Soren suspected that Tanya's secret-sharing was primarily a way to bring him into her confidence, or appear to, and to get closer to him, and to whisper something that the rest of the bar wouldn't hear. But, perhaps it wasn't, and he tucked her story of having no childhood memories away in his mind like a folded up note. But he made no outward reaction to the claim. Instead, he smiled and said, "All the way to Fell, huh? You're certainly well-traveled."
But the comment about the slaves and the plague made him frown. Pepper was a slave now. Or dead. Suddenly he wasn't at the bar, but was flashing through all the other scenarios that could have played out. He could have never gone to that cursed town. And never met her. He could have, but he could have just escorted her back through the woods. Or even just left - letting her go on her own, maybe dangerous, but she would have ended up better than now. Was dead better than being a slave? Now she might be either. There were so many opportunities that seemed so obvious now that Soren had chosen not to see then.
Soren's didn't really return to the bar until the new drink - as awful and foul as the rest of them had been - clinked loudly as it was set in front of him. First he was aware again of the drink then, looking up, reminded of Tanya. Right.
"What?" he asked, distractedly, and looking a little ashen. He tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh right, chess. Well, sort of. "Oh no," Soren said quickly, balking. "I hate chess. I was just bluffing. My brothers were all fantastic at it and - me being by far the youngest and least legitimate - took great pleasure in forcing me to play for me 'edification' then thoroughly trouncing me. It wasn't a fun exercise." Though he told the little anecdote with as much off-handed, nonchalant humor as he could muster, it seemed forced and his eyes quickly returned to the distance.
Suddenly, with all the feelings of guilt and wretchedness that led him into the bar returned, Soren found that he no longer wanted to be here. He was crossing the border, maybe, from 'fun, distraction' - or at least distraction - drunk to sad, well-of-introspection drunk. But he rallied his spirits as best he could. This woman, after all, had just bought him a drink. Raising the glass to her, Soren drank half of it in one go. Yup, still foul, he confirmed for himself. Once the burning sensation was down his throat and into his stomach, though, his briefly raised spirits flagged.
"Well, you've been lovely," Soren said as he put his glass down and picked up Tanya's hand to kiss it. The gesture was, despite the drink and his intention to leave, more intimate than affected. "But I think I should probably go." A pause before he remembered that he should maybe give a reason. "Before I end up pickled in this awful liquor. Besides," he added, leaning in himself this time, and forcing a little knowing smile as he canted his head to indicate the rest of the men in the bar, "I think I've probably monopolized too much of your time. I'm getting the evil eye from at least one of these guys."
Soren kissed her hand, which he hadn't let go, again, then got up, releasing her. He paid his share of his drinks, gave Tanya another smile, then headed out of the bar, feeling - once again - awful.