Another waste of a fucking day. How many fucking holidays did this town have? He’d never even heard of Howaito Dë before coming to Emillion - not that he’d bothered to keep up with celebrated events as a rule. Nothing to be gained from them except a large waste of time. And crowds.
Everywhere.
He finally managed to slip into a bar and muscle his way to the counter, ordering a beer. Hopefully, he could find a table and manage to drink in peace.
Just as the man had settled down, the woman beside him turned to see the familiar face...just as his beer arrived. “Hello~” came the sing-songy voice. It sounded quite pleased to be making his acquaintance. A moment later, she was holding out a small box. “Happy White Day.” It was getting pretty far on in the evening and she was clearly a few drinks in.
“You look really familiar.” There was a beat before she added, “That’s not a pick-up line.” Then another beat before she added, “Unless you want it to be.”
He didn’t even need to look at her to know that this was the same damned lush from Bierfest. Fuck. With a sigh, he turned to tell her to fuck off and came face to face with the box of chocolates. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. “Keep your damn chocolates. I don’t even know you.”
The beginnings of a migraine started low in his skull at her insinuation. “Why the fuck would I want you to hit on me? I just want to drink.”
“You don’t have to know me,” she said, clearly taken aback by his brashness. “I was just being nice…” She thought about holding the chocolates out a little longer, but lowered her hands. Then thought the better of it. Instead, she just placed them in her lap. “You have a bad day? You’re awfully grumpy for someone who could have just scored free chocolate.”
Then as an afterthought her eyes went wide with worry. “Are you allergic? I amso sorry!”
Jareth was remembering the last time he’d run into her. And how that conversation had gone. What was her name again? “Eden,” he said, recalling it. “I’m not allergic to chocolate. I just don’t like it. And I’m here to drink.” Valendian chocolate was too sweet, and the beer tasted like piss, but the beer at least had some alcoholic content, which was more than he could say at the chocolate.
But she looked like he’d kicked her, and he knew that look all too well. Had seen it on himself. On Celi. Fuck me, he thought. “You can buy me a drink.”