A Marnian Welcome

[Renee Raialagos]

Here she was now, in this den of ... something, she was sure. A den of something, whatever it could be, in a basement in the residential district. She took in all the sights. The oddly colored dwarf behind the bar, the smoke that rising from the drink he was pouring, the reflections of light in metal and glass, all the people. The many boisterous laughs and shouts blended together to a loud mishmash of sound. Lower sounds of a string instrument and a singing voice trying in vain to make themselves heard.

She looked in the direction where she though the music came from. A shabby looking man sat in a shady corner, half hidden behind one of the drapes deeper inside the place. He was playing on a lute and somebody was singing. None of the guests seemed to pay attention. Whatever people were doing there in the back of the place wasn’t possible to see from where she sat.

Her curiosity was piqued but she stayed where she was. Renee was of course intending to behave like a proper pyradine titre of Marn. But it would be a lie to say the unexpected eccentricity of the place didn’t speak to her. There were so many people here too, defying the curfew in favor of what this place offered. It must be something special!

It was in the residential district though. It surprised her. The city guard used to patrol this part of the city frequently and keep it very safe and calm. She watched while Brokk spoke with the sturdy dwarf behind the counter. Did he have a license for this place? Or was it a speakeasy?

Razzia ... She tried to suppress the thought, but didn’t succeed. Seized by nervous imagination she scanned the place in search of hiding places and escape routes if the worst would happen. Normally it wouldn’t have occurred to her. But the events of the evening so far had made her start to expect all kinds of crap.

Brokk was on her way back slowly making her way through the crowd, and for a moment Renee forgot her worries. A drink was what she needed. Looking past Brokk to the counter she could see the dwarf mix something. There was a sound like a small explosion and a cloud of smoke. Right after this the short man poured up whatever it was in a couple of goblets and started walking after Brokk. In his case people quickly moved to the side to allow him to pass, so right after Brokk had taken a seat he was already there and put the goblets on the table.

Renee looked at the smoke. She had wanted a stiff drink ... but this drink was looking far stiffer than anything she had imagined.

“Nice to see a new face here” said the dwarf heartily. “And a lil friend of Brokk’s too. I’m Javier, miss ...”

His manners were a bit forward to say the least. But what else could be expected. “Renee ...” she started to introduce herself. But she stopped there. It seemed enough. “And this is ...” she pointed at the interestingly smoking drink in front of her.

[Brokk]

Ren smiled and turned to head back towards Renee. Fetching things for Javier was always risky and yet somehow tedious once you got over the immediate fear of explosions. Still, she needed to make a good impression and that came at a price, so she swallowed her pride as she often did. Javier was a steady, if unusual, customer though, so it wasn't all bad.

Spotting Renee sitting stiffly and trying to Simultaneously look at everything and not touch anything, she resisted the urge to laugh. The crowd could be eclectic, she knew, but they were mostly harmless. Javier ran a tight ship, and he wanted no trouble bringing the attention of the Guard if possible. Hearing the music, she glanced around with a smile, remembering when she'd sampled that particular offering.

Sliding onto her stool, she waited for Javier to pour the drinks, listening as he introduced himself to Renee. Brokk smiled a little wider at her question. The goblets in front of them were one thing, but Javier had other things up his sleeve too.

"These," he said, mirroring Ren's smile, "are Plainsrunner Brandies. Nice bite of fruit and warm without being sweet. Does other stuff too but that's easier to experience than it is to describe."

He pulled out a pressurized cocktail shaker from a shoulder bag and began to open it, placing two shot glasses on the counter.

"These are a gift for Brokk's friend," he said. "Unsettlers. House Specialty. Comes arranged by strength. Since it's your first time, we've gone with a mild Titre to whet your appetite."

The shaker opened with a hiss and a brief crackle, and there was a smell of clear fruit and ionized air. He poured both measures, shielding the mixture from the torchlight, and resealed the shaker, stepping back with a bow.

"Enjoy."

Ren looked at Renee, then picked up her glass, wondering once again whether a drink should be so bright a shade of blue, glow or have sparks fizzing in it.

"Do not sip this."

So saying, she downed her drink in one gulp and immediately gripped the table tightly, eyes burning, as it fizzled and burned its way down her throat. The initial effect was a furnce heat in the stomach and tingling in the extremities that rapidly spread everywhere as everything and everyone suddenly came into very very sharp focus. Just when you were coming to terms with this, the secondary effect kicked in and you were hit by a wave of lemon and tart berries that moved through you slowly, leaving a dreamy, shakey kind of warmth behind while your brain fizzled and raced.

"Thoughts?" Ren asked, when finally she could speak.

[Renee Raialagos]

Plainsrunner Brandies ! Never had she heard about this drink before, but the promise of a nice bite of fruit and warmth, without being too sweet, sounded good. Hearing that these special brandies did “other stuff too” she nearly hesitated, but only briefly.

Normally Renee used to keep up a decent and quite puradyne style and limit her taste for the eccentric and spectacular to imaginative clothing. But nothing was normal tonight. In comparison with all the deviations from everyday decency she already had experienced, it came off as harmless fun to test new interesting drinks in a basement tavern. Take her new betrothal to The Man From Shim for example. Trying out what “other stuff” the plainsrunner brandy would do seemed like a small risk in comparison to the prospect of marrying Constable Quirke.

She was about to take her goblet and sip ... when the dwarf pulled out two shot glasses and started at amazing mixing procedure that exceeded anything she had seen before. Unsettles. Yet another unknown, but charmingly exotic surprise. This seemed to be stronger stuff, but as she had mentally crossed the line, the step to accepting the addition short was short. The crackling sound and the interesting smell just added to the temptation, as did the odd blue color and the sparks fizzing in it.

When Brokk said : “Do not sip this! “ and grabbed her glass, Renee followed the example nearly simultaneously. She too downed her drink in one gulp. What happened after this wasn’t totally clear to her, but it felt like she had swallowed an unstoppable ball of fire that made it’s way down her innards at high speed.

Instantaneously, it took over her mind and body completely and she seemed to not see, hear or feel anything else than the heat that burned in her stomach and spread out rapidly to every part of her body. After the temporary feeling of going down,the sensation turned back like a boomerang, and she woke up to a rare state of clarity where everything and everyone suddenly came into extremely sharp focus. Astonished, she noticed that she could see every stitch in the flamboyant embroidery on a dark blue drape nearby, and hear every separate voice in the noise of voices and exactly what each guest said.

Well, well, well ... some tasty gossip there indeed! And about descendants and secret upper class orgies too. Amazing how people can ramble in public once they have had a glass or two.

However, before Renee had the opportunity to hear the ends of the myriad of tales she had started to follow in parallel, an odd and sharp taste sensation overrode it all and it felt like an ocean of lemon and tart berries rolled in over her and drenched her and closed over her head. She entered at dreamy underwater kind of state and, fluttering softly like water plants in moving water, and her head felt full of frantic bubbles.

"Thoughts?" Brokk asked. The saleswoman’s voice reached Renee like a voice heard in a dream. Whether this really was the case, or if it was just how Renee perceived it didn’t seem important.

“Thoughts? Yes thoughts! Indeed! I have many thoughts” said Renee. Her natural tendency to be lecturing kicked in. “This drink is so relaxing isn’t it? It feels like it’s the first time this evening I’m able to think clearly. Finally. With all the meetings we had tonight, with guards and naked strangers and so. You know. It made it nearly impossible to think. But now everything is falling in place nicely, and it all make sense. It’s all clear to me now. It was the pie! That constable. Karris. He’s in love with you, although he does his best to conceal it. He seems to be stalking you, the way he found reasons to come back to you over and over again. I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes after you here to court you more. It’s so ... ”

Noticing that people at the tables nearby were now turning their heads to look at her, she realized she had spoken in a quite loud voice.
“... romantic! “ she finished the sentence. It seemed best so.

While she reached for the goblet she leaned closer to Brokk and whispered : “Besides. What's happening in the back of this place. Behind that drape. Where the musician is playing. Are they gambling?”

[Brokk]

She smiled, tilting her head to one side as the taste of the drink fizzled through her and Renee rambled on. She felt a giggle bubbling up inside her, and she let it loose, putting a hand to her forehead in an effort to steady the room. Javier's wares could have that effect on a person, she knew from experience, and one had to learn to ride the high to get the most out of it. Still, the rush could be quite intoxicating, and Renee was clearly in its throes. Ren herself was fond of the drinks as a font of inspiration on dark days, and more than a few notions swirled around her head as the giggles subsided and she glanced at Renee through the curtain of her hair.

"I think you may be misreading things," she said, her voice throatier from the alcohol, "he's just suspicious by nature. On a slow news day, you can be sure I have something going on. Nonsense of course, but boys will be boys."

She waved away the notion as though it were absurd, laughing again for the benefit of the crowd watching Renee's display. Leaning back, she followed Renee's gaze to the secluded area behind the drape and felt her eyebrows quirk upwards in spite of herself. That was a rather more in depth kind of experience than she thought Renee could handle just yet. Still, she had asked, so Ren turned back, lifting her goblet of brandy and feeling the spiced fruit smell creep over her senses.

"They are sampling a different ware," she said, "drinks and smoke to charge the brain and relax the body, and then the music is added, with a little magic to help it along. They say you can taste the music."

[Renee Raialagos]

Renee was baffled. How could things like these be going on in a basement bar in the residential district?

It wasn’t like she was shocked about it; she was on the eccentric side of life and not so easily upset by oddities and deviations from the proper puradyne marnian standards. Her attraction to everything outside mainstream and her lack of moral indignation about it was in fact a constant trouble for her. She could seem prim and prudish when she did her best to compensate for this embarrassing and potentially evil flaw.

She blamed it on the elven ancestry she feared and worried about. Her mother had broken the news about her biological father to her when Renee was already over thirty and well established as entertaining odd woman out with a shop full of matching wares. This was already a fact, and although she could see now that it was possibly an effect of the half elven blood she would rather not have had, there was no way back. She would go on with business as usual. She would continue to let her imaginative and flamboyant clothes and her generally original style draw the attention from herself and her more and more amazingly well preserved looks.

Beneath the dreamy state she was in, her thoughts were racing. What the ... was going on behind that drape ? Drinks and smoke to “charge” the brain? “Taste” the music? The shot she had downed and the drink she was sipping at right now had seemed to be innovative enough, for marnian standards. She already had a troublesome feeling of being guilty of crossing lines she shouldn’t cross. Or to be more correct, it was a pleasant feeling of defying the boring lines of common propriety, which made her feel torn between being horrified and content. What remained of her common sense told her to not continue further down the bad road she seemed to be on now, as she was a thirty-six years old shop owner who ought to abstain from follies in favor of propriety and reputation. But curiosity and temptation told her to continue. Why not, as she was thirty-six years old and way more able to deal with things than people used to realize? Besides, wasn’t it high time for fun follies? Who could know what the future would bring, with all the complications she was facing ...

Her inner debate continued, while against better judgement she drank more plainsrunner brandy and felt the voice of sense go weaker by the minute. But she resisted the temptation to immediately find out the secrets of the mysterious drape. For now. She would - maybe, only maybe - come back about the fascinating but vague things she had been told were going in the back of the location. Perhaps she wouldn't come back to that at all. Well, perhaps she would, later. Or ... anyways ... hmmm ...

“I've never heard about Javier’s before” she said. “I've been living here in the residential district of Marn my whole life, but never knew this place existed. I guess it must be new? When did it open?”

[Brokk]

Renee seemed to mull this information over for a bit, her posture moving back and forth in time with her line of thought. It was fascinating to watch, which was part of the problem: with the drinks here one could spend hours enthralled by the majesty of one's knuckles and forget boring, everyday things like eating. Taking another sip of brandy, she listened to Renee's question, mulling over the answer.

"And how much of Marn have you really seen? I can't say that it ever really 'opened', as such," she said, her accent in full effect, "it's always been around in one form or another."

She leaned back, swirling her drink and trying desperately to claw the information into coherence. It wasn't that she didn't know, but the way her brain was fizzling was sending all of the information in search of other interesting information and it didn't really want to come back.

"He was in the industrial district first," she said, "years ago, easier access to chemicals and imports from Eyropa. Drew in a decent crowd too, but that wasn't where the money was. So he moved shop."

She took another sip, shivering at the bite.

"He draws in the wealthy crowd here," she continued, "but he has to own a few places. The bar has a tendency to spontaneously combust."

[Renee Raialagos]

”Combust!” said Renee dreamingly as she took yet another sip of the brandy. “Go figure!”

A relaxed smile played on her lips and expression on her face and in her gaze was somewhat absent. The evening has started badly and derailed from there, but now everything had taken a turn to the better. The atmosphere around her was soft like woolen padding and soothing as a warm bath.

She was aware that this was an effect of the drinks. It was also what she had wanted. A really, really stiff drink to put a sheltering foggy barrier between her and her troubles.

It struck her that she ought to know more about Marn than Brokk did. Renee was a titre after all. “I’m born and raised in Marn and have been living here my whole life” she said, not without pride. “ Oh. So it’s that Javier, from the Industrial District. Just didn’t know it had moved here. I guess I can’t be bothered to keep track of this kind of businesses. So ... anyways ... why does it... combust ... ”

Even to herself her voice came off as distant. The sentence faded out, unfinished, and an uncertain period of time passed. Renee thought hard. Despite this it felt difficult to get the big picture together. “Why ...” she repeated slowly and with exaggerated accurracy “ ... does this place ... combust spontaneously ?”

[Brokk]

"Easy, Miss Renee," she said, noticing the growing gaps in Renee's speech, "I'm good, but I can't carry you home."

Smiling, she wondered whether now would be a good time to expand on one or more ideas. The part of her mind that was happily swimming in the alcohol said yes, but she knew better. While Renee might have been a little more pliable in this state, she would gain more points for playing the role of comrade than saleswoman. Patience was the key, no matter how much she may have hated the word, and she sipped her drink, nodding politely at Renee's half-hearted rebuttal of her assertion that there were parts of the city that she hadn't seen. The sad part was that many of Marn's citizens would likely grow up ignorant of all those little dark nooks and crannies that made their home so very, very interesting. It was the nature of people. She'd discovered that for herself when she'd set out,and it had been quite an awakening.

"Oh," she said, waving as though it were of no concern, "there are a number of reasons. All terribly boring."

Not for those involved, of course, but chemical interactions and mortal idiocy were hardly the most interesting of explanations. Still, Renee's question did require some kind of proper response, so she sipped her drink again, putting her thoughts in order.

"Keeping up with demand, demands a willingness to take risks," she said, dreamily, "to dare, to experiment. Not every experiment is a success and not every failure is a bad thing,but when you mix the kinds of delicacies that are on offer here, well, the results can be rather spectacular to behold."

Which was far too true. The only reason that the guard hadn't been involved more was because a) Javier had reinforced, soundproofed and fire-proofed these establishments and 2)they all got at least one free drink here to keep them sweet. It was a positively medieval system, really, but it kept the peace and kept everyone in business.

"Never boring though," she said, "and the results are always entertaining."

[Renee Raialagos]

When Brokk started to speak about supply and demand, Renee’s sense of business kicked in.

“I see” she said. “There’s always risks, but it you want to gain something you need to dare. Let’s get down to business.” She didn’t need more alcohol, but was already too inebriated to realize this, so she took a new sip of her plainsrunner brandy and went a little bit more dizzy. It didn’t bother her. It would perhaps bother her next day, but this wasn’t on her mind right now.

“That naked burglar sure had a weird skin disease ...” Renee shook her head. No. This wasn’t what she had been planning to say. Anyways. What had she been planning to say ... for a moment it eluded her and she just sat, smiled at Brokk and prattled a lot of nonsense like she had become so talkative that she just couldn’t stop herself. The lecture she delivered was unusually long even for her.

Finally she seemed out of babble and suddenly she uttered a few lines that actually seemed to make sense. “I was thinking that we need to speak more about business and what we could do together with the things you were about to show me when we were interrupted. Oh crap ... all your wares are still in my shop, but let’s hope the guard takes it for granted that it’s part of my standard assortment. They might very well be, patriotic tunics are after all ... very patriotic. “

At this point she felt clueless. She had digressed from the main topic. “What I meant was that we need to speak more about the tunics. And other things. And where they come from. I must make sure it’s not illegal ... exactly ... and ...”

She shook her head again and had an illusion of this making her think better. “But first. What can we do if this place explodes tonight, when we are here?”

[Brokk]

Ren sipped her drink, feeling the happy alcoholic haze drift a little closer around her, but still she had time to enjoy Renee's slurred speech, raising her eyebrows slightly. So much for taking the time to relax then, it seemed, even if Renee wasn't entirely in a position to elucidate on her points. She sighed, leaning back slightly and gripping the table for support as the room swayed rather suddenly. Skin disease? She pondered that one as she let the room settle.

"He wasn't diseased," she said, slowly, smiling, "he was a shifter, Renee. That may be how he disappeared."

She rested her chin on her goblet for a moment, her hair falling forwards and obscuring her view of her companion. His being a shifter did put a different pall on some things. That was how he'd tracked her down. It was a worrying thought, and one that would need to be dealt with in due time. Still, now that she knew, it would be easier to prepare for him in the future. It wasn't a perfect state of affairs, but it was better than nothing. Now if they could only find some way to get Karris and Quirke off their backs and they'd be sorted. Still, one thing at a time. Renee had her questions and Ren had to answer them.

"All we can do," Ren said, "is stay low and get behind the nearest column. Once the blast passes, we can get out then."

She glanced around.

"I wouldn't worry about it," she said, shivering slightly, "this place is much more sturdy than the bar I used to own. We should be fine."

She leaned forwards, gripping the goblet in both hands.

"The tunics are a solid investment," she said, "the fabric itself is the prize and that's just a matter of getting the resources together."

[Renee Raialagos]

"A shifter?" Normally she would have been more upset and worried. Bur Renee was only mildly surprised, due to the soothing drinks.

She watched Brokk rest her chin on her goblet for a moment, and tried in vain to see the woman’s expression through the hair that was falling forwards and obscured the view of her face. She wasn’t sure if this meant Brokk was thinking of something or if it just meant she was drunk. Renee held on to her goblet and pondered the news that the intruder in her shop was a shifter. Was that the reason why he had jumped right through the window and cut himself on the broken glass? She tried to think of an animal that might act like that but it was hard to come up with something. A boar maybe? Boars were strong and they were said to attack rashly and without caring about if it hurt them a bit. Tough animals. She could easily imagine a boar rushing through a pane of glass. A boar shifter? The thought baffled her. She felt a bit scared too.

“I have heard of shifters. But it’s magic isn’t it. The shifting. Illegal magic.” The alcohol kept her from shuddering. She looked around, suddenly hoping nobody heard them. But it didn’t seem like anybody was paying attention to her and Brokk. The other guests were as inebriated as they were. Lot’s of people were speaking and laughing. Somewhat groggily she assumed their own conversation blended with the blur of other drunken speech that surrounded them.

She listened to Brokk’s instructions for how to survive a blast. Stay low and get behind the nearest column. Not worry. Sturdy place. Once the blast passes, get out. Seemed simple. Just like the tunics. A solid investment. Fabric. Just a matter of getting the resources together. So uncomplicated. What could go wrong?

“The fabric intrigues me ... memory cloth, was it? And ... easy clean cloth? Let's speak about the easy clean ... “

A muted bang was heard, followed by some muted swearing. A distinctive odor started to spread in the air. It broke through the fog of her inebriated mind and she wrinkled her nose. Renee sniffed nervously at the air. And then she spotted something burning. It actually seemed like the cloth the waiter had been wiping a table nearby with had caught fire. Some people started to rise from their chairs.

[Brokk]

The words weren't quite making sense now, something Brokk blamed on the alcohol and Renee's excessive consumption of it, because she was perfectly fine. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to brush the hair out of her eyes as Renee's words began to filter into her foggy mind and run around in circles rather than running in sentences. Shifting was ill? Lethal? Ill...lethal. No, that wasn't right, was it? Illegal! That was it! No, it wasn't illlegal surely? It was frowned upon, and one had to register, but not illegal. Was it? Ren frowned, trying to force the words into a manageable form. Shifters were dangerous, but shifting was a natural kind of magic and banning it was akin to banning gnomes and elves for being themselves, wasn't it? That wasn't what Marn was about, was it? No, no, it couldn't have been.

"No, it's only frowned upon," she said, "and only if they shift into something dangerous. Mostly, if they stay in person form they're fine."

She opened her mouth to say more, her tongue feeling thick and unwieldy all of a sudden, when Renee over-rode her to ask about the fabrics. That was fine, it was business and Ren loved buusiness; it was in her blood, after all. Her whole life she'd dreamed of going into business like her father and she worked hard to make him proud, even if he didn't always understand that. Or it didn't go right. Or a magic rabbit with supernatural strength went on a rampage and tore down government buildings. She meant well, and surely that had to count for something? The fabrics were a solid investment, they just...needed testing, that was all. She was certain that, with the right backing, Pasqual could nail the formula down and everything would be fine. Of course it would, how could it be any different?

She opened her mouth to respond, when a bang echoed around the confines of the bar, followed swiftly by panicked murmuring and a sense of danger. She could smell the burning, and it triggered something primal in her mind. The door beckoned, but she couldn't abandon Renee; if she abandoned Renee she'd lose the deal, if she lost the deal Pasqual lost the funding and if he lost the funding they lost the best damned idea they'd had in years. No, she had to stay and be brave to show Renee that a little whiff of danger wasn't something to run from.

"It'll be fine," she said, "relax. Watch."

Javier appeared in a heartbeat, reaching into a box that hissed dry ice fumes when opened and pulling out a ball of something and tossing it at the offending table with efficient grace. The burst with a hollow puff and a hail of smoke and white powder, extinguishing the cloth and table effectively. A cheer started somewhere, but Javier put a stop to it with a raised hand, eyes focused on the table lest it ignite again.

"See? What did I tell you?"

[Renee Raialagos]

“That cloth caught fire” Renee remarked dizzily. For a few minutes it seemed like there was something she needed to recall and think of, but as her memory was blank she dismissed the feeling, and then forgot it completely.

The fire had been extinguished like it was mere routine. Hadn’t it? Well ...
Renee was trying to follow Brokks reasoning and take in the information, but it felt like her mind was swimming in a fog that made it night impossible to get things together. She looked down at the plainsrunner brandy. My. Her goblet was nearly empty. Whatever it was in this drink, it was stiff. Despite her inebriated state she was still able to figure out the connection between the brandy and the way everything seemed to waver around her.

So.

Would she drink the last sip of bandy that awaited her there down on the bottom of the goblet, or would she not? This question was a hard one. She contemplated it for an uncertain amount of time, forgot it for a while, but managed to recall it again, and settled for drinking it.

Or course she would! What else?

She lifted the goblet, slowly, when one of the people who were returning to the no longer burning table stumbled drunkenly and bumped into her so hard that she dropped the goblet and spilled the remainder of the brandy on the skirt of her dress. A dark blotch spread on the mustard colored fabric. It really shocked her! Even in her dizzy state of mind she payed attention to her appearance. This was always one of the tings on top of her mind, and alcohol didn’t change it. The opposite. It made her show her concern more blatantly than she ever did when she was sober.

She stumbled up, utterly upset, and vented her anger at the bypasser who had caused the blotch like she thought he had done it on purpose. Afterwards she would only recall it vaguely, but she would feel pretty sure she had used words like “clumsy goof” and other not so flattering expressions. The man bawled back, and nobody seemed inclined to try to stop the escalating argument. Renee for one had lost all normal common sense due to too much alcohol. She started at a long and circumstantial lecture, aiming at teaching her opponent a lesson. When he tried to say something she raised her voice and steamrolled over him. She didn’t care that this seemed to rile him up increasingly.

In the nick of time the staff of the place grabbed the man and pushed him down on his chair so he couldn’t start to mindlessly beat up another customer. There they held him while he swore and raged and waved his fists impotently. Renee was asked to please leave at once. She didn’t react at first, but somebody took her firmly by the arm and started to drag her towards the door, saying something about “time to go home”. Confused after the aggressive debate, Renee felt totally blank at first and wondered who the gangly woman was. But then it dawned on her. It was Brokk ! Her best friend in this place, maybe in the whole world. Brokk was saving her from that horrible man! Tears of drunken sentimentality and gratefulness rose in Renee’s eyes as she declared her undying friendship.

When she was done with this tirade, she felt tired. “I want to go home now”.

She was still on her feet and would be able to stumble home if supported.

[Brokk]

Alright , this was starting to get a bit out of hand, but that was alright; she could fix this! It had all been going so well too! The fire was in hand, and Javier was heading back to pour more drinks, people seemed to be settling down, and the overall feeling seemed to be positive. Of course, she should have known that it wouldn't last, but here she was, ever the optimist, and willing to give the future that one extra chance to surprise her. She always It would work out eventually, no matter what the mounting evidence to the contrary had to say. So she'd raised her glass in the anticipation of a happy toast and then things had gone south almost too quickly for her inebriated mind to keep track of.

Renee had risen like a champion, picking up her drink and intent on finishing it, when another, equally jubilant patron bumped into her, causing her to drop her drink on her dress. This, in itself, was not that unusual a thing to happen; she'd done the same herself while sober, but Renee stared at the blossoming stain with a hatred that bordered on the homicidal. That must have been her favourite dress then, Ren thought, why else would she react so to a small stain? But then, she wasn't an outdoorsy kind of saleswoman either, was she? No she was more the city dwelling indoor type, so she probably wouldn't be used to it. So absorbed by this train of thought was she, that she hadn't noticed Renee getting up until it was already done.

Hearing the argument break out, she started and downed her drink, feeling that they may have outstayed their welcome. Whatever Renee was trying to say was getting lost behind a fog of alcohol and all the other man seemed to see was an increasingly irate woman that he couldn't calm down. He raised his voice, so she raised hers, while Ren was trying to make it to Renee through a crowd of chairs and spectators before things got ugly. She could see the bouncers barging in and quickly made a grab for Renee, latching both arms around the other woman's chest and pulling with all her might. It took two tries, but Renee finally noticed her, and turned, tears in her eyes.

"Yes," she said, "of course you do. Of course we are. Come on, let's go."

She waved the bouncer off, half supporting, half dragging Renee towards the door. Her head was spinning, but she still saw JAvier making meaningful eye contact with her. That debt still needed paying, didn't it? Damn it. The bouncers were still watching, but they made it to the blessed freedom of the open air, and Ren gasped it down like a drowning woman reaching dry land. Casting about t oget her bearings, she threw Renee's arm around her neck and set out for her home.

[Renee Raialagos]

== THE NEXT MORNING ==

Renee woke up next morning in her small house with headache and a bunch of troublesome memories, but also with the good memory of her newfound friend and business partner, Brokk. She stumbled up, donned a simple gardening dress and made coffee.
With a cup full of the dark brew she went to sit on the stairs right outside the front door. It was only three steps, and it was nearly like sitting on the ground. The lilac hedges were still full of white flowers and the fragrance was sweet and pleasant. The silence in the garden was only broken by the of leaves in the wind, birdsong and the low buzzing of insects in the foliage and grass.

The sudden engagement to marry Constable Quirke. The robbery. The new business opportunities together with Brokk. She would deal with it all. Just not right now. There were a lot of drawbacks with being half elf, in Renee’s opinion. But there was one pro. Time. Her lifespan was long. She had time to just sit there and drink her coffee and think.

She shut her eyes. Thought back on everything that had happened. Felt the morning sun on her face. Yesterday had been long and weird, and in hindsight the memories seemed surreal. This was perhaps due to the drinks at the end. She recalled how she had stumbled home, leaning on Brokk, or maybe the other way around, or both. After this her memory went blank. But as she had woken up in her bed as usual, she assumed she must just have entered the house and went to bed.

Anyways.
Yesterday was gone.
She was in her garden, alone.