Charles huffed. "Nice shot," he allowed, because it was, and it felt unsportsmanlike to say otherwise. Whether sportsmanship really applied to a game of gobstones was another question entirely, of course.
Charles eyed the marbles in front of him, saying, "Right, sure, humility. If you say so, I guess." Which was probably the wrong thing to say, it turned out, because Charles made his next shot, and the universe, it seemed, was unamused by his lack of enthusiasm for humility.
"Ach!" The spray of ink hit the boy squarely in the chest and he lurched back instinctively.
Charles eyed the marbles in front of him, saying, "Right, sure, humility. If you say so, I guess." Which was probably the wrong thing to say, it turned out, because Charles made his next shot, and the universe, it seemed, was unamused by his lack of enthusiasm for humility.
"Ach!" The spray of ink hit the boy squarely in the chest and he lurched back instinctively.