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“What day is it?”
Leofard barely recognized his own voice as he asked the question. For a blessing, he was ignored. He tried to focus his eyes on the counter, to see just how many bottles lay before him, but everything seemed a blur.
In a desperate attempt to gain his bearings, Leofard pushed himself up from the bar and ambled toward a bright blur he assumed was probably the exit. But before he could get there, he impacted with something. Something hard. Something hard and annoyed, if the sounds it produced were any indication.
“Mind yourself,” a gruff voice proclaimed with a snort of disgust as Leofard took a step backward, nearly falling over onto a table behind him.
Leofard tried to focus on the face of the man before him, a man who seemed eager to get as far away from everyone as possible. His hair was black, with the slightest streak of white sprouting at the peak of his forehead. There was something… familiar about this man.
“Do I know you?” Leofard half-slurred, peering awkwardly at the man’s face as he tried in vain to push through the crowd.
“Doubtful,” he replied, though something in his voice made Leofard wonder.
The sky pirate stared at him another moment, long enough to cause discomfort. “You a Talon?”
The man, who just moments ago had seemed eager to escape by any means possible, turned to face Leofard. “Am I a what?”
“A Talon,” Leofard repeated as if it were a casual question and not some sort of accusation (as it certainly was). “One of Radlia’s crew.”
The man simply peered at him as if he’d lost his mind. Naturally, Leofard was used to this.
“Leofard Myste,” he announced suddenly, thrusting his hand out with such velocity that the man actually recoiled. “And you are…?”
The stranger stared at him for a good, long, uncomfortable moment. “Titus,” he finally said. Leofard could tell he was lying, but there were only two reasons a man would lie about his name. One: he had a history and didn’t want to share it. Two: he had a gods-awful name. Either way, Leofard wasn’t going to press the issue.
“How ‘bout I buy you a drink, Titus?”
Titus looked at him with what could only be described as a glare.
“Come on,” Leofard urged, waving over the bartender. “What’ll you have, my new friend?”
The man was silent a moment. “Coffee.”
Leofard stared. “Co— what?”
“Coffee.”
Leofard stared some more.
“Give him a coffee,” Leofard finally repeated, winking slyly to the bartender. The bartender smiled and ducked out of sight. “So, Titus, what brings you to… to………”
Oh gods, where was he???
Titus smiled. “To where, precisely?”
“To… uh, here,” Leofard recovered very (not) smoothly.
The man rolled his eyes. “Business.”
“Ah, yes, a classic,” Leofard replied with a grin. “And what kind of business brings a Garlean to… wherever it is we are?”
Titus’s smile faded. “None of your concern, pirate.”
That got Leofard’s attention. “You have an issue with sky pirates, Garlean?”
“Of course not,” Titus replied, “I simply—”
He was cut off by a mug of coffee thrust before him. It was warm, steam billowing off the brim, and for the briefest of moments the man’s features seemed to soften. With both hands he grasped the mug and breathed in the aroma with a smile.
“Enjoy,” Leofard said with a grin.
Twenty minutes later, Titus was a whole new man.
“What was in that coffee?” he asked with the slightest of slurred words.
“Liquor,” Leofard replied with a shrug.
Titus seemed appalled. “What???”
“It’s a bar,” Lefoard reminded him before taking a gulp from his own mug. “What’d you expect?”
Titus opened his mouth, but closed it before uttering a single word. “You’re offensive,” he finally muttered.
“Not the first person to tell me that,” Leofard replied with a grin, pushing his own mug in front of the Garlean. “Come on, enjoy life a little.”
Titus snorted. “You’re irritating.”
Leofard grinned. “Not the first to tell me that either.”
“Do you have a habit of engaging random passersby in conversation?” Titus asked, gripping his now-liquor-filled glass with both hands. His cheeks had taken on a healthy rosy tint, something that gave Leofard no end of joy.
“I do,” the sky pirate admitted with a wide grin. “You think that’s bad or something?”
“You don’t?” Titus asked with a frown.
Leofard nudged the Garlean’s glass. “You drink more of that and you might change your tune.”
With a snort of disgust, Titus picked the glass up and took a swig. “You still vex me.”
“Good.” Leofard grinned a the Garlean’s frown. “You ought to loosen up. Maybe let me take you for a spin up in the sky.”
“You can fly?” Titus asked with an unusual laugh.
Leofard nodded with a grin. “Up there in the sky where the air is clear and the concerns of the world drift away…”
“Nonsense,” Titus replied before taking another swig from the glass. “Our responsibilities do not simply drift away.”
“Maybe not,” Leofard admitted with a light shrug of his shoulders, “but sometimes getting away from them for a bit is all it takes to get your head back on straight.”
Titus all but launched himself to his feet, startling more than just a few nearby patrons. “You could not possibly understand the duty that binds me.”
“Maybe not,” Leofard returned, rising to his feet as well, “but that doesn’t mean the sky won’t clear your head.”
Titus seemed to sneer as the two men looked at each other. Without another word, he turned and walked away. Leofard was of a mind to follow him, but he hadn’t had near enough liquor to think that was a good idea. Instead, he turned to the barkeep.
“Do you know who that man was?” Leofard asked earnestly.
“He said his name was Titus, hm?” Gibrillont mused, his eyes fixed on the door. “Aye, I’ve heard the name before.”
“You know him?” Leofard pushed, his elbow on the counter and his eyes fixed on the barkeep.
Gibrillont laughed. “Titus was the brother of the Emperor of Garlemald,” he explained. “Titus yae Galvus.”
Leofard blinked.
“You’re saying I was speaking with the crown……. uncle? Of Garlemald?”
Gibrillont couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I think it’s more likely your new friend was using a convenient alias,” the barkeep explained. “I wouldn’t think much of it.”
“I s’pose…” Leofard returned, trailing off as he returned his bottom to his chair. His eyes turned to his companion’s unemptied glass. “Guess he won’t be needing this anymore.”
No one batted an eyelash as Leofard drained the glass.