotions the best he could, but the look on his face clearly showed that he wasn't feeling too good about this. He was seething. In the end, this brought back some memories of when Zane would get like this back in Baska. As a kid, he was never quite good at handling the teasing and banter of the other boys his age. While some kids would get mad at this, Zane had what some would refer to as a sort of "baby rage". He would get angry, but the reaction he had was more often pitiful instead of threatening. "Y-you're... you're a bore-nado!" Zane exclaimed back, clearly very upset by the comment, seemingly already holding back some small tears. Why was Zane getting so worked up over this false backstory anyways? It was hard to tell, really. Perhaps he was so bored with his time in Myras that he felt he needed to do this to find something to do. Perhaps it was something deeper, a need to be different than how he actually was. Zane was a person who never really made that much sense, so it was hard to truly psycho analyze him. He very well could go his whole life never truly understanding why he was doing any of this.

Turning to sit back on the stool, Zane took this chance to collect himself without anyone watching. It took him only a few seconds to regain his cool for the most part. He wouldn't let this guy beat him in this random argument in the middle of the poorest streets of Myras. He would use his words to win everyone else over. He would prove the man wrong. "Black Claw? Sieghart? Ha, if you think that, well... you have a lot to learn." Zane paused for a moment to think of a cool place for the Black Claw to be instead. Doing a 180 degree spin on the stool he sat on to once again face the man, Zane crossed his legs, his elbow on his knee and his hand stroking his chin. A smug smile filled his face. He had to have confidence if he was to win over the people of this fine city, right? Time to look - and act - the part. "Any person who's even vaguely heard of the Black Claw know their base is in Orchidia. Well, the outskirts of the city anyways. All that vegetation around there makes it easy to set up a hidden base after all."

Eyepatch just wouldn't quit it with his story. Rather than admit to perhaps a lie or two, he kept it going. Based purely on that there was some level of admiration to be found, maybe. One could almost call it cool, his ability to tell such stories, if not for the fact that it was likely to stroke his own ego. Though maybe it could be a real story. Suppose it was. If it was, didn't that mean that there was some shady organization out there that was just killing people? Killing entire families, for some reason?

Come to think of it... why? Why would Black Claw kill some family in the first place? There was the whole brother angle, sure, but that wasn't enough. There had to be more, and Tomoe wanted to draw out the full potential of this story if the eyepatch wouldn't give up on it.

"So why'd Black Claw kill your family then, eh? An' more than that, if you know where they are, couldn't you settle this shitshow right now? Hell, I'd join ya for it, if ya needed some help with it.", Tomoe fired off questions, even going so far as to insist upon his own support if necessary; it wasn't quite a bluff either, as Tomoe would be fully willing to go the distance of helping out if even an iota of the story was true.

Given the nature of Fiore as a whole, it's not like the story could be denied outright. That being said, holes enough to sink a ship were forming, and Tomoe awaited explanations to plug these holes. Would the ship sink? Would Bore-nado drown under pressure? The Joyan's sunset orange eyes gazed towards the storyteller, curious as to how the story would develop and perhaps even become even more grand than it once was.

Nobody in town today had listened so closely to Zane's stories. They did not criticize them nearly as much as the man in front of him did, but they did not pay as much attention as he did either. Despite the fact that the man was still trying to rip holes in his plotline, Zane felt flattered by it if anything. The person in front of Zane right now was the one who cared the most about his little tale. The realization that came with this was almost enough to make Zane simply admit it was all fiction. Keyword almost. Zane still had time for one final stand. The man had threw him a curveball - he never expected for someone to ask something like that. He didn't have the details of that all planned out. Zane chuckled, almost as if to mock the man. That was Zane's intention anyways - out loud it was clearly a nervous chuckle. Still, he kept that same air of confidence in his head. The man had got the slip on Zane, but only for a moment. Zane knew just how to get out of this. At least, he thought he did...

Buying a bit more time to think up of the details of his epic saga, Zane paced around the room for a few seconds, shaking his head and giving a "tsk" sound a few times, almost as if he was some wise mentor who had just witnessed his pupil asking a stupid question, one he should already know the answer to. After all, who didn't know the Black Claw? "My brother - and the Black Claw by extension - had a very clear reason to kill my family. That reason was..." Zane dramatically pointed his finger upwards, making sure to do it very slowly so that he could have even the smallest bit more to iron out the details in his mind. "The secrets of flight! You see, my mother and father knew a very powerful spell. An extremely powerful one. While it didn't have the greatest offense, it allowed them to fly for as long as they wanted, as high as they wanted, and all at a great speed to boot."

Zane now felt like he was back on track. He made his way back to the stool, spreading his arms out behind him to rest them on the counters, crossing his legs and reclining back as he continued on with his tale, now more sure of himself than ever. "My brother, he wanted the magic, so he killed them." Zane realized that made no sense, catching himself. He leaned forward, clearly nervous from his mistake, his words quick to correct it. "Uh, wait, no, I meant like, he killed them because they wouldn't tell him. Like, how to use it I mean." Zane scratched his chin, almost a cue that he was losing his cool. "And the reason why nobody can find the Black Fang - I mean, the Black Talon. No, wait, the Black Claw. Nobody can find them because... um..."

The tables were turned against Zane. The whole place would no longer believe him at this point, no matter how hard he tried. Despite his delusions, this plan simply wouldn't work. Zane knew it was best to simply give up while he was still ahead of everything. Nervously clapping once and spreading his arms open, Zane gave an awkward chuckle. "Cause they don't exist! Ahhh, you guys really fell for my story good, eh? But I mean, hey, it was a pretty cool one, right?" Zane didn't know how the people would react. Would he get beat up? Would they laugh? Would nobody care? Something bad? Something good? Zane awaited the reactions of the people, especially the man asking all the question, as he nervously looked around the establishment. It seemed like the adventures of Tornado were quickly coming to a close after all....

Each time the eyepatch man would have slipped up in his story, Tomoe would have let out an increasingly loud and suspicious, "hmmm?" noise with the thumb and index finger of his right hand resting on his chin as if in thought. The inconsistencies were piling up. Tomoe was a storyteller himself, and combined with Masami's little acts and stories now and again, the Joyan warrior had built up something of a resistance to people trying to bluff him or tell a story that wasn't fully thought out. It wasn't any kind of supernatural ability or anything special, even. Simply put, Tomoe was rapidly learning the difference between true stories and fabrications. In the line of work that he was in, learning that difference was crucial. He didn't want to pat himself on the back for it or anything, because ultimately if the liar in question came clean there was no need to develop such a skill. But it was always nice to have, if even just to point out the boasts of barroom buffoons.

Tomoe nodded his head to the man's story until its completion, eventually cracking a chuckle once the man finally made his fatal slip and came to admit defeat. Or at least, he should've admitted defeat. Rather than apologize or something of that nature, he actually had the balls to act like everybody was fully convinced. With that, Tomoe's chuckle turned to a full, gut-busting laugh directed towards Tornado.

"Ahahaha! Alright, alright. I'll admit defeat, for sure. You had me going, you did. It was a good story, that it was.", Tomoe cackled, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye at the man's audacity.

It was shameless liars who believed they were in the right that Tomoe got a kick out of most. Being one of those himself when needed, it was good to see that the hustle never stopped. No matter where one lived in the world, it remained consistent that there would be those seeking to make themselves appear bigger than they actually were. In contrast to Tomoe's joy, the young patron from the corner who previously applauded the epic story was dumbstruck. He had a look of shock, disappointment, and eventually disgust plastered upon his face towards his eyepatch-wearing idol. It was a look as if one told a very young child that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny weren't real.

At that, however, Tomoe was struck with another question. Rather than simply keep the question to himself, he figured it was time to address it instead. For all he knew, Bore-nado was going to walk out the doors any minute with the knowledge that if he stayed he could risk getting his ass kicked. If anybody tried to make a move on the enigmatic eyepatched man before the conversation had concluded, Tomoe would move to intercept their attacks without hesitation. There would be no violence in his vicinity unless he said so, and any who broke that unspoken rule would be punished. Or at least until after he'd gotten his order, which seemed as if it was taking forever.

"So what actually got ya that eyepatch then, pal? The air's clear now, so ya can answer honestly. I bet it was something super lame like a grease fire or something, right? It would have to be something mundane like that for you to try to tell a story like you did.", Tomoe pressed further, leaning in once more in curiosity of Tornado - if that was even his real name.

Scratch that, it definitely wasn't his real name at all.

The jig was jimmied. The ruse was revealed. The secret was shown. The trick was torn. Zane tried to think of more phrases like that, but his mind came blank. Thesaurus' were not always quite as user friendly as he wanted them to be. He also didn't have a thesaurus. Still, the man in front of Zane seemed quite pleased with the reveal of the entire thing being a work of fiction. It was what Zane was hoping for, but not quite expecting. Perhaps there were some in this part of town who had the same refined sense of humor Zane possessed. A nice sign for this place.

Zane laughed along with the man, ignoring the reactions from everyone else in the building, knowing they were most likely not pleasant. Still, the guy in front of Zane was the only one worth noting either way - beside the kid from earlier, anyways, one that Zane had actually kind of forgotten about, no offense to the kid. "Truly a fictional masterpiece, eh?" he said with a semi-sarcastic tone in his voice, almost as if he was unsure if his own story was hot garbage or a modern of art. Zane calmed his laughter down a bit once a moment or two had passed, giving himself a happy sigh as he finally winded down, relaxing on the stool at the counter once more.

"Oh, how did I get it?" Zane asked, deciding that he may as well tell the man the real reason. He had managed to see through Zane and get him to admit all of this. He deserved to know, at the very least. The reason was perhaps not the most exciting, but it was still a reason nonetheless. At least it wasn't a lame grease fire like the man suggested. "Here, I'll show you. Healed earlier today." Reaching his hand behind his head, Zane proceeded to slowly take off his eyepatch, revealing an otherwise completely healthy looking eye. "A girl I know, a friend of mine... well, there was a misunderstanding of sorts, and she kinda hit me quite hard. Was bruised for a little bit, but it's all good now."

Zane took his eyepatch in his hands and proceeded to put it on back more, almost missing the feeling of it being on his face rather than just the aesthetic purpose of it. "I've grown to be quite fond of the thing, though." It was true. Zane wasn't sure what it was about this eyepatch, but he seemed to be drawn to it. He thought about perhaps intentionally injuring his eye permanently to keep it on, but.... that plan had some very obvious flaws that stood in the way of it ever happening. Zane looked back to the man, a smile on his face. He thought to finally tell him his name. A real name, of course. One that unfortunately did not seem as cool (to Zane) as Tornado ever would be. "Name is Zane, by the way. Er, Christian Zane. Always kinda forget that I have a first name... how about you?"

"Huh. How about that.", Tomoe spoke, leaning in to get a look at the now exposed eye.

It was less lame than a grease fire, for sure. That being said, the guy would probably look better without an eyepatch than with one. It was an overrated fashion statement nowadays, and it simply looked like a guy was trying too hard if he had one. Nothing to be done about it if there was an actual injury, though. In the heat of battle it'd be a hindrance to vision, which definitely didn't work to the wearer's advantage.

"I'm Tomoe. Tanaka, if we're doing last names too. I think Zane works a lot better than Tornado, if I'm bein' honest. That one sounds like some shit a kid came up with for their superhero story, no offense. The story was good but you gotta work on character names, man.", Tomoe explained, turning his introduction into more of a critique by accident.

He preferred the name Zane. Rolled off the tongue a lot better. Made a lot more sense as far as being a name a person could actually have. There was a 'Christian' in there too, but that didn't matter so much.

Seeing the increasing aggro of the other customers and a growing sense of unease that somebody would soon throw a cup in Zane's direction if not an actual punch, Tomoe had grown tired of the place. So what if he hadn't gotten his actual order yet? The fact that it's taken this long, he'd just give it a bad review later. That'd be enough to ward off future customers, for sure. Maybe he'd even toss in his credibility as a guild master to really hit them where it hurts. For now, though, he needed to bid farewell.

"I'm gonna get outta here before somebody tries to fuck you up, rather than after, though.", Tomoe leaned in with a whisper, eyes darting occasionally to make sure nobody was already upon them.

After that, he would walk to the door and turn to Zane one last time.

"It was a pleasure meetin' ya. Let's do it again some time, yeah? Hit me up in Marigold if ya find yourself out that way eventually.", he concluded, giving Zane an invitation for a future meeting if they found their paths crossing in the future.

And just like that, Tomoe was out into the streets before any true ruckus could start inside the establishment.

---

- Exit -

"Aha, it is better than Tornado, correct. Still, Tornado isn't THAT bad..." Zane still held at least one small shred of pride in his heart for his amazing story, even if most of said pride had been shattered by now. Still, he was glad that he seemed to have made a friend of sorts of the man. A few minutes ago Zane though that he hated Tomoe - after all, he had roasted his amazing work of fiction. It really was crazy how fast your opinion of someone could change. "Nice you meet you though, Tomoe."

The customers seemed about fed up with the two's conversation. Zane was extra aware of this after Tomoe pointed it out to him. Should he stick around longer he would most likely just get beat up by some dude - while Zane was an amazing bluffer, he undoubtedly wasn't the strongest guy around. He didn't want to risk having his teeth punched in by someone around here. Zane took a mental note to leave soon after Tomoe. "Yeaaahh, I suppose I did kinda disturb the "peace" around here. I should probably skedaddle soon after."

Waving to Tomoe as he bid Zane farewell, a smile lit up upon Christian's face. "Will do. I wander around a lot, so if I'm ever in town I'll make sure to find you. Take care." Zane waited about 10 seconds after Tomoe left to look around the place. Yup, it was definitely time to bounce. Half a minute more in there and something bad would most likely happen. Quickly exiting the building, Zane was back on the streets of Myras. Sighing, he figured it was most likely time to get out of the lower district. He had his fun today, after all. No reason to hang around after the act was all done with. It seemed it was the end of Tornado...

Later that night, Zane sat in his hotel room. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked back. Obviously, this was not how mirrors worked. He had went over this earlier today, remember? Taking the eyepatch off his face before he slept, Zane looked into the eye it had been covering. Maybe Tomoe was right. Maybe this eyepatch wasn't really all that cool. Maybe he should just take the advice given to him. Perhaps this eyepatch was just Zane's way of coping with something. Zane's way of trying to become something he wasn't, to be someone he wasn't trying to be. It was possible this whole thing had been born out of some kind of envy to everyone around him, causing him to try and prove himself in such a flamboyant way. That was probably the case, now that Zane thought about it... Zane looked down at his eyepatch, standing up from the bed he sat on. Zane placed the eyepatch on the desk with the mirror on it, looking down at it. This was stupid. He didn't need to wear it ever again. Turning around, Zane prepared to go to bed without his eyepatch on.

Zane slept soundly that night, his eyepatch on his right eye just as it was before.

EXIT