“I suppose we do, at that.” Esme had been barely this side of consciousness the last time she’d needed care that she couldn’t provide herself. She hadn’t the time or the strength to bargain with the saw, to beg for anything other than the most expedient treatment. Maybe she’d forgive her mother for that someday. More likely she would not.
He dipped out of view, and she fought down the natural instinct to draw closer, to see what he was doing. That would be rather unbecoming of the person she wanted to present: someone collected and who was not at all afraid of strange men on the road. Eventually, there was the clink of coins. His name was unfamiliar to her – but that was hardly surprising when she barely needed a second hand to count her friends.
Then he was back up and fixated on the vial. Perhaps she’d made a mistake and this was about to go poorly? From his expression, the lyrium in a piece of artifice was different from the lyrium you planned to consume. In quantity, if nothing else. She tried not to let that momentary confusion show on her face, motioning instead for him to go on and get the rest of his coin.
Would this beggar him? Selling to an addict was a novel experience for her, beginning to lead to unwelcome questions about responsibility and so on. What a grown man did with his body was not much of her concern.
And yet. Maybe it was his height, his relative beardlessness, that made him look young by candlelight.
“Do you have a place to go once you have this stuff, Ruth? I’d feel awful shitty if I passed you in a ditch somewhere.”
He dipped out of view, and she fought down the natural instinct to draw closer, to see what he was doing. That would be rather unbecoming of the person she wanted to present: someone collected and who was not at all afraid of strange men on the road. Eventually, there was the clink of coins. His name was unfamiliar to her – but that was hardly surprising when she barely needed a second hand to count her friends.
Then he was back up and fixated on the vial. Perhaps she’d made a mistake and this was about to go poorly? From his expression, the lyrium in a piece of artifice was different from the lyrium you planned to consume. In quantity, if nothing else. She tried not to let that momentary confusion show on her face, motioning instead for him to go on and get the rest of his coin.
Would this beggar him? Selling to an addict was a novel experience for her, beginning to lead to unwelcome questions about responsibility and so on. What a grown man did with his body was not much of her concern.
And yet. Maybe it was his height, his relative beardlessness, that made him look young by candlelight.
“Do you have a place to go once you have this stuff, Ruth? I’d feel awful shitty if I passed you in a ditch somewhere.”
05-21-2024, 07:19 PM
