The laughter rippled outward like a stone dropped in still water, warm and chaotic and human. Some of the older women were doubled over, clutching each other's shoulders for support.
A veteran with thick forearms and a gap-toothed grin wheezed so hard she knocked over a bucket. Even the two terrified men who had drawn their swords were sheathing them with sheepish grins, shoulders shaking.
Viktor looked around at all of it with mild, appreciative patience.
"Yeah, people," he said, raising his voice over the dying laughter, one hand still casually tucked in his pocket, his incubus mark pulsing with a faint, satisfied violet warmth. "I am exactly that."
"Shut up!"
