The alcohol was proving a very nice supplement to their conversation. Without it, Scanlan knew they ran the risk of being too serious, too sad, too much. He poured the mead with that thought in mind, holding the cup in both hands as he contemplated Gilmore’s advice.
“I don’t know how you did it the first time. I’m trying to move forward, but it’s strange. I still have their voices in my head. Kaylie’s as well. I hear them, and I’m stuck in the same place again.”
He eyed the freshly cleaned chalice, and that too had memories of Hero’s Feasts past. This new life may have had new scenery, new people, but Scanlan still gravitated towards the familiar and all its ghosts. Maybe that was why he and Gilmore had become closer here than they had been in their past lives. And once he had gotten to know the man, Scanlan realized they were more alike than he’d first assumed.
Then Gilmore asked him a question, and Scanlan looked back down at his glass before having a taste. Instantly he made a face, put it down, and shamelessly refilled his glass with the previous drink.
“It’s... really something,” he suggested, smiling through the obvious fib. “Cheers, friend. Now then, wise bartender, tell me -- do you follow your own advice? How can you not look back?” It was probing, but Scanlan looked skeptical and a little hopeful all at once. Maybe it was possible. Maybe there was a way that didn’t involve drugs or bad decisions or regret eating them alive.
“If you told me there was an enchantment for that you could sell me any item in this shop.”