It hurt.
It was the kind of hurt that rattled you up and made you shaky, put you on high alert and kept you on your toes. It was the kind of hurt that made you feel high, that made every step conscious. It was unforgiving.
Brindle kept to the shadows. He was familiar with that kind of hurt, and knew what it meant; he'd come this close to getting killed. But this time, it wasn't his fault. It was Zhi's fault, because she hadn't done her part right. She'd tripped over something, and he weas the one to pay part of the price. He'd gone low, just like she'd told him to, but they were clever, had been more clever then they'd a right to. So, he'd run. Gone to the deepest, darkest corners he knew about. He'd missed his rendezvous with Zhi.
Now he waited, outside Highness, watching people come and go, listening to their chatter. He didn't look too bad, not as far as those things went; he didn't bruise easy (never had), and they hadn't gotten in much on his face. They weren't common thugs. Naw, it'd been something else entirely. Something he'd never come toe to toe with before. It'd shook him up something fierce.
He didn't know what to do but to keep watch, keep quiet, keep listening. He'd heard the rumors about Zhi, and he knew it wasn't safe to have anything to do with her right now. But what else was he gonna do? He'd little to show for himself, and he wasn't about to go crawling belly up to one of the ship crews or one of the gangs. Not yet. He wasn't that desperate yet.
He took a big breath, put his hands in his pockets, and strolled out of the shadows and up the gangplank to the old ship whose guts had been rearranged to make it a semi-respectable tavern. He'd sit and listen for awhile. It was what he was good at.
It was the kind of hurt that rattled you up and made you shaky, put you on high alert and kept you on your toes. It was the kind of hurt that made you feel high, that made every step conscious. It was unforgiving.
Brindle kept to the shadows. He was familiar with that kind of hurt, and knew what it meant; he'd come this close to getting killed. But this time, it wasn't his fault. It was Zhi's fault, because she hadn't done her part right. She'd tripped over something, and he weas the one to pay part of the price. He'd gone low, just like she'd told him to, but they were clever, had been more clever then they'd a right to. So, he'd run. Gone to the deepest, darkest corners he knew about. He'd missed his rendezvous with Zhi.
Now he waited, outside Highness, watching people come and go, listening to their chatter. He didn't look too bad, not as far as those things went; he didn't bruise easy (never had), and they hadn't gotten in much on his face. They weren't common thugs. Naw, it'd been something else entirely. Something he'd never come toe to toe with before. It'd shook him up something fierce.
He didn't know what to do but to keep watch, keep quiet, keep listening. He'd heard the rumors about Zhi, and he knew it wasn't safe to have anything to do with her right now. But what else was he gonna do? He'd little to show for himself, and he wasn't about to go crawling belly up to one of the ship crews or one of the gangs. Not yet. He wasn't that desperate yet.
He took a big breath, put his hands in his pockets, and strolled out of the shadows and up the gangplank to the old ship whose guts had been rearranged to make it a semi-respectable tavern. He'd sit and listen for awhile. It was what he was good at.
