She had long ago formed a habit of telling the barkeep of the Comb and Wattle of all her woes, punctuated always by the phrase, "And that's why I need a free drink". It always worked, when she was younger... it took more effort now.
The young woman blew a few curls from her rather tired eyes, settling her elbows on the bar as she felt the relief of the weight being removed from her not long ago sprained ankle.
"... I was out hunting, chasing something and I tripped over a root, fell sideways oddly..."
Her head ached. Her back ached, too, from the awful dress she'd been forced into.
"...my great aunt took me in while it was healing. Started talking to me about life... she confiscated my hunting gear and forced me into an old, slightly too small dress that belonged to her daughter..."
She'd hoped to see Gorlen there. Somehow she wanted confirmation that she hadn't cheated herself out of something decent with making Dagramir leave her be. She'd been oddly angry since then, though she couldn't place why.
"...this man walked in right as he kissed me. We started laughing. I thought about telling him to close the door and that's when the guilt hit. I just couldn't! Because...ugh, you know why..."
She'd gone to her great aunts house, managed to get her hunting gear back after a bit of arguing, at least that was some level of comfort. She wanted to burn that dress.
"...She told me I needed to stop acting like a man if I wanted to find one. I told her she should stop acting like a hag if she didn't want to look like one..."
Going back into Bree had been a horrible idea. You can't even rest for two damned minutes without someone getting stabbed or strangled in the back room or street.
"...there was this woman, a man had her in a hold, dagger to her throat. He ended up shoving some kind of... spiked feather into her arm and running off, I bandaged it up..."
She needed a drink. She was pissed off at everything and had no idea why. No idea why she was so discontent. Even as she'd made her way here, her mind was spinning with irritating nonsense.
"...so I came to your fine establishment, of course. ...you seen Gorlen today?..."
She hated herself for the question the moment it left her lips. Why was she so bothered? Why was she so obsessed? But she knew, he was all she had. She would not let him go; could not let him go. Not for anything.
The barmaid must have noted her clench-jawed, deathly stare at the counter, as she was now being stared at. She flicks her eyes up.
"And that's why I need a free drink."
