[i]Cobalt staggers in, and falls into a seat at the bar.[/i]
“I need a strong drink.”
English
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Cara watches Cobalt, a little surprised at his entrance. A lonely traveller sitting a few seats over glances at him curiously, and leans in the opposite direction over his own drink. The barmaid doesn’t hesitate much longer, and heads for a room in the back. “Anythin’ in particular ye have a cravin’ fer?” She asks in an Irish accent.
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“No. Make it strong.” [i]He puts a small stack of bills on the table.[/i]
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Cara disappears for a moment, then returns with a flagon of pleasant-smelling ale. She sets it before Cobalt and takes the currency to lock it away beneath the counter. “Wha’ brings ye ta Kleinton this evenin’?”
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“Murder. In pursuit of my own gains, and unknown knowledge.”
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She suddenly freezes and looks at him questioningly. In a soft tone she says, “Murder, ye say?”
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“Yes. I’d prefer not to talk about it.” [i]He takes the ale and drinks a takes a long sip.[/i]
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She crosses her arms, still seeming a little uneasy, though her face is solemn. “Well ye shouldn’t mention it if ye don’ want folk askin’ questions,” she says bluntly.
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“Had to get it off my chest. Got any odd jobs?”
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Cara eyes roll subtly, then she pauses to think. She looks at Cobalt up and down. “Wha’ do ye call an ‘odd job’? There’s wood out in the back tha’ could certainly use a good choppin’ fer the fire.” Her voice gives off an ever slight hint that there was more on her mind than just firewood when she pondered his question. [spoiler]Going to call it a night, will get back to you after work tomorrow![/spoiler]