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Mocha #19. You'll Have to Do Better Than That with Hot Fudge
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1270's
Word Count : 710
“My, my, well you don’t look so scary up close.”
“Pardon?” Lyssa’s mug hit the bar with a thump and a slosh from half-drunk ale within, and she rounded slowly on the speaker.
A short, thick figure sporting a heavy cloak and toothy grin hoisted herself onto the stool beside her. “Nice sword anyway,” she said, her eyes lingering on the hilt at Lyssa‘s hip. “Is it sharp?”
Lyssa’s hand clenched around her cup as she fought the urge to let it drop to the weapon. “Want to find out?”
The woman shrugged out of her cloak and casually draped the garment across her lap. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “Not that I suspect that’s worth much.”
Another impulse rose to reach for the sword and was hastily quashed as Lyssa looked her up and down. Round face, upturned nose, dark eyes that studied her in return over lips curled back across stark white teeth. “Do I know you?”
“You should if you’ve been paying attention.” She waved the barkeeper over. “Not much better at that than Kairn was, are you?” Lyssa’s hand closed over the hilt of her weapon and the barkeeper shot her a look as he poured the woman’s drink. “Relax,” she said, the comment clearly aimed at Lyssa even as she tossed the man a coin and, with a last scowl of warning at the both of them, he scuttled away. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
Lyssa loosened her grip, but kept her hand coiled around the hilt. “What are you here for?”
The woman shrugged. “A little friendly drink?” She lifted the cup to her lips, took a gulp, gave a cough and a frown, and replaced it on the counter. “I like to check in on things now and then, make sure the kid’s still breathing and it hasn’t all been a waste.” She looked her slowly up and down and the haughty grin slid back into place. “Looks like you’re doing a fine job though. You stash him safe and sound in your room before you came down here to get drunk? I’ll bet you even took the time to lock the door and windows. How thoughtful.”
Lyssa’s hand twitched against the sword. “You’re starting to wear on my patience,” she said.
The other’s eyes fell to her hand. “You wouldn’t draw on me in public, now would you? An unarmed woman?”
“Maybe you should have asked Kairn if I wouldn’t.” Another cautionary look from the man behind the bar and she let her hand fall.
The woman clucked her tongue. “Temper, temper,” she said. “I don’t know what he ever saw in you.”
“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
“Hmm?” She raised her mug, shook her head before it met her lips, and set it back down.
“Kairn.”
“Perhaps.”
Her hand went to the hilt again. She glanced down the counter at the aproned figure doling out drinks and let it rest. “Is he alright?”
The woman shook her head and gave her drink a shove towards the back of the counter. “You have more important things to worry about.”
“Is Kairn alright?” Lyssa repeated.
“He’s fine.” She gathered the cloak from her lap and turned to stare her straight in the eyes. “Look,” she said. “He gave you the kid. The least you could do is act like you gave a damn. If I find you anyplace again that I can just walk up and have this nice little private conversation with you, I’ll be taking him with me. You got that?”
Lyssa raised a brow, licked her lips and let out a slow, steady breath. The woman looked down, her jaw falling open, as from an unseen source, her skirt began to smolder. The breadth of a fingertip at first, it radiated outward, fabric charring and disintegrating until it left a burnt and ragged hole the size of a fist between her knees. Then, as swiftly as it began, it ceased.
“You,” said Lyssa, “lay a hand on that boy and you won’t be going much of anywhere.”
She plucked at her damaged skirt and laughed, a dry, sharp sound as condescending as her smile. “We’ll see,” she said as she slid from her stool. “We’ll see.”
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1270's
Word Count : 710
“My, my, well you don’t look so scary up close.”
“Pardon?” Lyssa’s mug hit the bar with a thump and a slosh from half-drunk ale within, and she rounded slowly on the speaker.
A short, thick figure sporting a heavy cloak and toothy grin hoisted herself onto the stool beside her. “Nice sword anyway,” she said, her eyes lingering on the hilt at Lyssa‘s hip. “Is it sharp?”
Lyssa’s hand clenched around her cup as she fought the urge to let it drop to the weapon. “Want to find out?”
The woman shrugged out of her cloak and casually draped the garment across her lap. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “Not that I suspect that’s worth much.”
Another impulse rose to reach for the sword and was hastily quashed as Lyssa looked her up and down. Round face, upturned nose, dark eyes that studied her in return over lips curled back across stark white teeth. “Do I know you?”
“You should if you’ve been paying attention.” She waved the barkeeper over. “Not much better at that than Kairn was, are you?” Lyssa’s hand closed over the hilt of her weapon and the barkeeper shot her a look as he poured the woman’s drink. “Relax,” she said, the comment clearly aimed at Lyssa even as she tossed the man a coin and, with a last scowl of warning at the both of them, he scuttled away. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
Lyssa loosened her grip, but kept her hand coiled around the hilt. “What are you here for?”
The woman shrugged. “A little friendly drink?” She lifted the cup to her lips, took a gulp, gave a cough and a frown, and replaced it on the counter. “I like to check in on things now and then, make sure the kid’s still breathing and it hasn’t all been a waste.” She looked her slowly up and down and the haughty grin slid back into place. “Looks like you’re doing a fine job though. You stash him safe and sound in your room before you came down here to get drunk? I’ll bet you even took the time to lock the door and windows. How thoughtful.”
Lyssa’s hand twitched against the sword. “You’re starting to wear on my patience,” she said.
The other’s eyes fell to her hand. “You wouldn’t draw on me in public, now would you? An unarmed woman?”
“Maybe you should have asked Kairn if I wouldn’t.” Another cautionary look from the man behind the bar and she let her hand fall.
The woman clucked her tongue. “Temper, temper,” she said. “I don’t know what he ever saw in you.”
“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
“Hmm?” She raised her mug, shook her head before it met her lips, and set it back down.
“Kairn.”
“Perhaps.”
Her hand went to the hilt again. She glanced down the counter at the aproned figure doling out drinks and let it rest. “Is he alright?”
The woman shook her head and gave her drink a shove towards the back of the counter. “You have more important things to worry about.”
“Is Kairn alright?” Lyssa repeated.
“He’s fine.” She gathered the cloak from her lap and turned to stare her straight in the eyes. “Look,” she said. “He gave you the kid. The least you could do is act like you gave a damn. If I find you anyplace again that I can just walk up and have this nice little private conversation with you, I’ll be taking him with me. You got that?”
Lyssa raised a brow, licked her lips and let out a slow, steady breath. The woman looked down, her jaw falling open, as from an unseen source, her skirt began to smolder. The breadth of a fingertip at first, it radiated outward, fabric charring and disintegrating until it left a burnt and ragged hole the size of a fist between her knees. Then, as swiftly as it began, it ceased.
“You,” said Lyssa, “lay a hand on that boy and you won’t be going much of anywhere.”
She plucked at her damaged skirt and laughed, a dry, sharp sound as condescending as her smile. “We’ll see,” she said as she slid from her stool. “We’ll see.”