What's the word I'm looking for here...

...Disgust?

I mean, sure; that'd suffice. But I think I'm looking for something a bit higher on the scale.

...Horror, then?

Yeah, that'll work.

I stared on in utter horror as the strange blond woman picked up the sandwich and shoved the entire thing into her mouth. Pretty sure that if she could've unhinged her jaw to make it all fit, then she would've done just that. It was a wonder that she didn't suffocate on the damn thing while she slowly worked at it, grinding it into a pulp that she could actually force down her gullet. I was kind of half-expecting a comical bulge traveling the length of her neck as she finished her food.

Meanwhile, there I sat, taking reasonable bites, chewing the recommended twenty-six times before swallowing, and washing the taste of lunch meat off my tongue with a swig of ale. No mess, no strangeness, no chance of dying again, no odd looks from the barkeep that weren't related to my "skin condition".

"Another one, please," I asked the man, raising my empty glass in the air. I had a feeling I was going to need many more if I was going to get through the night.

The girl with the sword began to tell her tale, which was disappointingly short. Picking up on the words she chose and their meaning, it didn't take someone as well-read and into the strange and mysterious as myself to put two and two together. The likely answer? She was a weapon possessed, or one that was enchanted with the essence of life. Or, to be more accurate, she was a puppet used by the sword to move around from place to place. It was not unheard of; I had a few books squirreled away that whispered of such blades existing. Never thought I'd come across one, despite the high density of Weird Shit that walked this planet. I mean, I'm a walking anger cactus that was killed for a bit by her best friend, the ticking soul bomb, for crying out loud.

Normally I would've just nodded, happy for the droning of another living being to help drown out the downpour outside. But in the case of this girl--sword, whatever--my curiosity was piqued. You never know when you're going to come across another opportunity like this.

The barkeep approached our table and set a fresh ale in front of me. "Thanks," I said with a nod before I turned to face the blond. "I'll admit, I've studied some very dark and mysterious things in my day. I feel like I have an idea what you might be, but I won't say it. It's not my business, anyway. But usually, when something like yourself appears in the world, it's with a specific purpose in mind by the gods, or whoever kicked you our way."

An unreadable amber light flickered in my eyes. I was hungry for answers, my curiosity unwilling to be easily sated. "Can you think of anything at all? Anything in your memories, or in your memories?" Implying that the two might be separate--something imprinted in the girl's mind, or in the sword's spirit.