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"Fancy meeting you here."
Ben looked up from his pint and scoffed. “Oh who let you in?”
“What man in his right mind wouldn’t let me in?” Reaver smirked and leaned himself next to the soldier at the bar.
Ben just groaned. He had hoped his night was going to be spent listening to double entendres and drinking with someone he actually had a chance at sleeping with— but not him.
“Well I figured after what happened last time, the guard at the door may have had a better idea than to let you walk in freely.”
“And who said it was free?” Reaver peered down at him and studied his face, trying to decipher every bit of information that may make this conversation go his way just a bit easier. “Besides, the last time I was here, I recall a certain soldier causing most of the trouble, not me.”
“Not if you hadn’t been here!”
“And if I hadn’t been here your night would have been— less interesting.”
“Yeah, and maybe that man would still be alive.” Ben sipped at his pint. Reaver was right, but did he have to be so irritating about it? “Why are you here tonight, mansion getting too lonesome?”
“Not in so many words— You and I have unfinished business.”
Ben laughed and drank more. “Nothing went unfinished last time I saw you, as I recall.”
“Oh, but I recall so much more.” Reaver leaned in closer to Ben. “You owe me payment.”
Ben couldn’t hide his alarm and confusion— Surely Reaver wasn’t implying what he thought? “Payment? For what?”
The industrialist’s ever-present smirk only widened, and he glanced down to adjust his gloves. “Oh just some silly little card game I bested you in of course—- About 50 gold, I believe it was.”
The soldier laughed and found himself breathing a sigh of relief. “Fifty gold? You hunt me down for 50 gold? Here,” Ben took the pouch that was attached to his belt and handed it to him. “There’s about 60 in there— Keep the change.” Prick.
But Reaver didn’t leave, in fact his disposition didn’t seem to change in the slightest. Then again, Ben could never read men like him, men who always seemed pleased with themselves and displeased with others, no matter what. Like the were waiting for something.
“Aren’t you going to pop off then? Have more debts to collect, I assume?”
Reaver tapped his cane and looked about the room to the other drunk stragglers the innkeeper couldn’t seem to get rid of. “I think I’ll stay for a little while, see if they wander in as they often do. You don’t mind, do you?”
Ben rolled his eyes but scooted over, should Reaver deem the seat next to him worthy of touching his expensive ass. He knew very well no one else was going to be coming in to the pub— It would be light soon, and anyone who owed debts to Reaver wouldn’t dare show themselves in the light of day.
“Not if you mind your aim this time,” he mumbled.
Prick.