KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
He knew that feeling of helplessness. Of being willing yet unable to help. So even if he wanted to say no, tell Noah that there was nothing at all that he could do... Korbin stopped himself. Forced himself to think, if there was anything he actually needed.
Clothes. A roof over his head, food. He had all of that. Enough to get by, at least. Weapons could be borrowed or otherwise acquired, and Korbin had no need for them. All of his had burned, along with Weaver's spares. Her own daggers and scythe were gone with her, and he would never drag around that bulky oversized polearm anyway. Materially, he was set. Had less of everything, but...
"There may be..." he said slowly, as his mind turned to less immediate concerns and went through all the issues around the Kraai. "Weaver had a business partner, when she set this place up. Someone who backed her, provided the stock. Picked the name. Name's Sunjata Senzaok." Korbin's expression darkened.
"I've met him a few times. An arrogant asshole, but a charmer too... He might try to stake a claim to the bar. Problem is, we absolutely do not get along. And he is a Torchline official. I highly doubt we will be able to settle the matter of ownership... especially since I have no intention of letting him keep a single bottle from here."
Looking up, Korbin regarded Noah almost cautiously. Unaware of how possessive he sounded when he spoke of the place - every syllable about the tavern was a half growled mine, whether he was convinced he could do the work or not.
"If he starts to flex rank, or muscle, or entitlement... I might need some backup." If rumors served, Noah had been getting a promotion lately. Wasn't this the sort of thing a Chief of Public affairs should help deal with?
Clothes. A roof over his head, food. He had all of that. Enough to get by, at least. Weapons could be borrowed or otherwise acquired, and Korbin had no need for them. All of his had burned, along with Weaver's spares. Her own daggers and scythe were gone with her, and he would never drag around that bulky oversized polearm anyway. Materially, he was set. Had less of everything, but...
"There may be..." he said slowly, as his mind turned to less immediate concerns and went through all the issues around the Kraai. "Weaver had a business partner, when she set this place up. Someone who backed her, provided the stock. Picked the name. Name's Sunjata Senzaok." Korbin's expression darkened.
"I've met him a few times. An arrogant asshole, but a charmer too... He might try to stake a claim to the bar. Problem is, we absolutely do not get along. And he is a Torchline official. I highly doubt we will be able to settle the matter of ownership... especially since I have no intention of letting him keep a single bottle from here."
Looking up, Korbin regarded Noah almost cautiously. Unaware of how possessive he sounded when he spoke of the place - every syllable about the tavern was a half growled mine, whether he was convinced he could do the work or not.
"If he starts to flex rank, or muscle, or entitlement... I might need some backup." If rumors served, Noah had been getting a promotion lately. Wasn't this the sort of thing a Chief of Public affairs should help deal with?
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
