The Tales of Flesh and Blood

Pasta And Port

"Relax, Tria. You have hardly touched your food."

"Yeah, well, you've hardly told me why you've dragged me all the way out here."

Frenice paused in his meal - some weird pasta dish with really thick noodles and a strange type of white sauce - and glanced up at me. He gestured to my plate, which was the same thing as his, although I didn't know what it was called. He had asked for a table in one of the restaurant's corners, but I knew he did it more for privacy than to help ease my nerves from everyone else's stares. I didn't belong here.

"I want you to eat, first."

I raised my chin, glaring at him dead in the eye. "Why am I here?"

He sighed, raised a napkin to dab at his lips, and rested it in his lap.

"You are relentless, are you not?"

"We almost got involved in a car chase and then you pointed a gun at me," I leaned back in my chair. "I think I have a pretty damn good reason to be pissed."

Frenice gave me a confused smile.

"But you have seen those things before."

I leaned forward on the table.

"Yeah, but it was never directed at me. I've had some fights, sure. Sometimes there's a knife. But I have never been involved in something like that."

"Hmm. Very well, then." Frenice frowned. "I need information."

Yeah, you've said that already. But I wasn't sure if I was willing enough to give it to him. I shook my head.

"Perhaps I should mention that I've never faced those scenarios because I don't talk?"

This time, Frenice shook his head. "No, Tria," he said gravely. "You've never dealt with that because no one cares enough to ask you for information - no one powerful enough, at least. If they did, they would have tortured and quite possibly killed you by now."

Yikes. Taken aback, I tried to open my mouth to disagree (though at that point I would have been bluffing), but Frenice waved a hand to cut me off.

"I am not looking for anyone that you fear. This is about your mother - and not the pretty young woman you live with."

"My . . . what?" I gave him an incredulous look. "You brought me all the way out here to ask about her?"

He remained unfazed. I couldn't help but laugh about the ridiculousness of it all.

"You know, all of this," I gestured to our surroundings, "was unnecessary. I could have told you about her from the apartment."

Still, he would not reply. I rolled my eyes.

"The woman is dead, if you must know. Died a couple of months ago in some gas explosion at a warehouse."

"Oh?" Frenice raised an eyebrow. "To this, girl, I am going to have to disagree."

I grunted out in response. "Oh well. Agree, disagree, it wouldn't change the fact. Would you like a detailed newspaper going over that? Her death, that is."

"Pardon me, but you don't look like someone who just lost a mother."

"I had no love for her." The words flew past my lips before I could think otherwise - I could hear the venom in them as strongly as I felt the sudden round of bitterness in my chest. "If you know about her, you'd probably know that she wasn't around much. In fact, the last time I had a conversation with her was around my twelfth birthday." I chuckled a bit, then looked at him to clarify, "I'm almost eighteen."