Stirring the Pot

I stopped in the courtyard and spotted a lazy figure leaning against a wooden pillar nearby. It was Tristan, the one I kicked out last night.

"Tristan, can you speak properly?" Another deep voice came from an elegant private room—it was Alistair.

I was totally confused. 'Why are these two together?' I wondered.

'And why did they have to call me over for dinner too?' I thought, still trying to wrap