The Crimson Kestrel - Evening (Njall & Open/Reactions)
Given that the bar and diner were the only two real social spots in town, they were both understandably packed for what was usually a quiet Thursday night. The only reason Njall was even at the Kestrel to begin with had been to meet up with Felix, but a last minute plant emergency had kept him away. He'd gotten profuse apologies and increasingly creative ways in which it would be made up to him, so he was more than happy to forgive. In fact, his week had been so good so far that he decided to stay right where he was, soaking in the revelry of the quodpotters and the photoshoot staff and trading drinks and stories with those around him.
"Hello, Njall." A woman's voice cut through the din just as surely as if she'd used an amplifying spell, an echo from his past that sent icy shards of acrid anxiety plummeting in his stomach. "I've been looking for you."
He dredged up a pleasant and believable smile as he turned in his seat to face her. "Kaela! It's been a while. How are you? You look great."
And she did. Daddy's money still did wonders for his first ex-wife's wardrobe. She was smiling sharply at him, and his pulse quickened. It was not unlike facing down a great white—(Irony.)—complete with the soulless eyes. The woman assessed him with a slow, measured drag of her eyes that made him want to claw off his own skin. "And you look exactly the same. Maybe there's actually some tiny benefit to being a half-breed."
Njall couldn't tell if it was just his shock or if the area around him had just gotten quieter. He recoiled a little and stared, beyond speech for a moment. Narrowing his eyes, he dropped any pretense of politeness. "What do you want, Michaela?"
"Well," she replied, obviously relishing every word, "since I was going to be in the area anyway for my team's photoshoot—my father bought the Kappas, you see, so now I'm managing them—" there was a definite note of what, like it's hard? in her tone—"I decided to deliver this in person, rather than have my lawyer do it."
She pulled out an envelope from her bag, and handed it over. He pulled the paperwork part way out and read the header. His brows knit in annoyance as he looked back up at her. "An incontestable annulment? Michaela, it's been decades."
She shot him an acid look, eyes glittering with gleeful malice. "It's the principle of the thing. I mean, if you want to try to fight this, it's your prerogative. I have other papers already drawn up for a lawsuit for failure to disclose your status."
Anger boiled in his veins, any good mood well and truly lost. His pulse pounded in his ears, but he wouldn't argue any part of this. All of the precedence was against him, and Michaela's family was as rich as it was politically powerful. Njall cursed himself for the trembling of his lips as he spun back around to the bar, snatched up a pen close at hand, and yanked the pages from the manilla envelope. He could barely even see the words or the lines as he initialed and signed in all the flagged places before savagely thrusting the whole thing back at her. "Have a great fucking life, Ms. Dominico."
She gave him a nasty smile. "Oh, I plan on living my best one." Business done, she turned to rejoin the group she'd been with, but couldn't seem to help but twist the knife a little deeper before she was gone, and called back, "Best of luck with the Being registry, Healer Strand."