"Don't you dare."
The words shot out of Glen's mouth like a bolt from a crossbow, equal parts stern and panic. His hand gripped hers a little tighter, an insistent pair of eyes refusing to stray from hers even as the rest of his head turned to address his employer.
"I suppose one of us has to," he called back. As employers went, Father Manowar was far from the worst that Glen had ever had; he was reasonable, pleasant, jovial even, and far more interested in having a good time than causing anyone a bad one. Therein lay the problem however; Manowar much preferred to spend his time on the wrong side of the bar, drinking his way through his profit margins with the patrons, while drinking them under the table. His capacity to mingle was part of the Fish's charm, but there were times when Manowar's readiness to delegate grated on Glen's nerves.
He hesitated before moving though, the panic that had graced his Nari words sinking downwards into his chest. It dawned on him how little he'd learned of the life that Saidra had made for herself in the city. He had been so focused on expressing his hurt at her leaving, he hadn't made the most of the fact that she was back; and now here she was, talking about leaving him again, and Glen hadn't even taken the time to learn where in the city he might find her. He knew nothing of where she lived, where she worked; he cursed at himself for his classic short-sightedness, and for how much he struggled to think clearly when Saidra was around.
"If you are able," he said quietly, "I would like you to stay. I'm not sure I have it in me to miss you again; not even for a few hours."
The words shot out of Glen's mouth like a bolt from a crossbow, equal parts stern and panic. His hand gripped hers a little tighter, an insistent pair of eyes refusing to stray from hers even as the rest of his head turned to address his employer.
"I suppose one of us has to," he called back. As employers went, Father Manowar was far from the worst that Glen had ever had; he was reasonable, pleasant, jovial even, and far more interested in having a good time than causing anyone a bad one. Therein lay the problem however; Manowar much preferred to spend his time on the wrong side of the bar, drinking his way through his profit margins with the patrons, while drinking them under the table. His capacity to mingle was part of the Fish's charm, but there were times when Manowar's readiness to delegate grated on Glen's nerves.
He hesitated before moving though, the panic that had graced his Nari words sinking downwards into his chest. It dawned on him how little he'd learned of the life that Saidra had made for herself in the city. He had been so focused on expressing his hurt at her leaving, he hadn't made the most of the fact that she was back; and now here she was, talking about leaving him again, and Glen hadn't even taken the time to learn where in the city he might find her. He knew nothing of where she lived, where she worked; he cursed at himself for his classic short-sightedness, and for how much he struggled to think clearly when Saidra was around.
"If you are able," he said quietly, "I would like you to stay. I'm not sure I have it in me to miss you again; not even for a few hours."
.
Common | Fratava | Nari
