Chapter Text
It had been a hard day.
Most days were hard. Being the Fabletown sheriff was no walk in the park, Bigby had worked it long enough to know that. Trying to keep a town that didn’t have much respect for you in check wasn’t easy.
By the time he got off work, his head felt like a deadweight and his body ached for rest. It started raining as he made his way from the Bronx back towards the Woodlands Apartments.
The bar was warm inside compared to the cold rain pattering on the streets. But warm didn’t exactly mean welcoming. Bigby hadn’t been back at the Trip Trap in months, and the last time he was there, things hadn’t exactly been…friendly. But he was exhausted, and cold from the rain, and his tongue craved something strong.
Inside the air felt as thick and sticky as a freshly-emptied pint glass, and a jazzy tune ballooned from the jukebox in the corner. The bar’s owner, Holly, glanced up at him from her place behind the counter. She gave him a sour look.
“Well, look who’s back,” she said.
Bigby was in no mood for Holly’s sarcasm. The door shuttered close behind him.
“Was expecting a bit more fanfare,” Bigby sniped back.
Holly rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the cash register.
Bigby raised an eyebrow.
“Not gonna tell me to fuck off this time?” he said
Holly crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
“As long as you don’t break anything in my bar this time, I don’t care what you do.”
She wasn’t trying to kick him out, which was more cordial than most of their interactions. Bigby decided to take that as a sign of progress. He took a seat at the end of the bar by the jar of pickled eggs. On the far other end, Grendal sat with his head down on the table and a half-empty glass in his hand.
“I wouldn’t bother him if I were you,” Holly said. “He’s been knocked out for hours.”
“I’m not interested in starting anything,” Bigby said. His gold eyes sharped. “At least, not tonight.”
Holly gave him a look, then grabbed a dirty glass from behind the bar and started cleaning it down with a ragged cloth.
“And what are you interested in tonight, sheriff?” she said. “No offense, but you kind of look like shit. I mean, you never exactly look spiff and span, but you look like you just got hit by a bus or something.”
“Just a long day,” Bigby grumbled. “I just need a drink to wind down.”
“Well, if that’s the case.” Holly tossed aside the rag and set the newly cleaned glass on the bar. “What’ll it be tonight, sheriff?”
Bigby lowered his eyes down to the glass in her hand.
“A Midas Gold,” he said. “Double.”