He awoke in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. A dull pain ebbed through his head and it appeared he had been stripped of his shirt. What had likely been clean sheets had been subjected to sweat, dirt and blood. Is that my blood? why am I here? Pulling off the top sheet and cover, Franz sat himself up and stepped out of the bed. It only made his headache worse. What was left of his trousers and sollerets were caked with blood and dirt, grinding as they moved with his steps.
As he pushed through the door, he realized he was in a house. The size and layout didn’t fit an inn room. Neither did the little bedroom, for that matter. Quietly, he made his way down the stairs before stopping in what looked like a familiar place. “What am I doing at -her- place?†He barely muttered the words, trying to make sure that if Ave was around, he would not be the one to wake her. He would need to ask why he was there at a later time.
Franz considered simply leaving the house right then and there. He could have easily walked out the door and returned into Ul’dah proper, returned to his own inn room, and cleaned up. But he needed an explanation. The last few suns were hazy. He could remember talking with Ave, going to the Grindstone. Losing. And...something setting him off, causing him to walk out and leave. There were...drinks...at the small bar by the airships. An argument. He couldn’t remember much else after that. He’d clearly done something to end up where he was now, and leaving would have meant leaving the answers.
Instead, Franz went down the next set of stairs. He might as well explore the house Ave was so proud of. Hopefully it was better than the kitchen. In the basement, he saw something akin to a Doman dojo. A padded floor and a little sitting area with some cups and a teapot likely having long since gone cold and empty. He uncovered another partition with a bath and took it upon himself  to at least clean up. He was certain Ave wouldn’t mind too much.
Franz untied the back of his hair and untwined his braids.He carefully unclasped the sollerets and unbuttoned his trousers, slipping into the tub to soak from of the grime off his skin. It was not reassuring to see the water tint to a brownish-red. He closed his eyes and sunk below the water, letting the braids finish unravelling and to wipe his face. He searched for something he could use to scrub with and some soap, opting to drain the bathtub and let it refill with cleaner water.
Finding what he needed, he lathered up, scrubbed, and rinsed off before returning to the tub to soak for a little longer. It hadn’t occurred to him that a clean change of clothes was not an option, and he was not going to return to what he had been wearing. Bugger me. I’ll have to call for a retainer to deliver something later…. A towel would suffice for now. He dried himself and finding a small mirror, rebraided his hair and reapplied the glamour that ensured he at least didn’t -look- like a Garlean. It was the last thing he needed at the moment.
“At least Ave has a decent choice in towels.†As he finished drying off, he fastened the towel around his waist as best he could, leaving the trousers, smallclothes and sollerets in a heap by the corner. He debated simply having them burned instead of leaving evidence. He went back up the stairs and into the kitchen. Ave had said he was welcome to cook in it. He may as well make some breakfast.
There was a defeated sigh as he realized again that her house was not equipped with particularly good tools and utensils for cooking, so he opted for something simple enough with the supplies on hand. He diced some popotoes, onions and garlic, frying them in a lightly buttered and salted frying pan until the popotoes were cooked throughout and crispy on the edges. He would have added some freshly ground pepper, if she had any, and a little thyme, if, again, she had any. At least there was a serving dish to move the fried popotoes to. Scraping the pan clean, he added in another onze of butter and cracked a few apkallu eggs he’d found in one of the pantries to scramble until golden and fluffy. He’d need to go over how to properly stock a kitchen with her later.
Scooping some of the popotoes and eggs onto a plate, he found a clean-looking form and made his way to a table. He nearly prayed that the towel would hold as he took a seat and began eating. It was oddly quieter in the house than he had expected.
As he pushed through the door, he realized he was in a house. The size and layout didn’t fit an inn room. Neither did the little bedroom, for that matter. Quietly, he made his way down the stairs before stopping in what looked like a familiar place. “What am I doing at -her- place?†He barely muttered the words, trying to make sure that if Ave was around, he would not be the one to wake her. He would need to ask why he was there at a later time.
Franz considered simply leaving the house right then and there. He could have easily walked out the door and returned into Ul’dah proper, returned to his own inn room, and cleaned up. But he needed an explanation. The last few suns were hazy. He could remember talking with Ave, going to the Grindstone. Losing. And...something setting him off, causing him to walk out and leave. There were...drinks...at the small bar by the airships. An argument. He couldn’t remember much else after that. He’d clearly done something to end up where he was now, and leaving would have meant leaving the answers.
Instead, Franz went down the next set of stairs. He might as well explore the house Ave was so proud of. Hopefully it was better than the kitchen. In the basement, he saw something akin to a Doman dojo. A padded floor and a little sitting area with some cups and a teapot likely having long since gone cold and empty. He uncovered another partition with a bath and took it upon himself  to at least clean up. He was certain Ave wouldn’t mind too much.
Franz untied the back of his hair and untwined his braids.He carefully unclasped the sollerets and unbuttoned his trousers, slipping into the tub to soak from of the grime off his skin. It was not reassuring to see the water tint to a brownish-red. He closed his eyes and sunk below the water, letting the braids finish unravelling and to wipe his face. He searched for something he could use to scrub with and some soap, opting to drain the bathtub and let it refill with cleaner water.
Finding what he needed, he lathered up, scrubbed, and rinsed off before returning to the tub to soak for a little longer. It hadn’t occurred to him that a clean change of clothes was not an option, and he was not going to return to what he had been wearing. Bugger me. I’ll have to call for a retainer to deliver something later…. A towel would suffice for now. He dried himself and finding a small mirror, rebraided his hair and reapplied the glamour that ensured he at least didn’t -look- like a Garlean. It was the last thing he needed at the moment.
“At least Ave has a decent choice in towels.†As he finished drying off, he fastened the towel around his waist as best he could, leaving the trousers, smallclothes and sollerets in a heap by the corner. He debated simply having them burned instead of leaving evidence. He went back up the stairs and into the kitchen. Ave had said he was welcome to cook in it. He may as well make some breakfast.
There was a defeated sigh as he realized again that her house was not equipped with particularly good tools and utensils for cooking, so he opted for something simple enough with the supplies on hand. He diced some popotoes, onions and garlic, frying them in a lightly buttered and salted frying pan until the popotoes were cooked throughout and crispy on the edges. He would have added some freshly ground pepper, if she had any, and a little thyme, if, again, she had any. At least there was a serving dish to move the fried popotoes to. Scraping the pan clean, he added in another onze of butter and cracked a few apkallu eggs he’d found in one of the pantries to scramble until golden and fluffy. He’d need to go over how to properly stock a kitchen with her later.
Scooping some of the popotoes and eggs onto a plate, he found a clean-looking form and made his way to a table. He nearly prayed that the towel would hold as he took a seat and began eating. It was oddly quieter in the house than he had expected.
