drink with me to days gone by, to the life that used to be Who: Ade Foxe & Genevieve Albrecht What: A drink and some conversation Where:The Snuggly Duckling When: November 9th (backdated) Rating: G Status: Complete!
It’d been an uneventful Saturday and yet Foxe had felt the need to avoid his room once the sun had set. He felt a bit down; Manley’s father had passed and it, a bit selfishly, had brought a few unpleasant thoughts to mind. He felt bad for his fellow dragoon. Though they weren’t especially close, Foxe didn’t envy someone in such a position. And, truth told, Manley wasn’t exactly the worst thing to happen to the Guild. An odd sort of guilt bubbled in Foxe’s chest as he thought of how they treated one another, but he squashed this feeling, as it did no good to dwell on things that couldn’t be changed.
His thoughts also went to his mother, someone who had passed less than a year ago. Being reminded of the loss brought the still-fresh wound to the surface. Foxe had half a mind to visit his family, but thought the better of it. He figured that the last thing his father needed was to console his grown son. And he couldn’t be bothered to face his sister in such a funk, especially when all she seemed to speak of lately was when he’d bring a girl home.
After a walk through the streets of the Commoner District, Foxe found himself standing before the Snuggly Duckling. This was a place he frequented from time to time, though not so much that he knew the regulars by name. A push through the door and he felt an odd sense of welcome. This was a tavern the way Foxe liked it; there wasn’t any drunken idiocy to be seen, just old timers sitting together, some young ones flittering about and playing games of darts, and no discernible trouble on the horizon.
Foxe took a seat at the bar and caught sight of a woman he’d seen here before. Blonde, pretty, and pleasant, he was almost certain he’d caught her name before but couldn’t recall it. He figured her to be a long time bartender, as she was there more often than not when he visited. He gave her a nod as a greeting and asked politely for mead.
Genevieve had been spending more time at the tavern as of late; the distraction of the constant chatter and administrative details were a welcome way to keep her mind from wandering to her own personal problems. In just a week, her rather quiet - comparatively, at any rate - life had been completely turned upside down, leaving her with a rather pressing issue to resolve. It was a shame she had yet to come up with a viable solution.
Carolina had mysteriously disappeared some time ago, and so Genevieve had taken to working the bartender shift in the evening. Eventually, she would have to hire someone to take the erstwhile woman’s place, but her initial feelers had returned no one of note. A pity, really; while she did not mind the bar, unless there was a steady stream of clientele, it was difficult to keep her mind occupied.
In the past, she’d have simply chattered with those drinking, but since news of her engagement had spread, it seemed that was all anyone had to talk of. A frustrating revelation, really; she was quite used to her name being dragged about, intertwined with whomever struck the gossips’ fancy that week. It had become second nature to ignore or provoke said rumors as she saw fit, but her betrothal to Orsinio was no gossip monger’s delusion or fantasy.
Her thoughts were a steady stream of background noise as she wiped down the bar. Someone came to sit and a nod was given her along with an order. She smiled and poured a mug of mead before placing it in front of the man. He was not someone she saw often, though he was far from a new customer. One of the things she prided herself on was knowing the people who walked through the door; a welcoming environment often produced higher revenues, and though she enjoyed being social and speaking with a variety of people, the Duckling was a business, and as such, profits were quite important.
“It has been some time since I’ve last seen you,” she said. It was quiet enough that she could spare some time to speak with him. “I trust you have been well?”
"Well enough," Foxe said honestly. His brow was knit when he spoke, an indicator that there was trouble on his mind but he didn't want to burden the woman, at least not so suddenly. It was enough work to be behind the bar at a tavern, she didn't need to be therapist on top of her regular duties. He took a sip of his drink before speaking again, "Excellent drink, as always." A pause. "And how have you been?"
He hadn't quite noticed the way eyes flitted over to the woman when he'd entered, but after a quick turn to take in the sight of the crowd around them he did notice the occasional lingering gaze. It was a strange thing, but Foxe didn't let it bother him terribly. He supposed that people felt uneasy around someone in armor and didn't think that the glances had anything to do with the woman. Not yet, at least.
She nodded in acknowledgment of the drink quality; she took care to only order the best, especially in ciders and mead. Aspel and Magnolia might not be such frequent customers that her stores were easily depleted, those were their drinks of choice and she wished for her friends to have only the best when she could manage such. She had never understood the appeal of mead - far too heavy for her - but it was one of the more popular straight drinks that she offered.
The slight tightening of his brow did not go unnoticed, but she did not pry. She did not know him nearly well enough to ask about it, and so she noted it away and carried on. If he chose to speak of it, then she would listen. “I have been as well as can be expected,” she replied honestly. She did not think there was a person in the city who had not heard or her current entanglement, but he had not mentioned it and she did not want to provoke such conversation. “It has been a trying week, in many ways.”
The way she spoke seemed to indicate that she assumed Foxe knew of her troubles. He raised a brow and leaned in a little closer, but not before glancing over his shoulder once again. He paid close attention to the wandering eyes, realizing they focused on the woman he was speaking to and not himself. "My apologies if I'm being rude, but has something happened?" Foxe wasn't much of a listener of idle gossip. Sometimes it couldn't be helped, of course, but in this instance, he had very little clue as to what was going on.
It took her a moment to realize that he genuinely had not a clue as to what she was referring. Refreshing, really, though it left her in the rather awkward position of explaining her issue, which she most assuredly did not wish to do. Still, as she had been the one to mention it, she could hardly ignore it. With a sigh, Genevieve leaned closer - she might well have walked into this situation herself, but that did not mean that she wished this conversation with any others - and replied quietly, “Only the matter of my engagement to a rather ill-suited noble.”
As little detail as possible, whilst being completely honest. A skill she had honed after years of practice, and for good reason. Still, if he was as completely disconnected from the gossips and news as she was beginning to think, then even such vague explanation would be completely lost on him.
“I’m not typically one to keep up with the latest noble gossip,” Foxe said as explanation for his ignorance. He had a certain distaste for the city’s nobility from years of dealing with the snobby rich. Guarding someone who had no sense of gratitude or attending parties where you’d be kicked out for wearing the wrong sort of shoes left a bad taste in Foxe’s mouth after a while.
He could tell from the look on her face that she didn’t really want to go into detail. “Perhaps…” he said, trying to be helpful, “breaking off the engagement would be for the best?” The thought that she couldn’t break it off didn’t occur to him, as he was entirely removed from the sort of world where one got betrothed against her will.
Genevieve couldn’t help but chuckle. It was refreshing to be in the presence of one so thoroughly removed from the machinations that were noble betrothals. She envied him, just a little. To be so completely detached from that world… It was something she would have given a great deal for. Unfortunate, really, that an accident of birth had made such a wish impossible lest she wished to renounce her title and name - something that she could do, were she truly desperate, as the Duckling provided a comfortable income for her independent of the purse string of her title.
“Were it only that easy,” she replied wistfully. “My betrothed would have to be the one to break the engagement. My words and autonomy are ignored in favor of my male keeper.”
Foxe raised a brow in response to her words. It seemed utterly ridiculous to him that a woman had no say in such a matter. He’d been raised by a strong woman and had a sister who, for all her frilly dresses and teddy bears, would punch him on the regular if he did things she wasn’t fond of. He’d been raised to respect women for their thoughts, to think of them as equals. Hell, he’d seen plenty of female fighters who were more than capable of making their own decisions about how they lived their lives. Not for the first time, he thanked the stars that he’d been born into the right class. Nobles, for all their money and privilege, really had the stupidest rules and ideas.
“That’s a bit of bullshit, isn’t it?” Foxe smiled a wry smile. “Your parents able to help you out at all?” He paused briefly to consider things, “Can you have someone else… duel for you? Maybe you could duel for yourself. He sounds like he could use a swift kick from a strong woman.” He grinned.
Genevieve actually laughed. “If only,” she said with a small smile. “It is my parents pushing for it.” A terrible thing, really. A problem she would have to solve on her own, regardless. “And as neither Count Calibri nor my parents wish to call the arrangement off, it appears I am quite helpless.” Not so helpless as to be forced to go through with it, but her options were rather limited.
“Enough of my woes, however,” she continued. “Do tell me something to distract myself from these unpleasant thoughts.”
Foxe looked at the woman for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. He felt bad for her, but thought it disrespectful to continue on with the conversation if she didn’t want to tell anymore. Briefly, he considered offering his services to threaten the noble to whom she was engaged, but the last thing in the world he wanted was to get in the middle of the affairs of nobles. Mess with the wrong one, Foxe thought, and he couldn’t be certain he wasn’t signing his own death warrant.
With a compassionate smile, Foxe shrugged his shoulder. “I haven’t much news. Bit boring on my end.” It wasn’t strictly true, but he hardly wanted to weigh the woman down with sad shop talk. He thought briefly of bringing up his sister, who was dear but also obnoxious and pushing him to find a woman, but that seemed harsh in the face of her admission. “It’s been a surprisingly peaceful autumn, though I suppose it’s not good for me to tempt the fates in such a way.”
“The peace has been much welcomed,” she agreed. “What with the rampant disaster that was spring and summer, I must admit to preferring the day to day drudgery that this autumn has been.” She still had nightmares when she dwelled too heavily about that night in the streets, when she had thought she had seen Alistair’s ghost. Yes, the silence of the fall was far preferable.
While they had been chatting, another patron had arrived. Genevieve excused herself to tend to her, efficiently mixing the drink and serving it up. The woman smiled and left to seat herself at a table. She returned and handed him a new glass of mead. “On the house,” she informed him. “For keeping me company through this dreadfully dull shift.”
“Cheers,” Foxe said, raising the glass slightly. He gave the woman a smile and tried to not let the information he’d found out about her bring him down. It was in his nature to want to help, it was why he’d joined the Fighters Guild in the first place. But it wouldn’t do to pity her. After she returned from serving a man in the center of the room, Foxe turned to her. “Can I get you one? Or are you not allowed to drink on the job?” His hand was in his pocket, his fingers running over a coin. He couldn’t do much, but this little kindness wasn’t beyond him.
“I think a drink would be wonderful,” she said. “Thank you.”