Mr Sulcus' misaligned cuffs and kerchief and casting back in his mind for non-convivial encouters ? That was my stab at romance ! With a shooting stick possibly to judge by your reaction ...

"A,B&E", "Not In My Name" and "52FF" (flash fiction anthology) all available on Amazon Kindle

"How a psychopath makes sweet love. I can get you ringside. Royal box even."

That's romance?!

I seriously doubt that fantasy is beyond you Sulcus, no way. I merely hammed it up, having first stretched my mind back to that distant youth when such barabarian fantasy was de rigeur - well, it had to be didn't it, there was very little else around...other than JRR, Fritz Lieber, Mr Poe, Mike Moorcock, John Norman, Ann McCaffrey, Ursula Le Guin, Alan Garner and...okay, I admit that I enjoyed it.

You could too, but beware, 'tis a dark path once around that first bend...
Work as if you live in the early days of a better nation - Alasdair Gray

Okay, you twisted my arm ...

Sulcus the Paladin of Eternal Patience, pressed the button to retract his wrist guard. (Some pirated software when the men came to install the electronic door to bolt his stable). Paladin he maybe, but he'd have been a village idiot to overlook this gift horse that fell into his hands and now plated them. Titanium, the heaviest metal to immerse yourself in. And it was goooo-d !

He consulted his Rolex. Patently another day waxed, (unlike the sheen on his tarnished armour, well times were hard what with the barbarians in control of the asylum. Couldn't even afford a tin of Brasso). A further night had also waned here in the tavern. He counted up the number of beer mats he had shredded along his vigil. He punched in their number onto a spreadhseet of absolutions and recompenses, held within his palm pilot (standard Paladin issue on reaching Third Rung of Purgation).

He had managed to nurse his miniature pack of Twiglets through the whole small hours. He had earned evil stares from the mixologist behind the bar, but none as bad as the evils daggered at him by the same man's comely daughter ( if somebody elfin can be said to be 'comely'. A stomach staple wouldn't have come amiss there). No, cast out vile thoughts he upbraided himself. But even he, the Stoics Society's Stoic of the Year three times on the trot (still waiting for them to engrave the bloody trophy though !), even he could not cast out yet darker thoughts currently insinuating themselves on his mind.

A missing name on a trinket trophy from JJB Sports bargain bin was one thing. But not to hear back from the Society of Bards about his verses. That was a blow to his ego too far. It was a dark, dark night and had just claimed another restless soul. And awarded him, a would-be man of letters, just one more for his collection. The letter 'K', to put in front of his new nocturnal allegiance. "A,B&E", "Not In My Name" and "52FF" (flash fiction anthology) all available on Amazon Kindle

"How a psychopath makes sweet love. I can get you ringside. Royal box even."

That's just one of the fun things you can do with fantasy...like it - by far the best thread going.
Work as if you live in the early days of a better nation - Alasdair Gray