The cold weather followed Dem as he walked into The Prancing Pony. He insides churned with conflicting emotions. The only reason he returned to Bree was because his mom might be dead soon. Hope existed, but he wouldn't let himself hope until certainty existed. On the other side, Bree, the place of his birth, didn't close the gates to him. That amused him. He no longer looked like that fourteen year old they shoved out slamming the gates behind him. He no longer stole petty items from petty people. But he still stole things, frequently, only on a different scale.
Dem walked to the counter and ordered his usual. Whiskey. The one true love of his life. And something he decided he would never give up, no matter what. If mom died too, so would he. He listened to the gossip, rumors and small chit chat, while numbing his brain with the burn running down his throat. Might find something worth selling before he was beyond the capability of coherent thoughts.
Siofran walked into the bar and he watched her walk to the pole she normally leaned against. Like most who came into the inn, he knew all about her, even if they had never spoke. He gathered information, part of his living, the knowledge of others kept him fed and in plenty of whiskey. The men of Bree called her different names. Ice Heart. Frigid. Stone Heart. Ball Breaker. A challenge he thought.
She must have felt his eyes on her for she turned her icy stare onto him. Unlike the men of Bree, Dem did not look away. Her eyes softened, her gaze now one of evaluation. Found the chink in her armor, he thought and smiled.
“Evening miss.” Dem smiled and looked around the room, feigning true interest. Then returned his eyes to hers. “Busy night.”
“You from Bree?”
“Born and mostly raised here. Went to Rohan as a hired sword. You know earn money to buy a nice farm. You?”
“Aye.”
Still short answers, the chink found now he must widen it. “You want a drink?”
“What the heck, tea.”
Dem raised his eyebrows but bought her a tea. “Don't drink, eh?”
“Like to keep my wits about me.”
Dem nodded and sipped his whiskey. He remained quiet.
“What brings you back to Bree?”
“My mom is sick.” Dem shrugged, he really didn't wish to talk of it with her. And yet he knew a caring son was always a lure to women.
“So...You came home to help until she is better?”
“Something like that.”
The conversation opened after that. Siofran chatted with ease. Dem knew she took the bait, and it was only a matter of time before he reeled her in, his mind planned the night it would happen, not really paying attention to the words. She was a game, a toy, and he really didn't care if he hurt her.
When she left the inn that night, Dem found himself not caring if he'd won. After all, he had his true love in his hand and the numbness she gave him was climaxing in his brain. Soon he would forget everything and everyone for another night. Sleep in oblivion. Hopefully, passed out in his bed, but even if it was on a bench or floor, he didn't care.
