The room was dimly lit and had dark paneled walls and floors; it reeked of stale booze and tobacco smoke, but it was clean for the most part. The man sat down at the farthest stool with his back pressed to the wall as those in his position often did making sure that no one could come at them from the back and finish them off the way many had tried to do before. He surveyed the room while the elderly barkeep ambled towards him. The building, much like everything in it, was timeworn; it had a few tables scattered about and a dusty bar lined with six barstools including the one he currently occupied and a fire place burning apple wood. There were five others in the bar: the barkeep, three men rolling dice, and a woman who was at the other end of the bar drinking a dark burgundy beverage with a look of deep concentration and depression on her face as she attempted to figure out whatever it was that puzzled her. The barkeep finally reached the man and asked in a voice full of gravel what’d he’d be having.
“Whatever’s cold.” The old man nodded as he walked away to procure the requested brew. The man pulled out a pipe, lighting it, and taking a drag all under the guise of a man at leisure, but the man was impatient and wanted to be out of the little town and the surrounding area. The mirror on the wall reflected his image with agitated grey eyes and unruly black hair that seemed to be sitting on edge just as he was; he’d always hated these kinds of towns. In the mirror he watched the woman with sad and bizarre yellow eyes as she continued to wallow in misery. As always, the man felt a certain longing to figure out the puzzle before him, but personal problems were never very interesting he reflected as people’s problems typically were as shallow as the person themself. He watched as she pulled on her drink and signaled for another. Another young girl came out from the back, at the same time his drink was supplied, with a piece of paper and handed it off to the blonde at the end. “Another message to deliver, Andra.”
“Thank you, Daina.”
He studied the girl from the back, Daina, as she passed; she was young barely 18 with blood red curls and sky blue eyes. Daina noticed his look and smiled.
“I wonder is it considered normal to stare where you come from Mr…?”
“Alastar, Cormac Alastar, and I find it is impossible to keep my gaze off all of the lovely women who inhabit this country.” Daina giggled girlishly casting a look at the other woman, Andra.
“Daina, darling do you remember our dear friend Breandan?”
At the man’s name Daina sobered instantly. “Of course mistress.”
"I want my horse brought round and quickly."
"You are leaving tonight?"
"I need this to be over with Daina. I trust I'll see you when I return?"
"Of course, madam." Daina curtsied and walked back in the direction from which she came.
"Mr. Alastar, I trust that you will remember that Daina is a young lady much too fragile for the likes of you."
"Too fragile for the likes of me? And what exactly do you mean?"
"I mean that she is not the kind of girl who can keep a wanted man company."
"Wanted? What makes you think I am wanted?"
Andra lifted her golden brow, "You are shifty and watchful, you instantly sat with your back to a wall, and you seem to be just barely able to sit in such an open room. I have known many just like you."
"Meaning you could keep me company?"
"Not at all Mr. Alastar. Not at all."
Cormac smiled watching as she exited the room. He was beginning to like this town.
