The Glorious Flame (#2)

Chapter 4

Rouhem

     He was on edge as they entered the what humans called a 'bar'. It reminded him of taverns, though the lighting was brighter and the overall theme was less medieval. It made him homesick in a way, coming to realize that what great distance was between him and his home.

     He watched as Inferno stomped forward, leading always. Attitude dripped from the orange locks on her head down to the buckles on her leather boots, demanding the attention and focus of all in her vicinity. She was among a pick of women who were considerably more fierce than a fire-breathing dragon. She was a part of a society which did not concern themselves with rules or regulations. It did not matter what was expected of her or how others viewed her. What mattered was that she lived life the right way: her way.

     Rouhem felt a twinge of possessiveness as countless lust-filled gazes trailed after his blazing pixie. The thought that most saw her with desire was did not sit well with him. But they couldn't possibly feel anything more than that. He felt like less of a bastard when he admitted he admired more than just her appearance, for whatever insane reason he did not care to look into.

     It smelled of alcohol and deep-fried foods, an American tradition which he did not understand. There was also an excessive amount of cologne that did nothing for the men's body odor.  

     "Double whiskey, little ice," Inferno said as she sat at the counter. The stool was high, but her long legs made sure she had little trouble getting settled. The man nodded and got to work. 

     Rouhem was quiet as he sat beside her.  He was sick with worry, and dizzy with attraction. His mind was a chaotic mess of questions. After her brief episode, she said little and they were driving once more, though he was behind the wheel afterward. 

     The bartender slid the drink her way. The glass was rough against the wood, its progress halted by her pale and graceful fingers. He watched as she downed it. Not once did she cringe. Inferno must have turned to the bottle more than he had realized. 

     "Whatever you need to ask," she gritted from underneath the thick wall of her orange hair, "just ask." She clearly could read his state of mind with ease, which made him wonder why he had so much trouble with her.

     Rouhem leaned forward so that he was closer to her face. Her scent hit him in teasing tendrils. He wished he knew what was going on in that head of hers. "It's getting worse? What can we expect?" The need for knowledge was stemmed deep within him. Being blind was not something he enjoyed.

     "Rouhem, I am dying, of course it is getting worse. You know about as much as I do. It sucks, this whole thing sucks if you couldn't tell." Her words were harsh and to the point. Inferno was not one to beat around the bush; no, she drilled a tunnel straight through it.

     "You really play it off," Rouhem admitted, sitting up. The bartender stepped closer but he shook his head, finding he had no need to drink. Inferno could do it for the both of them anyway. 

     "Think so?" she chuckled. He hated how she slouched, as though she were already defeated. "You have more questions. Go on." He wanted her to not sound so exhausted. But it was not her fault after all.   

     Rouhem grabbed the small glass bowl in front of him and began to munch on whatever snack was in it. The saltiness gave his mind something else to focus on. "Don't act so surprised. You dropped a bomb on me with little detail, my dear. Probably to torture me." Maybe he should of been more gentle with her, but he decided she would have been insulted instead of appreciative if he was.