But making you happy makes me happy...
Warren closed his eyes and squeezed, hoping to bite off the coming nag of a headache. His lungs held his breath as the hand not currently holding his drink pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried his best to ignore the sound of someone shuffling into the seat beside him.
"Oy, bottle'a yer best fer me and m'man here." The voice of the hyur called for attention and received it in the slow turn of Warren's head, one eye opening to look at the man. The blonde was looking at him and grinning that same knowing grin as before.
"I've got a drink, thanks." Warren raised the glass in his hand, shaking it a little for emphasis as the hand on his nose dropped heavily to the counter top. It was supposed to be a simple stop, one drink then on, and this was starting to resemble the set-up for a conversation.
"So finish that one and drink this one! Ah, there we are love. Thanks." The hyur handed over a small pile of gil and graciously accepted a bottle of Momodi's home special, then nodded with a point to the one placed before Warren. "S'good gil ya costin' me. Drink up."
Warren was ahead of him. The glass was already tilted back, emptying the contents into Warren's belly. A waste of a fine shot. Warren briefly considered if he was humoring the stranger or just trying to get out sooner. He set the glass down and picked up the cold bottle, glancing it over.
"So, 'Arb'ter.' Tha's a funny name." The hyur's tone was delighted and amused, the tone of someone far too interested. Another glance at him showed bright eyes and a near-laughing grin.
"Not a name. It's a title. I help organize the Grindstone." There was a period of silence as Warren took a drag from the bottle. "It's a fighting tournament near Fesca's Wash. A show of martial prowess."
"So ya gone from fightin' fights to watchin' 'em?"
Again Warren turned to look at the hyur, his gaze penetrating and looking for familiarity. "You've seen me fight, then?"
The hyur huffed, looking away with a grin. He exhaled lazily, half sputtering repeatedly. "Pfffhph. Chuh. Fff. I mean, well, yeah I've been on the receivin' end'a them. You always was a bully, Warren!"
The hyur looked on with an expectant smile. His eyebrows went up, his head nodded and turned slightly to the side. All at once memories long lodged away came rushing back.
"...Kolin?!" Warren's expression went to surprise, then amusement and back to surprise. "Kolin Coblyn, ugly as a Goblin?!"
The hyur took a drink and spun a finger around in a wheel motion. "Yah, yah, shoulda known the first thing ya'd 'member was that damnable rhyme." The words spoke of umbrage but there was humor in the tone, and he smiled down at the bar for a moment before turning back to face Warren.
"Twelve above, it's been years Kolin! I haven't heard from anyone for so long! After Dalamud, I feared the worst, but..."
The hyur - Kolin, while not any particular prize, certainly did not look like either a coblyn or a goblin - smiled along. "Ayup, ayup. As custom, they say. No connections back once ye step out. Surprised to see ye still in the city, Warren. Never took ye for the settlin' type."
"Yeah, me neither. It just sort of... happened." His thoughts touched in flashes on the years gone by. "It's good, though."
"Lissen ta you! All grown up! Still fightin', though. Weren't fair when we was lads, Warren. Swingin' sticks as big around as we were and as tall as the rest'a us!"
"They were never that big. And! And I couldn't help it your piddly noodle limbs were only good for running. Damnable coblyn!" Warren laughed at the thought, the memories of lazy afternoons in La Noscea while the adults peddled their wares and conducted their business.
"Yeah, yeah, drink it in while ya can, ya damnable auroch. Was always lucky we never got many roegadyn, else ya'd've lost the name to the biggest kids. An' 'member who's payin' fer yer drink!"
"What're you doing here, Kolin? I thought the caravan never went close to the biggest cities." The glow of childhood faded in the face of questions.
"S'what I wanted ta' talk to ya' 'bout." Kolin took another drink and turned to look back at Warren, but the smile on his face had changed. Instead of amusement or childish recollection, the hyur bore the mask of someone about to break bad news.
Warren closed his eyes and squeezed, hoping to bite off the coming nag of a headache. His lungs held his breath as the hand not currently holding his drink pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried his best to ignore the sound of someone shuffling into the seat beside him.
"Oy, bottle'a yer best fer me and m'man here." The voice of the hyur called for attention and received it in the slow turn of Warren's head, one eye opening to look at the man. The blonde was looking at him and grinning that same knowing grin as before.
"I've got a drink, thanks." Warren raised the glass in his hand, shaking it a little for emphasis as the hand on his nose dropped heavily to the counter top. It was supposed to be a simple stop, one drink then on, and this was starting to resemble the set-up for a conversation.
"So finish that one and drink this one! Ah, there we are love. Thanks." The hyur handed over a small pile of gil and graciously accepted a bottle of Momodi's home special, then nodded with a point to the one placed before Warren. "S'good gil ya costin' me. Drink up."
Warren was ahead of him. The glass was already tilted back, emptying the contents into Warren's belly. A waste of a fine shot. Warren briefly considered if he was humoring the stranger or just trying to get out sooner. He set the glass down and picked up the cold bottle, glancing it over.
"So, 'Arb'ter.' Tha's a funny name." The hyur's tone was delighted and amused, the tone of someone far too interested. Another glance at him showed bright eyes and a near-laughing grin.
"Not a name. It's a title. I help organize the Grindstone." There was a period of silence as Warren took a drag from the bottle. "It's a fighting tournament near Fesca's Wash. A show of martial prowess."
"So ya gone from fightin' fights to watchin' 'em?"
Again Warren turned to look at the hyur, his gaze penetrating and looking for familiarity. "You've seen me fight, then?"
The hyur huffed, looking away with a grin. He exhaled lazily, half sputtering repeatedly. "Pfffhph. Chuh. Fff. I mean, well, yeah I've been on the receivin' end'a them. You always was a bully, Warren!"
The hyur looked on with an expectant smile. His eyebrows went up, his head nodded and turned slightly to the side. All at once memories long lodged away came rushing back.
"...Kolin?!" Warren's expression went to surprise, then amusement and back to surprise. "Kolin Coblyn, ugly as a Goblin?!"
The hyur took a drink and spun a finger around in a wheel motion. "Yah, yah, shoulda known the first thing ya'd 'member was that damnable rhyme." The words spoke of umbrage but there was humor in the tone, and he smiled down at the bar for a moment before turning back to face Warren.
"Twelve above, it's been years Kolin! I haven't heard from anyone for so long! After Dalamud, I feared the worst, but..."
The hyur - Kolin, while not any particular prize, certainly did not look like either a coblyn or a goblin - smiled along. "Ayup, ayup. As custom, they say. No connections back once ye step out. Surprised to see ye still in the city, Warren. Never took ye for the settlin' type."
"Yeah, me neither. It just sort of... happened." His thoughts touched in flashes on the years gone by. "It's good, though."
"Lissen ta you! All grown up! Still fightin', though. Weren't fair when we was lads, Warren. Swingin' sticks as big around as we were and as tall as the rest'a us!"
"They were never that big. And! And I couldn't help it your piddly noodle limbs were only good for running. Damnable coblyn!" Warren laughed at the thought, the memories of lazy afternoons in La Noscea while the adults peddled their wares and conducted their business.
"Yeah, yeah, drink it in while ya can, ya damnable auroch. Was always lucky we never got many roegadyn, else ya'd've lost the name to the biggest kids. An' 'member who's payin' fer yer drink!"
"What're you doing here, Kolin? I thought the caravan never went close to the biggest cities." The glow of childhood faded in the face of questions.
"S'what I wanted ta' talk to ya' 'bout." Kolin took another drink and turned to look back at Warren, but the smile on his face had changed. Instead of amusement or childish recollection, the hyur bore the mask of someone about to break bad news.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
