The Bondsman (a King Dice x Reader story)

Chapter Ten: Nabbing a Drink

Song: One For My Baby (and One More For the Road) by Frank Sinatra

     "So let me get this straight, darlin': You asked me to come and nab a drink with you because you were too exhausted to climb the stairs?"

     A guilty smile spread across your lips as you took a sip of wine, the glass clinking against the polished wood of the bar as you set it down.

     "Pretty much," you confessed. Dice shook his head in disbelief, a smirk tugging at his features as he looked you over; inspecting you.

     "And here I thought you just couldn't wait to see me again~"

     Dice had been apprehensive at the beginning of your "side-quest." That you had invited him to drink in the first place was a bit off putting, but, with the world festering in the middle of the prohibition at the moment, he wouldn't have expected you of all folks to know the whereabouts of a local speakeasy...or to have one located so close to your apartment. Yet, you had led him here as if it were second nature, pointing out the places you liked visiting as you meandering past a few buildings along your street, ducking under awnings to avoid the rain. Upon arrival, you had greeted the bouncer and barkeep by name as you entered the rickety old cellar of what looked to be an old butcher shop, not bothering to give a password.

     You apparently didn't need one.

     The layout was simple, dark and drab with the typical plumes of cigar smoke and the sparkle of pearl necklaces, but the music and patrons made it seem almost as lively as the Devil's Casino itself. There was plenty of laughter coming from no corner in particular, a few gents trying to schmooze their way into a date with beautiful women by offering cigarettes, money, or drinks. The bar was pressed up against the leftmost side of the room, giving the barkeep just enough space behind the counter to work. Glasses and shakers were hung on a rack from above, rattling threateningly whenever a car drove by or lightning struck overhead.

     Yes, it was a perfect hooch-house. Cheap rent, discrete location, lots of inexpensive customers wearing overly expensive attire...Dice fit right in.

     You, on the other hand, stuck out like a sore thumb. Your coat was tattered at the ends, and the cuffs of your slacks were muddy and wrinkled. Your hair had finally given way and fallen from its confined style, tumbling gracefully over your shoulder as you pushed it away every once in a while, still damp from the storm outside. Yet, anyone and everyone who saw you greeted you with a wave or hello, as if you were some form of visiting royalty.

     You were a regular, it seemed. And a favorite, at that.

     "So how'd you find out about this place, anyway?" Dice asked, observing his glass. He was curious as to how a woman such as yourself would have stumbled into a joint like this, what with your father being a law-man and all.

     "We busted a case here, once," you said, shrugging your coat off to hang it from the back of the barstool. "There were a few rumrunners smuggling imports into Inkwell from the East, and we tracked 'em back here. We would have shut the operation down entirely, but it turns out that the owner of this place was a good ear to the ground, so we let him stay in business as long as he agreed to be our mirror into the criminal world. Lots of gangsters come through here, you know...it was good to have a mole in place."

     Dice nodded along as you explained.

     "Sounds like you two had the dynamic duo act all figured out," he murmured with a soft smile, the wine bringing a noticeable tinge to his cheeks that you had never noticed before.

     "Yeah," you exhaled, "we really were somethin'..."

     You frowned softly as your sentence trailed off, issuing a similar reaction from the man next to you. Your grip tightened around the neck of your glass, eyes trailing over the grain of the countertop as you became lost in thought. For your sake, Dice decided to change the subject.