i slumped on the bar, my head sideways against the wooden table. the stool i sat on was uncomfortable, but comfortable isn't something that comes with being an apex legend. i felt the bartender's presence above me and put my arm up. "one pint please, john." i said in my drunken, slurred voice.
he furrowed his brow, staring down at me and placing his robotic arm on my shoulder. "i think you've had enough, y/n." he spoke, making me look up at him, his face a blurry wave in my eyesight.
"ugh, john, here..." i reached in my pocket and searched for my money, finding none inside. "damnit."
"johnathan!" an icelandic accented voice called from behind me. "ég mun borga fyrir drykkinn hennar." the stranger spoke in a distorted voice.
"fine, but after this drink, you're taking her home." john sighed and turned around, pulling the tap and pouring the fizzing alcohol into a dirty glass.
next to me, i heard cloth rustling and a few jingles, i turned my head left to see the stranger that had payed for my drink: they wore something that resembled a gas mask and a strange hat with charms hanging from it, they also wore a long, brown coat and black cargo pants with metal knee pads above their combat boots. "halló." they spoke in icelandic, i made it out as a greeting, hello.
i scruffily coughed. "hi." i slurred, my mind adrift, just wanting to have my drink. "th-thanks for paying for this." i took a sip of the sparkling substance.
"you're gratitude is graced." they said, even though they wore a mask, i knew they smiled gently at me. "i am blóðhundur, or bloodhound, to you english people."
"well, bloodhound, i gotta say," i spoke with confidence, the alcohol nullifying my worries. "your accent is fucking hot." through the glass circles which housed their eyes, i saw a confused expression play on their brow.
"your slang confuses me." they spoke quietly, a small twitch of their neck shook them.
"i mean your accent and the fact that you're icelandic draws me to you, you sound amazing, beautiful, even." my face was red with blush, a smile playing on my lips.
"oh..." they said, devoid of emotion. "ég hef aldrei verið kallaður svona áður..." their heavenly accent made my brain tingle.
"i don't know what that means, but i love your voice, so much." i raised my glass, realising it was empty.
"i will see you in a moment, johnathan." bloodhound spoke, standing up and practically picking me up from my seat. i wrapped my arm around them and they helped me walk outside of the bar.
we entered the cool, misty night air. "where do you reside?"
"d-down the street, to the left and the last house on the right."
as we walked i thought of offering the stranger to come in and i made my decision: i was going to see their face. once we arrived at my house, i fumbled for my keys and unlocked the door, i turned to see the stranger already taking off back to the bar. "wait!" i called. they stopped dead still, turning their head to me. "do you... want to come in? get to know each other better...?"
i noticed that they took a shaky breath. "i do not know people, if i know them too much, they always end up being slátrað."
"please, you're... very intriguing, i really want to know you, blóðhundur." i butchered the icelandic pronunciation.
bloodhound turned around fully now and looked at me. "you want to be..." the masked person said, unsure. but shook their head, it looked more like a twitch, and approached me. "i will stay with you for tonight."
