Late again. 300 words, required phrase in bold.
ou're late, again," the fat, little goblin says from his windowed shed.
The troll pauses, turns and glares in the window. Even though the troll couldn't reach him the goblin flinches back.
"Garrick, I'm not late. I got here before you this evening," the troll replies with patience.
"No, I was here first," the goblin says defensively.
"How did you get the door open?"
"It was already open."
"Correct, how did it get that way?"
"I opened it. Do not mark me down as late or I will come late and you will be standing outside, bait for the Bangos. Is that clear?"
The goblin looks defiant for a moment, then wilts under the troll's stare nods his head and turns away from the window.
The troll grunts then continues to the anteroom that'd been turned into a guard room.
arl, why are you late?" the tall, skinny, half-elf standing farthest from the door asks of the troll just entering.
"Why else, Captain? It's Bango mating season, the damn things are prowling everywhere. I had to toss two into the canyon and kill a third. I need a new long blade," Carl replies then asks. "Who opened the door this evening?"
"Benny, I think," a dwarf says, sitting on a stool, oiling his bolt action sniper rifle.
"Do I need to talk to Garrick?" the Captain asks.
"Nope. Told him I'd been here all along. Seems us trolls all look alike to fat gobbies," Carl says after taking a long knife from stores and sitting down at the table.
"Good. I hate that little ... the less I have to do with him the better. Shifts for the rest of the week are posted in the mess. Harten is on leave pending an inquiry into the death of Garrick's predecessor," the Captain says before leaving the room.