Of Cowboys and Kings

Careen wasn't cowed by some bloody nosed drunk. ...Though a teeny tiny part of her MIGHT have felt bad for catching his nose. She didn't want any of her minions to look like they got the shit beat out of them everyday.

Glaring up at him and even rising up on her toes so she could attempt to meet him eye to eye, Careen jabbed his chest with a finger.

"You heard me. No more drinking. Your stupidass can barely stand or climb a horse. What happens if invaders come marchin' in to my country and take over? What if some asshole tries to assassinate your queen! Any jerk with a stick could bean you over the head and burn down my goddamned castle before you picked yourself off the floor!"

"No booze! Period!" Except for parties. But this was a case where being strict was a necessity.
 
Jim's mouth worked silently in a futile attempt to express the emotions he was feeling at the moment. He couldn't seem to find the right words however, so instead settled for an elongated "eeeugggh" noise instead. It was cut short by Careen grabbing him by the shoulder and whirling him to face the horse again.

"Quit gawkin' at me and get your ass on the horse!"

He muttered to himself bitterly, stumbling the few paces to close with the animal. The second try went a little more smoothly than the first, with fewer failed attempts at actually getting into the saddle. He looked at his bitchy new boss with no shortage of annoyance. His words came out in a tired mumble. "Where th' hell we goin' anyway?"