Reckless Protector: Isaacson Trilogy Book Three

17

Esmund turned to the front and watched the road in silence, a look of deep concentration creasing his face. Ulric and Gunnar grinned from ear to ear, silently congratulating one another on outsmarting their younger, usually much wiser, little brother. Maybe, Ulric thought, they ought to get their photograph taken to mark the occasion after all.

A mile and a half passed with Ulric and Gunnar pretending not to study Esmund out of the corner of their eyes, waiting for him to respond. It would appear he and Gunnar had won.

Ulric couldn't help himself any longer and laughed in glee, "I don't think he's going to give in, Neeners." He leaned forward and caught Gunnar's gaze, "You want to fill out the paperwork while I get us rooms at the hotel? It's Esmund's turn to unload the dead."

Gunnar shrugged, "Sure, I'll meet you at the bathhouse afterward."

"Alright," Esmund said at last. He glanced between both brothers with a shrewd look on his face, "In exchange for one photograph before any of us bathe, eat, or sleep, I will do Ulric's chores for a week and spend an hour with Gunnar's evil nag."

Ulric cursed and hung his head.

"I should have insisted he stand closer," Gunnar muttered.

"Yes, you should have." Esmund grinned wide and crowed, "Sweet victory is mine!"

A little over an hour later, the three swaggered into The Golden Firefly Portrait Studio several buildings east of the Marshal's office. Dirt fell to the clean floor with every step, leaving a dust trail in their wake.

"Afternoon...uh...gentlemen," a short, rotund man said.

The blood drained from his face with each word, leaving him white as a sheet at the end. He remained behind his counter and forced his colorless lips into the semblance of a smile. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his eyes darted between the three of them, "H-how-" he cleared his throat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief, "how may I be...of service."

Esmund grinned and said in a sickeningly optimistic tone as he marched up to the counter, "We'd like our picture taken."

The man blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air for several seconds before finally speaking. "You'd like...picture..."

"Maybe we ought to come back later," Ulric quirked a brow and murmured, "He's looking mighty confused."

Esmund scowled at Ulric over his shoulder, "Hush your mouth. We're doing this right now, or we won't have it done at all."

"No skin off my teeth if we don't do it," Gunnar said with a shrug and walked away.

Esmund pulled him back to the counter. "We are not leaving yet."

"You really want this picture taken, don't you?" Gunnar laughed.

"Yes," Esmund nodded.

"Why?"

Esmund shrugged, "It's a matter of principle now."

Gunnar and Ulric shared a look.

Ulric sighed and muttered a curse before walking up to the counter next to his brothers. "Excuse me," He said to the frightened little man.

Pasting on what he hoped would pass for a polite smile, he continued, "As you've probably heard just now, my little brother is dead set on having our picture taken and won't allow us to leave until it's done."

The man stared back with a blank look on his face and his mouth hanging open. Growling a curse, Ulric motioned to the door with his head and ordered, "Let's go. I'm too hungry to deal with a slack-jawed daffodil right now."