Olivia had popped her head into the backroom after hearing the crash of glass breaking on the floor, and then seeing Saezer take off in a hurry through the door. "Prim, are you ok--" she cut herself off, seeing the girl covered in black ink with their plans in her arms, take off through the back door towards the fires out back.
"What are you doing?" she asked louder, starting to become concerned. There were small pieces of glass all over the floor of her back room, and thick, wet ink was smeared everywhere. Large shiny drops decorated the floor chaotically. Her auburn brows knit together in concern as she walked into the back room, looking at the mess Prim and Saezer had created. Her lips pressed together into a thin line. It did not sit well with her to have her personal space handled with such disregard for her passion.
Olivia threw open the back door, only to see blackened ash of what were once pieces of paper. A few flat, black pieces drifted threw the air, lifted by the heat waves of the fires. They sparkled with orange speckles, still smoldering. A large leather work boot landed on one of the pieces and crushed it out angrily. "What did you do, Prim?! Do you know how much time that took? Do you even want me to work on your house anymore? And, for Kia's sake, what happened in my work room?!" Widened, large green eyes stared at Prim in exasperation and frustration. Fair skinned hands were placed on her hips, with an irritated attitude emanating from her.
...............................
It did not take Saezer long to find the closest possible tavern, buy the cheapest ales available, and begin to pound them down, hardly taking a moment to breath. His hat was pulled down low, just above his eyes, and he sat in the emptiest and darkest corner of the tavern he could find, which was not hard, considering it was morning.
He felt upset and betrayed, to be sure, but he started to take the time to reflect on what he thought were signs from Prim, and how he may have misinterpreted them. She never actually had said she felt attracted to him, or that she had any intention of being intimate with him. They'd never actually kissed each others' lips, or shared a bed together. In the end, he had made assumptions, and gotten too caught up in his first friendship. It just happened to be coincidence that she was a pretty girl. After a few drinks, he started to feel more embarrassed than betrayed, but he had a hard time letting the latter, albeit irrational, emotion go.