So, he’d guessed right. Jigano let some of the tension in his shoulders ease a little at the fey young woman’s grin, glad to see her amused rather than pouting or annoyed at his retort. One silver brow arched at the following display of lithe grace, mentally noting her balance and trim, lovely figure. A born dancer, even if she wasn’t trained, he’d wager. They’d make a stunning pair, darkness and light swirling around each other in one of the highland duets.
But of course, no one here would know the steps unless he taught them, and he wasn’t at all sure the young firecracker had any interest in being taught anything. He’d been that young once, and not so long ago, after all. Pride and snark often went hand in hand, and some equines just refused to drink, no matter how sweet the water.
He snorted softly in amusement at her blithe disclaimer, watching her pour both glasses with a quirked grin. ”Hmph. Been awhile since I had to worry about that, but it’s appreciated.” Another piece of magic he had lost in the transition, and one he hadn’t really thought about until she reminded him. Damn, that could get awkward. He’d gotten out of the habit of watching his drinks years ago, and it wasn’t a skill he was relishing re-learning. At least he didn’t have to start today though. And his erstwhile ‘drinking partner’ had a lovely voice to wash down the whiskey with, something a man in Jigano’s line of work could well admire.
He toasted his hostess and tipped back the glass a little more slowly, savoring the burn of the alcohol down the back of his tongue and following it down his throat with an almost grim satisfaction. It wasn’t the sort of vintage one lingered over for the taste, but after a week of spring water the fire was welcome. Familiar, too, after the last few years of plying his trade at inns, taverns, and public houses along the road, most of which catered primarily to working and middle class merchants and travelers. He’d had far worse, and swallowed it with a smile.
Another name was forthcoming, and an important piece of information: the person he would need to speak to if he wanted to secure a regular tab at the only functional tavern he’d been able to find so far. Convenient that they had married a brewer, or simply good business sense. The other though, the alchemist, had him arching a brow. ”I suppose if it secures your meals and drinks, a little moonshine in the side is only wise,” he murmured, lips quirking wryly. ”Leaving aside the purely personal reasons for securing your own source of liquid inspiration.” He toasted his companion with his empty glass and drummed elegant fingers on the countertop in a subdued flourish, grin widening.
” I’m Jigano, by the way. And aside from dispensing drinks and information, may I ask what else you do in this ‘fucking bubble,’ as you so aptly put it?”
But of course, no one here would know the steps unless he taught them, and he wasn’t at all sure the young firecracker had any interest in being taught anything. He’d been that young once, and not so long ago, after all. Pride and snark often went hand in hand, and some equines just refused to drink, no matter how sweet the water.
He snorted softly in amusement at her blithe disclaimer, watching her pour both glasses with a quirked grin. ”Hmph. Been awhile since I had to worry about that, but it’s appreciated.” Another piece of magic he had lost in the transition, and one he hadn’t really thought about until she reminded him. Damn, that could get awkward. He’d gotten out of the habit of watching his drinks years ago, and it wasn’t a skill he was relishing re-learning. At least he didn’t have to start today though. And his erstwhile ‘drinking partner’ had a lovely voice to wash down the whiskey with, something a man in Jigano’s line of work could well admire.
He toasted his hostess and tipped back the glass a little more slowly, savoring the burn of the alcohol down the back of his tongue and following it down his throat with an almost grim satisfaction. It wasn’t the sort of vintage one lingered over for the taste, but after a week of spring water the fire was welcome. Familiar, too, after the last few years of plying his trade at inns, taverns, and public houses along the road, most of which catered primarily to working and middle class merchants and travelers. He’d had far worse, and swallowed it with a smile.
Another name was forthcoming, and an important piece of information: the person he would need to speak to if he wanted to secure a regular tab at the only functional tavern he’d been able to find so far. Convenient that they had married a brewer, or simply good business sense. The other though, the alchemist, had him arching a brow. ”I suppose if it secures your meals and drinks, a little moonshine in the side is only wise,” he murmured, lips quirking wryly. ”Leaving aside the purely personal reasons for securing your own source of liquid inspiration.” He toasted his companion with his empty glass and drummed elegant fingers on the countertop in a subdued flourish, grin widening.
” I’m Jigano, by the way. And aside from dispensing drinks and information, may I ask what else you do in this ‘fucking bubble,’ as you so aptly put it?”
