Vyn didn’t sit. Not yet. The air here still tasted off. Her jaw eased a fraction when Horace waddled off, but her gaze lingered. Watching the swagger, the bartering, and the practiced delays. The man couldn’t shut up if his life depended on it – so why hadn’t he asked what they were doing here yet?
“You’re right.” She said it low, sliding into the seat across. “He knew. Or guessed. And he’s buyin’ time.” Her hands stayed on the table, fingers interlaced and far from relaxed.
“Gives us two roads. Either we leave now and hope he doesn’t talk...” Her eyes grazed the bar.
“Or we find out who he’s been plannin’ to talk to, and get there first.”
The bar glowed with familiar heat of softened spines and loosened tongues. She leaned a little, enough for Waltz to catch her words under the stove’s hum and old pipes’ protest. She didn’t have to say much. Not with Horace already flapping his gums and the others casting glances past. Not at him.
At them.
“They’re not watching him anymore.” Her head tilted toward the bar.
“Might be worth seeing who’s listening, and who’s pretendin’ not to.” She ran her finger across one of the fresher scars.
A quiet reminder that leaks weren’t always someone else’s fault.
“That’s usually where it leaks.”
“You’re right.” She said it low, sliding into the seat across. “He knew. Or guessed. And he’s buyin’ time.” Her hands stayed on the table, fingers interlaced and far from relaxed.
“Gives us two roads. Either we leave now and hope he doesn’t talk...” Her eyes grazed the bar.
“Or we find out who he’s been plannin’ to talk to, and get there first.”
The bar glowed with familiar heat of softened spines and loosened tongues. She leaned a little, enough for Waltz to catch her words under the stove’s hum and old pipes’ protest. She didn’t have to say much. Not with Horace already flapping his gums and the others casting glances past. Not at him.
At them.
“They’re not watching him anymore.” Her head tilted toward the bar.
“Might be worth seeing who’s listening, and who’s pretendin’ not to.” She ran her finger across one of the fresher scars.
A quiet reminder that leaks weren’t always someone else’s fault.
“That’s usually where it leaks.”