3rd day of Fall, 517 AV
It was time to close shop. There were only two patrons left in the House and one of them was getting up to leave. Grayson gave him a quick wave before walking over to the young man asleep at the table,
“Wake up little man, we’re closing.” He patted the disheveled bloke on the back, causing him to stir. “Come on, gittup, you gotta go.” He awoke with a jolt and looked at Grayson’s tired eyes. “Go sleep in yer own bed boy, and come back in the morning if you need to,” he added, the suggestion geared to his own benefit. The more regulars, the better. Grayson grabbed him by the collar and helped him up, then shuffled over to the door together. He hailed a ravosalaman and shifted his sleepy patron over to the boat.
Rohka watched him from the corner of the long bar as she shuffled through her cards. She sat waiting patiently on the stool, knowing that she’d soon be able to talk to him privately. The young sybil had gotten to meet Lelia and was finally employed for a business she enjoyed. Roh didn’t know much about business. But she figured what she had in mind was an idea Grayson couldn’t refuse. He had nothing to lose. Nonetheless, she was nervous. She’s never asked for anything like this from anyone before. Roh waited with bated breath for him to return.
“Alright, kid. What did you wanna talk about,” he began, not expecting the conversation to last longer than five or so chimes. “Make it quick, I gotta pick up a new iron pot from Thorin’s forge. Cheese needs a new pot.” Grayson leaned against the bar and nodded at her to start.
“Well, we could walk and talk, if you prefer. It’s late, and I wouldn’t want Thorin to close before we’re done,” she said, concerned. She needed him to be in a good, calm, open headspace when she asks him about her idea. “Um, it might take time for me to convince you, Grayson.” Rohka grinned, wondering if that would get his gears spinning.
“Whoa there now, what the petch are you trying to convince me of? You’re too young for me, you know, as cute as you think you are.” It was Grayson’s turn to grin as Rohka threw him a look of fake disgust.
“Really, Grayson? Really?” It’s no wonder he wasn’t married, she thought. Rohka didn’t know that Grayson was being serious. He’d enjoyed her presence as a tenant the last couple years, but it was only recently that she’d began to talk to him more. He’d grown fond of her company.
“Get on with it, Roh.” She smiled, knowing he only called her that when he was asking for her attention.
“Fine. I want to set up a fortune-telling table at the Malt House. Right there,” she pointed to the far corner near the door, to a table in the line of sight of any patron that would walk in.
It was time to close shop. There were only two patrons left in the House and one of them was getting up to leave. Grayson gave him a quick wave before walking over to the young man asleep at the table,
“Wake up little man, we’re closing.” He patted the disheveled bloke on the back, causing him to stir. “Come on, gittup, you gotta go.” He awoke with a jolt and looked at Grayson’s tired eyes. “Go sleep in yer own bed boy, and come back in the morning if you need to,” he added, the suggestion geared to his own benefit. The more regulars, the better. Grayson grabbed him by the collar and helped him up, then shuffled over to the door together. He hailed a ravosalaman and shifted his sleepy patron over to the boat.
Rohka watched him from the corner of the long bar as she shuffled through her cards. She sat waiting patiently on the stool, knowing that she’d soon be able to talk to him privately. The young sybil had gotten to meet Lelia and was finally employed for a business she enjoyed. Roh didn’t know much about business. But she figured what she had in mind was an idea Grayson couldn’t refuse. He had nothing to lose. Nonetheless, she was nervous. She’s never asked for anything like this from anyone before. Roh waited with bated breath for him to return.
“Alright, kid. What did you wanna talk about,” he began, not expecting the conversation to last longer than five or so chimes. “Make it quick, I gotta pick up a new iron pot from Thorin’s forge. Cheese needs a new pot.” Grayson leaned against the bar and nodded at her to start.
“Well, we could walk and talk, if you prefer. It’s late, and I wouldn’t want Thorin to close before we’re done,” she said, concerned. She needed him to be in a good, calm, open headspace when she asks him about her idea. “Um, it might take time for me to convince you, Grayson.” Rohka grinned, wondering if that would get his gears spinning.
“Whoa there now, what the petch are you trying to convince me of? You’re too young for me, you know, as cute as you think you are.” It was Grayson’s turn to grin as Rohka threw him a look of fake disgust.
“Really, Grayson? Really?” It’s no wonder he wasn’t married, she thought. Rohka didn’t know that Grayson was being serious. He’d enjoyed her presence as a tenant the last couple years, but it was only recently that she’d began to talk to him more. He’d grown fond of her company.
“Get on with it, Roh.” She smiled, knowing he only called her that when he was asking for her attention.
“Fine. I want to set up a fortune-telling table at the Malt House. Right there,” she pointed to the far corner near the door, to a table in the line of sight of any patron that would walk in.
