Quentin Boone
05-09-14, 08:40 PM
Closed to Christoph
Quentin walked into The Empty Hand with a sour expression on his face. His match in the Citadel had been cancelled and Adal had been unable to find a replacement fighter for him. "I've bloody lost near enough 'whole week's board, fuckin' Adal."
A few of the punters turned their heads at the newcomer, but most quickly turned them back; the regulars in the abysmal little inn knew enough about Quentin to not chafe him when one of his moods took hold. The brawler looked around for his friends but couldn't see them. He figured they were out finding means for the group to get by for the next few days, so made his way to the bar. As he limped his way towards an empty stool, Quentin noticed that Jannet was working; this lessened his mood slightly and as he sat he gave her a smile and took off the brown, sleeveless tunic.
As he tossed the tunic onto a stool next to him, Jannet approached with a wry smile of her own. The girl was friendly but far too scrawny and her pale red hair was greasy and matted; the fat bastard of an innkeeper clearly didn't pay her anywhere near enough. Nevertheless, she spoke with a flirtatious, musical tone, "What're you having, Quen?"
"Me usual, lass. Have ya seen Faaria abou'?" Boone replied with a gruff voice that still showed signs of annoyance.
"She's upstairs with him, has been for about ten minutes. She'll be down any time now." There was a slight chuckle from the girl at the last, as she responded to Quentin's question while pouring his drink. Boone, however, was not amused: He hated that Faaria had to do the things she did with the fat, dirty, sweaty bastard that owned the inn. "There you go, Quen. Want me to add it to your tab?"
"Best not'ta, lass. Adal le' me down." He gave two gold pieces and told Jannet to keep the change, which would be a piece and a half, and use it for food and water. She smiled at him with a polite thank you before moving along the bar to serve another patron.
Quentin ran a hand back and forth through his hair as he tried to think of how he'd get the money for the rent, but his mind and eye kept drifting toward the stairs and Faaria. Surely, she wouldn't have to do that for much longer. He took a long drink of the watered-down mead and groaned with distaste as he put the pewter pitcher back on the sticky, unpolished wood of the bar. "Shit."
Quentin walked into The Empty Hand with a sour expression on his face. His match in the Citadel had been cancelled and Adal had been unable to find a replacement fighter for him. "I've bloody lost near enough 'whole week's board, fuckin' Adal."
A few of the punters turned their heads at the newcomer, but most quickly turned them back; the regulars in the abysmal little inn knew enough about Quentin to not chafe him when one of his moods took hold. The brawler looked around for his friends but couldn't see them. He figured they were out finding means for the group to get by for the next few days, so made his way to the bar. As he limped his way towards an empty stool, Quentin noticed that Jannet was working; this lessened his mood slightly and as he sat he gave her a smile and took off the brown, sleeveless tunic.
As he tossed the tunic onto a stool next to him, Jannet approached with a wry smile of her own. The girl was friendly but far too scrawny and her pale red hair was greasy and matted; the fat bastard of an innkeeper clearly didn't pay her anywhere near enough. Nevertheless, she spoke with a flirtatious, musical tone, "What're you having, Quen?"
"Me usual, lass. Have ya seen Faaria abou'?" Boone replied with a gruff voice that still showed signs of annoyance.
"She's upstairs with him, has been for about ten minutes. She'll be down any time now." There was a slight chuckle from the girl at the last, as she responded to Quentin's question while pouring his drink. Boone, however, was not amused: He hated that Faaria had to do the things she did with the fat, dirty, sweaty bastard that owned the inn. "There you go, Quen. Want me to add it to your tab?"
"Best not'ta, lass. Adal le' me down." He gave two gold pieces and told Jannet to keep the change, which would be a piece and a half, and use it for food and water. She smiled at him with a polite thank you before moving along the bar to serve another patron.
Quentin ran a hand back and forth through his hair as he tried to think of how he'd get the money for the rent, but his mind and eye kept drifting toward the stairs and Faaria. Surely, she wouldn't have to do that for much longer. He took a long drink of the watered-down mead and groaned with distaste as he put the pewter pitcher back on the sticky, unpolished wood of the bar. "Shit."