“Well, thanks but no thanks,” Shyan says. “We’ve heard that one before.”
“Yeah,” Fassn says. “You might mean you wanna have us for dinner. Like eat us.”
Cang is taken aback. “No, I never,” he says. Around him, his grumbling servants stand and groan. “I have not eaten human flesh in, oh,” and here he falls into reverie.
“Look, it seems like you’ve got a lot of guests here already,” Shyan says, gesturing to the dead-looking man-things. “Maybe you’d like to join us for a meal, instead? Take some of the load off of being a host.”
“Can’t imagine it’s easy,” Fassn says. He spots a candlestick and grabs it up, begins stripping the wax with his fingernails, crushing and rolling it in his fingers.
Cang snaps back to himself, or at least, to the lich within him. “And where would you have me dine, hm? At the lighthouse? Smack dab in the centre of the witch’s magic circle?”