[S&S Tavern] All thanks to the Victor (Laszlo)

[Bob Barton]

48th day of Winter 511 AV

That petching, spoiled bird Victor! How dare he give that sort of a job to his old friend. And now days after that, Bob was unable to find any trace of the Lark. Not even a plume which his whole extravagant family had. Which was why Bob decided to go to the Sun and Stars where he first found him in Alvadas in hopes for some chance at payback. Ten thousand mizas full of it. That is going to hurt. It hurt more than wasting his time waiting for nearly a bell especially when all he had to pass the time was a pitcher of ale. The disgustingly sweet yet bitter ale which he used against Victor before, that he is now using to remind himself that he was not going to let that man off the hook even if a job was great because the debt it came with was horrible though it might have been a foreseeable result from Bob's pursuits in gambling.

Then the most horrible thing possible happened. Even if Bob did not like to drink unless he was forced to such as in specially hopeless occasions, the pitcher was empty! As soon as he tipped the pitcher to find that there was nothing pouring out any longer, Bob's complains which he has been uttering since he started about Ravok, kids, birds, and gambles would be more clear when he said very loudly "trust that Lark to have a place without enough drink." If he was around, Bob would have smashed the empty pitcher on his head...after pounding on his pretty face so it was lucky that Victor was nowhere to be found. Not so lucky to whoever was manning the tavern at that time because the red faced midget which was drunk from anger demanded for "another pitcher!" because he will be staying "until my friend comes along." Bob could feel his fist crunching into that smug face already which would be a lot more satisfying than his knuckles he was cracking.

[Laszlo]

"As you wish, my lord," Laszlo mumbled bitterly, having heard the patron's throaty demand from across the small room of the tavern. The ashen skinned barkeep had temporarily sanctioned himself behind the counter, busying himself by cleaning his dwindling supply of ale mugs and eavesdropping on nearby conversations. A tavern was supposed to be a golden place to go for gossip, but Laszlo didn't find much of the chatter particularly interesting. It was an average night, and his customers were about the average amount of drunk and irritable. The Ethaefal, not for the first time, regretted that he had ever romanticized tavern environments as colorful and mysterious. Mostly, bar patrons were just slow-witted and unbathed. Another pitcher of bitter was delivered to the human's table at a leisurely pace. At least, he looked human. There was something odd about his shape, and he seemed a little short. Mizahar though was a melting pot of differing bloods. It made little difference to Laszlo what the man was, if he wasn't Ethaefal. What was interesting about him was that he appeared to know a man named Lark. Or he was just calling someone a lark. One way to find out. "Who's your friend?" Laszlo asked casually as approached the stranger's table, filling his mug for him and then leaving the pitcher on the table. The false Symenestra's lean form then leaned on the table's edger while he pretended to adjust his cuffs. "I'm sure I can sympathize with your vendetta against Victor Lark, but don't take it out on my tavern. I assure you, this place has plenty of drink."

[Bob Barton]

The way he said lord seemed like an insult but Bob could not expect anything more from a worker in a place that Victor has a hand in. Did he really call Victor a friend? That might have been a slip of the tongue because "Victor Lark is no friend of mine." Why would Bob have considered that man as a friend in the first place? "He only got me a job" Bob answered casually about his vendetta as he took a few sips of the drink because it was "a job with a huge debt." Thousands of mizas and that would be a lot more than whatever qualified as plenty for the drinks in the tavern.

"Is that why you are stuck serving drinks here?" Bob asked with words slightly slurred. Oh crap it looks like he is already drunk because he would not be smiling otherwise but even then he could appreciate that there is no such thing as sympathy from a complete stranger unless something similar has happened to them. He would not have to worry because "I won't take it out of your tavern..." although he cannot promise the same for Victor when he finds him and clips the birds wings off. The Lark thought he could get his freedom by stuffing Bob in the cage instead? Not without Bob doing something about it.

Maybe this self proclaimed sympathizer can help him depending on "how do you feel about him hmm?" Bob really wanted to hear the answer because the the pint was down in the table and he was staring while trying to keep a straight face...until he burst out in laughter that for the ethaefal "maybe enough to wait his bed like the tables?" Well, Victor was a Lark and such a thing was not that absurd a suggestion.