@HighLordMhoram The Tipped Hand. A ratty little tavern in a bad part of Reajh. A place of low standards. Nearly abandoned during the day, occasionally raucous at night.
This morning was no different. The bartender sat at one of the stools of the counter. Next to him, Lonergan, one of the
Hand's usuals. And next to Lonergan, a fourteen-year-old girl, Aura. Only two others, sitting at one of the tavern's tables and drinking quietly.
Dim, aside from the meager light from the fireplace and what little of the morning sun leaked in through the small window by the door.
Aura lowered her hood. Straightened out her hair with a stroke of her hand. Looked over to Lonergan. Said, "Crystal."
"Ah, geez." Lonergan started digging around in his pants pocket. "You know Cherno doesn't like you smokin' this stuff."
A flat response. "So."
"Well, he wouldn't punch you for it, but he'd sure as shit punch me."
And again. "So."
"He's a big guy."
Aura shrugged.
"I mean, a
really big guy."
Aura just stared at him.
Lonergan found it. A small rolled cigarette of Crystal Vane. Bits of the bluish green plant sticking out of one end. "Look, just...hurry up and smoke that before he gets back in here, would ya?"
Aura reached into her own pocket and pulled out two silver. Set the coins down on the counter. Lonergan nodded, and they made the exchange.
Two times eight is sixteen. Aura stood up and walked over to the fireplace and lit the cigarette and sat back down at the counter next to Lonergan.
And, just as soon as she put the cigarette to her lips, the tavern door opened and Cherno came in.
Cherno "Ogre" Korchagin finished fastening his belt, walked from the outhouse to the front door of the tavern, and pushed it open.
And what did he see? Aura, cigarette in hand, and Lonergan, with a face like a puppy about to be scolded. Goddammit. This girl. Never fucking listens. How the hell did he get stuck doing this babysitting bullshit? Fucking Ansgar, he missed the simple days of smuggling.
Cherno stomped over to Aura and swiped the cigarette out of her hand. "Gimme that! How many times I gotta tell you not to smoke this shit?"
Aura glanced up at him. "It calms me."
"Yeah, well, we got a job to do today, so maybe you ought to be jittery." Cherno sat down on the stool next to her, then pointed straight at Lonergan. "And you—"
"Wasn't me."
"Horseshit." Cherno wagged his finger a couple times. "I catch you sellin' that shit to her, I break your nose. That's the best offer you're gonna get. Deal?"
"Uh. Sure. Deal. But it still wasn't me."
A moment of quiet. The bartender, jaded and aloof as always, sat drinking a mug of beer. Lonergan, that weaselly fuck, suddenly remembered he had somewhere to be and left the tavern. Aura folded her arms on the counter and rested her head on them, staring off at a random point in space.
Thoughts intruded on Cherno. Shit. Maybe he ought to take up smokin' a little Vane. Or at least tobacco. Something to calm him down on the regular. He wasn't always this consistently angry. Wasn't that kind of guy. But lately, taking care of Aura...god damn. He was reminded again and again why he just wasn't cut out to be a father—even a surrogate one. He had no idea what Mr. Winters truly wanted with Aura, or how long this assignment would be, but hopefully it'd be behind him soon enough.
The jobs on offer today from Ophelia were shit. Scout out The Pit and get a headcount of the men stationed there? No thanks. Investigate some murder? No thanks. Go to some farm and get the guy to pay up? No thanks.
But Cherno had to take Aura out and do something. Get her experienced. Used to how things worked in the business. Couldn't just sit on his ass all day.