Losa walked into Jeanne's tent reeking of alcohol.
"Did you drink so much?"
The overwhelming smell of alcohol made Jeanne frown. Given the alcohol content of drinks in this era, she suspected that Losa had drunk several barrels of beer—why wasn't I included in this merry-making?
"I really did drink quite a lot. Could you prepare a tub of bath water for me?"
Losa was quite sober; his physical constitution was much stronger now, mere barrels of beer were nothing to him.
"Pfft, I risk my life for you on the battlefield, and off the battlefield, I have to prepare your bath—am I supposed to do everything myself when you're in bed later?"
Jeanne's response was as sharp as always.
Losa said seriously, "That's not necessary, it's just low-alcohol beer. Later in bed, you just need to lie back."
"Hey, I didn't agree to do that kind of thing."
Jeanne rolled her eyes, instinctively glanced at the tent entrance, which seemed not fully closed.
