Cringe-y One-Shots

Salamander Bar

A dark-haired man walks into the bar, piercing green eyes staring at every table and booth until his gaze sets on the blonde in the corner. He walks over to her. "I'm surprised that you wanted to meet." He sits at the booth, crinkling his nose at the smell of the patrons along the countertop, a number of feet away. The blonde cleared her throat, gently moving a beer bottle between her fingertips.

"I thought that we should talk again. Especially after how you ducked out last time."

"Is that what I did?" He mused, looking up at the ceiling. "Hm. I thought I simply never entered the building."

"It was a jerk move," she answers, catching his eye. Her eyes were barely blue in the dark light, instead taking on a dark stormier grey. "It's almost like you don't trust me."

"Oh, I don't trust you," he answers airily, looking to his watch. He seemed captured by the ticking of the hands, opting to not see how annoyed she was becoming. "You've never given me a reason to. The only indication you've given me that is to my interest is your willingness to continue following me.., even when all I hand you is scraps. You want to be working beside me, but that's hard to do if all you do is cower below."

Her expression darkened. "And that's all you see me as?"

"Why would I see you as anything else?" He tapped his foot on the table leg, a brassy bar that gave a soft echo when touched. "You never change. You adapt to however you think people around you want you to be- do you ever think for yourself?"

She clenched the bottle, cracks appearing in its dark glass. She gave a short and dark laugh, one that did not suit the brightness in her hair. "You should've ducked out on me again. I forgot how much I hate your endless talking."

He stood, giving her a flat look. "You seem to forget, but I'll say it again for your own benefit. You'll never be nothing more than a pawn to me." He turned, starting to the exit. "And that will never change, no matter how much you try to adapt."