The Evergreen Thieves

Long Walks Home

Larkspur

I told you so. Is all Larkspur could think as he watched Sage collapse in the arena. The others in the group had all gone to the stands to get a better view of the fight, watching Sage jump into a tussle recklessly. The Amaryllis supposedly retreated to his office, though Larkspur knew he was lurking in some corner, making sure his precious ghost was okay. Larkspur, however, didn't need to watch the fight to know the outcome.

The poor fool. He thought as he watched the man who Sage had beaten being dragged off to the hospital wing, along with the other fool, Clover. They'd probably all be taken to the Anthurium where Larkspur was a usual. He was a well-known fighter in the ring, he knew when and when not to fight; Also known as, knowing who he could take down and when to run while he still had his money. And even with that knowledge, he'd always land in the hospital wing, the Anthurium.

He headed over to the Snapdragon's tavern, where all the men and women eventually made their way to after the fights. He snatched a seat at the bar, not bothering to order, he grabbed a bottle of gin and poured himself a shot.

"You do realize you're supposed to pay for that?" A man with a dark brown beard with grey overrunning questioned from behind the bar.

"Just add it to my tab, Tarragon." He mumbled, grabbing the bottle once again. "And this."

Larkspur didn't mind one more bill to pay to this forsaken place. He could fight a match tomorrow and win enough earnings to pay it off... Eventually.

Tarragon let out a hearty laugh, slapping Larkspur on the shoulder.

"Maybe you should consider sobering up, ey? You'd probably win a lot more fights that way."

"Nah. I probably win way more with chance on my side. Ya know?"

"No," Tarragon said, bluntly.

"For a guy who works in a tavern, you don't seem very fond of alcohol."

"Oh, I'm fond of the alcohol, just not losing my wits."

"That's where you and I are different pal. I enjoy losing my wits, alcohol is just the weapon of choice." Larkspur flipped a coin, slapping it down on the bar, "For your hospitality."

As he made his exit, he gave a final bow with the fancy wave of a hand then sauntered off into the hordes of people.

The Snapdragon was always filled to the brim with people, whether they were there to play a hand, watch the caged arena fights, or just there to have a good time at the tavern. Everyone there always seemed to either be pissed off or overly happy, plastering expressions on their faces like masks. He tended to blend in with the masked jesters, Larkspur happened to have an excellent poker face and he'd carry that on his way to the Anthurium to check on Sage, possibly supplying her with some proper pain reliever.

When he arrived, Dahlia and a bruised Clover sat by Sage's side. As far as he could tell, she was still unconscious from the fight.

"How long did the nurse say she'd be out?" He asked, plopping down at the foot of Sage's hospital bed and taking a swig of gin.

"Don't sit there," Dahlia said, practically shooing him off the bed.

"It's not like she's tall enough to use it." He argued, raising his hands. "Or conscious enough to say anything..."

"Doesn't mean you sit there like a neanderthal." She chastised him.

He rolled his eyes. They'd always argue like an old married couple, bickering, insulting one another, and calling each other idiotic names.