A Bullet Or Two

Chapter 6.2

Different from the tavern in Bourgerdown, The White Hare was crammed to the door with drinkers. Gorging pigs, unconscious drunks, and incoherent gamblers spotted the tavern floor. 

The building was about twice the size of Harper's workshop but seemed too small for the number of people squished in. Delilah tucked and curved through the crowd as Jonnie did – careful not to lose sight of the blonde. Ahead, she heard him mutter apologies and paused as he returned shoves to the crowd. Until finally they were at the bar.

"Two shots. Make them strong."

Two glasses were presented on the varnished wood, which was chipped at corners and vandalized by random sketches and words. 

L.K was here. 

Jon shagged Ben's lass. 

Alice is a whore. 

The entire bar was covered. The words left on display by the apathetic barkeep. The locals could do whatever they wanted if it meant he would have their money at the end of the night. It was a seedy place. Truly unruly.

Delilah watched as Jonnie swallowed one shot and grimaced. Then saw as his grimace was replaced by a red face, caused by his coughing. The bar shook as he slammed the glass back down. The other shot remained sitting at the bar, ready for her to take. Taunting and luring her back down a path she had only just escaped. 

But she did not and would not take it.

Her own face matched his, a scowl directed towards the tiny portion of liquid. She remembered that drink the last time they dropped by. A weird combination of gin, shandy, and lemon juice meant for souring the stomachs of the most tolerant of men. Tingles in her throat reminded her of how it had burned as it slithered down. Three after it and numerous pints more had left her confined to her bed for a week only 7 months prior. Trapped in a cycle of thirst, hunger, and vomit.

A seat nearby, perched at the bar, had become free. Jonnie gestured for her to take it before he weaved himself away, past the crowds and out of her sight. 

Delilah shuffled herself towards the seat. Interrupted flirtations between strangers. Bumped into a large man struggling to keep his balance. Then, before anyone else could get it, slumped onto the wooden stall.

It was late. Very late. And Delilah should have been heading home but she wanted to give Jonnie a chance to relax. To uncoil from the constant work he had ever since he collected her from Alder Creek. His leave was cut short.

She drummed her fingers on the bar, unwilling to even look at the shot he had left behind.

Jonnie reappeared at the opposite end of the bar, claiming an unoccupied seat. He lifted his hand to the barkeep, putting his weight onto his forearms. Unraveling as the liquor clambered through his veins. It reminded Delilah of their nights away. The fun ones when they visited local lords and ladies and drank into the dawn. 

Those were the rare jobs she completed during her year away. The only ones for appearance's sake. Baron had forced her. Threatened her place in his house should she embarrass him and make a disgrace of herself. For, of course, she was his legacy, and he could not have that tarnished.

Although forced to go, those nights away were a blessing. Leaving the house made her heart tighten. Worry gripped her more than any dose of alcohol ever would. But then, as the carriage would hum along the road, she relaxed and enjoyed the brief freedom the jobs gave her. The distraction from her tormenting thoughts.

Jonnie flipped his head back, a shot glass to his lips. The liquid glinted in the light before it was gone. Delilah stayed watching. Lonely and sober. Baron's punishment for her every time she messed up. Isolation and detox. If he knew where she was now...her cheek stung at the thought, almost as much as the constant ache of her leg. 

How ironic it was that Jonnie had purchased a drink for her. The very man was meant to stop her. Paid extra to keep her sober. A bit more to stop her impulses. But there he was, disheveled and drunker than she.

Jonnie raised his hand yet again. A fourth shot plonked on the unvarnished surface. Then disappeared entirely from Delilah's sight when a woman appeared next to her.

"You a pretty one."

Nothing like Harper. Or Charlotte. Or any lady she often came across at gatherings. No, they all were too prim for a dump like this. This woman was much worse for wear - high society the furthest place she would be. A couple of teeth were missing, her breasts sagged out of the flimsy pink dress, and her confidence was too high for her own good. 

She tapped her fingers up Delilah's arm before the latter jolted away. Said some words Delilah did not hear. "Excuse me." She could not move since the woman crammed into the bar exactly where Delilah had perched her stick. "I say. You pretty enough to be one of ma gals. No need to get involved in this fightin' back nonsense." Pungent lemon puffed into Delilah's face from the woman's mouth inches away. 

 Were she not used to unsavory interactions Delilah would have recoiled. With better judgment, she declined. Reassured the lady she already had work and waved her off along with the shot Jonnie had brought. 

Delilah needed to return to the townhouse. Any longer there and she would have to stay. Something she without a doubt was opposed to. Woods Alley was the last place she could sleep. The last place she would want to be left unattended and free from the sweet bliss of a drunken stupor to lure her into unconsciousness and away from the chaos of that place.

On previous jobs, they had visited taverns but none crowded like this. It was so easy to lose Jonnie amongst the drinkers. When the woman had gone, so had he. His structured frame disappeared from her sight. 

And Delilah was left entirely online at the bar when the shouting began.