Ceres & Jareth - Complete!
As far as she could tell, there was no definite security detail. However, a place like this was a prime target for any thief to try to pick up some extra cash with a quick and easy out. In fact, Ceres had to wonder precisely how many of these ‘volunteers’ might be pocketing some of the money that was supposed to be going back to the city anyway. Her eyes narrowed watching one of them pass by. The problem with an event like this was that unless there was a list of volunteers somewhere, no one would ever be any the wiser if some street rat walked off with a hundred gil, and even harder if they tried to make off with less.
Regardless, Ceres had stationed herself in a spot where people watching was easiest to pick out any trouble makers. Thankfully - so far - the event had gone uninterrupted. Now, if only every day in Emillion could go like that.
He’d only stepped out to grab something to eat, maybe a drink or two. The fucking white mage that he’d been dropped off at after that whole elemental debacle had practically tied him to the damn bed to make him rest, and had used some fucking magicks to hold him still until he agreed to come in for weekly check ups.
At least the guy hadn’t seemed to care about his being a fell knight. He seemed more concerned with the absolute lack of care Jareth had been giving his body.
Hence the hunt for dinner. Instead, he saw the damn blonde woman from Bierfest and the elemental fight. She was surveying the crowd, looking for all the world like she was geared up for a fucking battle instead of a drunken bar fight, which seemed more likely given the free booze.
Which reminded him. He grabbed a cup and stalked over, holding it out. “Here.” So what if he didn’t have to pay for it?
The fact that some rather large, bulky man was approaching her was near impossible to miss. However, this particular guy, and this particular offer caused her eyes to narrow, displeasure etching itself across her features as she took in first the man making the offer, and then the drink in his hand.
“No.”
For fuck’s sake. “Look,” he said, glaring at the blonde. “It’s hot, you look like you could use a damn drink to take the stick out of your ass, and it’s a thanks for the help during the freak storm.” Even though he’d been the one to jump in. Still, he had owed her a fucking drink since Bierfest and if he had to fucking lie to get her to take the damn thing, he wasn’t above it.
The drink remained stubbornly offered out.
Her eyes remained narrowed as he spoke, his tone wasn’t going to win him any awards with her anytime even remotely soon. Clearly - as he proved once again - the man hadn’t a clue how to interact with a hume, or even remotely when to knock an advance off that wasn’t wanted. If this was really how he tried to offer drinks to people, then obviously, he didn’t have much in the way of friends, and really, who would want to deal with someone like him anyway?
“Not interested.” And now the hulk of a man would earn a glare in return for his rather offensive efforts.
Jareth had to remind himself to not just reach out and throttle the woman. When the fuck did it become so fucking difficult to repay a fucking debt? Rather than acting on impulse, which would have ended up with a beer-drenched blonde, he took a deep breath and shrugged. “Your call,” he said.
He was going to turn around and leave when he stopped, looked the woman up and down. She looked like she fought - plain and mostly unmemorable, but fast. And a bitch. “Tell Dire I said thanks.” With a nod, he walked off.