So I chase the inbetweens of what I say and what I mean
Henry was officially in Torchline now. Staying at the inn was an adventure in and of itself; plenty of antics and stories that went on in the dining area. Interesting people of all walks of life came through the simple walls that surrounded them, and Henry found himself among them many times. Tonight would be no different, although... there was something that felt different. He couldn't explain it. Like a weird, twisty gut feeling - neither bad, nor good.
So he sat at a table, finishing up the last bits of a meal. It was nothing like his mother's cooking but, it would have to do. His mug of beer was gone, now, as well, and a light buzz was already softening his inhibitions. He watched as a fucking lion entered the inn, pulling a blanket down and settling himself somewhere. A stray spoon went flying in his direction, and Henry could only raise his brows in stunned disbelief as the lion simply laid down and took it without even a flinch.
Oh, he must be an Attuned, Henry thought.
And then suddenly, there was a clamor of chairs as a drunk fellow barged over towards another man. Confused, Henry leaned back to get up as his table was slammed into. The drunken man grabbed the hem of the other man's shirt, demanding something or other - the slurred words were too hard for Henry to quite make out.
Something about a woman, Henry realized. Going by the seat of his pants, he rushed forward to separate the two men - who had now descended into a flurry of fists and kicks and swears and who-knows-what-else. Another spoon came flying over, hitting one of them over the head. Turning, thinking it had been Henry, who was currently trying to pry them apart, one of the men proceeded to punch him squarely in the jaw.
From somewhere else, the innkeeper was shouting. Henry's head was still spinning from the punch as it mixed around his blood and the beer already in his system.
So he sat at a table, finishing up the last bits of a meal. It was nothing like his mother's cooking but, it would have to do. His mug of beer was gone, now, as well, and a light buzz was already softening his inhibitions. He watched as a fucking lion entered the inn, pulling a blanket down and settling himself somewhere. A stray spoon went flying in his direction, and Henry could only raise his brows in stunned disbelief as the lion simply laid down and took it without even a flinch.
Oh, he must be an Attuned, Henry thought.
And then suddenly, there was a clamor of chairs as a drunk fellow barged over towards another man. Confused, Henry leaned back to get up as his table was slammed into. The drunken man grabbed the hem of the other man's shirt, demanding something or other - the slurred words were too hard for Henry to quite make out.
Something about a woman, Henry realized. Going by the seat of his pants, he rushed forward to separate the two men - who had now descended into a flurry of fists and kicks and swears and who-knows-what-else. Another spoon came flying over, hitting one of them over the head. Turning, thinking it had been Henry, who was currently trying to pry them apart, one of the men proceeded to punch him squarely in the jaw.
From somewhere else, the innkeeper was shouting. Henry's head was still spinning from the punch as it mixed around his blood and the beer already in his system.
HENRY
