My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

"Well! Lookie who decided to show his face to me again, hah? Finally grew a pair while taking a piss, shit, whatever, did ya? Ready to take me on like the man you oughta be for my—hic—sweet little girl?!"

There he was, exactly where I had left him moments prior, the sleek, the smart, the immaculate picture of prim and proper. The very same man that calmly and effortlessly had me second-guessing every single word I said was now slurring and shouting his, upright but staggering, and even very nearly tripping on his chair that was now toppled on the ground for some reason.

After formally extending his apologies to the poor chair, and tossing back a swig of absolutely nothing from a depleted wine glass awkwardly gripped in his fist, Mr. Collins promptly began vocalizing his hostility toward me with a constant low hum seeping out of a clenched frown. On the table, rolled and swiveled another empty glass… I'm guessing that one used to be mine.

Doesn't need asking, doesn't need wondering, but ask and wonder I will anyway—what the fuck did I just walk myself back into?

"You just going to stand there, or are we going to drink?" He asked in a crude slew of flying spit. "You still got many, many things to account for! You aren't laying a single finger on my daughter until I know you're a billionaire entrepreneur or a prince of some exotic country, or even both! You understand me?"

Frankly, I don't even know if it was even safe anymore to be within five feet of him, especially not when he was hunching the way he was like he was ready to charge me straight into the nearest wall.

He just had two glasses…

"Dad?" softly sounded a sweet, soft voice from behind me. Amanda strode past me in a light prance, and on her face was a devious smile hiding behind a well-fitting mask of innocence. "You holding up alright? Want some water?"

"O-Oh, Amanda, you're… you're here, you're back…" Mr. Collins did a complete 180, all his ferocity and enmity seemingly up and vanishing at the sight of his beloved daughter. With a ditzy smile, and in a gentler tone, he spoke, "Yes… yes, water… be a dear… I'd like some water."

Amanda threw me a glance, as if waiting for me to shower her with praises for her ingenuity… but honestly, I was much too busy focusing on her dad and in his uphill battle wondering where his seat on the table went.

"Well, you heard him, didn't you?" She whispered to me, taking mild satisfaction in my stunned silence. "Go be a dear to my father."

How does a man fall so far from grace after only two drinks? It's like I just witnessed a giant brute crying over a stubbed though. For Mr. Collins to go from the epitome of refinement to nearly falling off his seat plopping himself down before wiping the spit stocking to his lips with the sleeve of his suit—and here I was thinking I've seen it all.

I poured Mr. Collins a cool glass of fresh H2O, cautiously placing it on the table beside him, like I was handing fresh meat to a docile lion, and without even glancing up, he took the cup to his lips and drank it all in one swift gulp.

"Thanks. Love you, sweet pea."

Yeah, love you too, Mr. Collins.

"He gets progressively worse over time before he gets better," Amanda said, drawing up to my side, taking the half-finished bottle of wine, and stashing it away from her father's reach. "Mom's the only one that can control him when he's like this."

"Then call her," I suggested.

"Already have," She wriggled the bright glow of her phone display at me. "Not answering, though. Do not disturb is probably on. She went for a smoke, didn't she? She does that when she needs to take a breather."

The table shook with a hard boom, as Mr. Collins miscalculated the position of his hand trying to rest his head against it only to instead wind up bashing his skull facefirst.

"Do excuse me," He muttered weakly, giving the poor table an apologetic pat. "I don't know what's come over me. I have very good insurance though, not to worry. Care to take my information?"

"Okay, I'll go fetch her," Amanda proclaimed, brushing a playful across my cheek as she turned away. "Be back in a bit, alright?"

But before she could walk beyond reach, I managed to catch her wrist in time… because like hell she was gonna leave me alone here with an extremely inebriated papa bear with a penchant for seeing the worst in me.

Amanda saw the widening alarm in my eyes, and returned back to me only briefly to plant a quick reassuring kiss on my other cheek.

"Just make sure he doesn't walk out a window, alright?" She told me, wriggling her hand free and giving mine a comforting squeeze. "He's totally harmless. Trust me."

I was about to say something until whatever I was about to say was forced down my throat with a deep tumultuous cry of utter outrage and the resounding slam of a fist against the sturdiness of wood.

"Hey! I saw that! You! Don't think I didn't, you—how dare you! You have the audacity to kiss my daughter in front of me?! Are you deaf? Can't you listen?! And you call yourself a respectful, gentleman of a man? I don't think so!"

Okay, first off, I've never said that, and secondly, what the shit—she kissed me! Why am I being placed with the blame?

"Like I said—harmless," Amanda said, walking off and this time reaching the entrance before I could stop her again. Then pausing once before a doorway hanging ajar, she rounded a sharp gaze over to her father. "Also, dad, if you don't start seeing eye-to-eye with him soon, then I'll be really upset with you. Really. Upset. You get one warning."

"What?!" Another plunging fist, and both glasses on the table almost went soaring. "Sweetheart, it isn't my fault your boy… your 'boyfriend' here isn't living up to standards! Like hell I'm leaving with you guy that's only here to fling and swindle you!"

"He's not!" Amanda exclaimed.

"I'm not!" and I followed after.

"But I don't know that!" Mr. Collins cried out even more defiantly. "But you know what I know? I know he's hiding something! I can sense it, see it… and I'm going to find out just what it is, so help me God."

"Then good luck," Amanda said, marching herself on the other side of the doorway—a smile at me, an even wider smile at her father—before she went and closed the door after her. "You only got five minutes."