Displaced

Chapter 99

Arlette reclined in her seat in her office, her feet propped up on her desk, and took another swig of beer from an earthen jug. The liquid stung as it went down her throat and it tasted like garoph puke, but she didn't care. She was well past the point of caring about anything at all, which meant the booze was doing its job and doing it well; so well, in fact, that she didn't even react when the nearby door slid open without warning and a large armored and masked man marched inside. Well, two of them marched in through two doors, but who was counting?

"Yo, what's this I hear about an elf getting past the border?" Blake huffed. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Arlette hiccuped, her gaze going back to the jug in her hand as she wished for Lord Ferros to go away. She didn't want to deal with him right now. She didn't want to deal with anything; that was why she was already on her third jug. All she wanted was to recline in her office and enjoy the mental quiet under an alcohol-induced haze, a mental fog so thick that she couldn't put two thoughts together if she tried.

Her employer sniffed and took an instinctive step back, waving his metal-clad hand in front of his mask. "Oh, wonderful," he said. Arlette could hear the frown in his voice, though she couldn't imagine it; he'd never once let her see his face in all the time she'd worked for him. "Just how drunk are you, anyway?"

"Not enough," she replied, taking another gulp. "Come back tomorrow."

"No. I want to know now. Tell me what you know," he demanded.

"It's Tehlmar," she slurred.

"Who the fuck is Tehlmar?"

"He's a guy I knew," she helpfully informed him. "He died though."

"He what? But..." He took a slow, deep breath. "So he's a 'guy you knew' who 'died' but is now somehow locked up in my dungeon, alive."

Arlette nodded slowly, the room drifting with every movement.

"So he didn't die after all."

"I watched it happen. It was real."

"So what are you saying, that he somehow came back to life?" he asked with obvious disbelief.

Arlette took another large swig and let the silence do the answering.

"Okay... okay okay okay..." Blake muttered to himself, putting his metal head in his hands. "We have an elf that not only got through my border security somehow, but also is apparently back from the dead. So, as my head of security, WHY ARE YOU HERE GETTING WASTED INSTEAD OF DOWN THERE GETTING ANSWERS!?!"

"Don't want to see him right now. Don't want to see him ever." She put a hand on her stomach and a hand over her mouth as she felt something begin to traverse her food tube in the wrong direction. Puke? Nope. A large belch erupted from her mouth and nose, with a hint of bile found within. Yum.

Blake clenched his fists and looked up towards the ceiling in aggravation. "Ahhh, I hate drunk people so much!" he said to the lights above. Arlette didn't comment, hoping that this meant that he would go away. Unfortunately, he did not.

"Do you know anything?! What do I even pay you for?!"

"You do it, Mister Smarts," she slurred at him. "Mister I'm The Smartest Person Here. Go be smart at Tehlmar and leave me alone. I'm done. Tired."

And she was. So very, very tired. Of everything.

"You know what?" Blake huffed a few moments later. "Fine. Looks like, as always, I have to do everything myself. Be ready for a long talk about your professionalism tomorrow."