Proposition

The Tavern

"I'm still not entirely certain that you should go."

Ezabella set down two loaded plates into the table, a nice portion of meat and stack of vegetables, then pulled out her stool and sat opposite me, her eyes full of concern.

"Relax," I smiled as reassuringly as I could, "I'll be fine."

"But it could be something really sketchy."

"And we can't turn down a possible job invitation just because it's a bit uncertain," I sighed, picking up my fork and stabbing a large piece of broccoli, "if we did that then we'd never go to any job offers."

"I know," she frowned, cutting into her food as she stared down at it, "but I just feel like something will go wrong."

I looked at her whilst chewing my mouthful and then looked away, unable to take that horrible sad face she'd pull when she was worried.

It tore at my heart every time.

"Ezabella, I'll be alright, we're meeting in a very public place where I'm well known and if I feel as if I'm in any danger then I know the area well enough to seek help."

She looked up at me with her mixed coloured eyes faintly watered, as if they threatened to spill unshed tears.

"You promise?"

"Of course, I have to come back to annoy my best friend, don't I?"

Ezabella shook her head and huffed a laugh while smiling wryly.

"Now I wish you wouldn't."

"Too bad," I hummed, grabbing my knife to slice into my own meat, "if I don't come back with a job, I am definitely coming back at least a little drunk."

"Great, so I have to look after your ass."

We both laughed then settled into a comfortable silence as we ate, her face now settled in an expression that didn't worry me as she fretted over my wellbeing.

If there was anything I didn't want her to overdo, it was worrying herself sick about me.

Once our plates were cleared and our mugs were drained, I got up to wash everything and put it away ready for the next day's use, then I headed to my room and got ready for my meeting.

I didn't wear anything too elaborate, mostly because I didn't own anything of the sort, but I wanted to at least look smart when meeting about a possible business transaction.

Crouching down in front of a trunk that sat in the furthest corner of my room, I heaved open the lid and started fishing through for the required outfit.

One of my personal favourites, a pair of thick black leggings, a teal coloured shirt that mimicked the typical wrapped garment fashion the ladies of Asgards would wear on their dresses and a black, flowing cloak to keep me warm in the darkening hours as the usual chill set into the air.

Finished with my worn, brown boots it'd look professional but casual enough so that should the job not be accepted the clothes wouldn't be a hinderance if the evening turned into a fun one.

Quickly stripping down and getting changed, I wasted no time in grabbing my brown satchel and rushing out, snatching the letter from the dining table and stuffing it into my satchel as I left, calling into the hut; "I'll see you later!"

The door banged behind me and seemed to echo as the street before me was deserted, everyone packed up and home for a warm night of food, family and comfort.

The tavern I was heading to was barely a twenty-minute walk from our small village and for that I was thankful as the crisp air of the night whipped at my legs.

For a moment, I wondered if tonight would be the night that I'd finally get lucky.

Meet someone to warm me up in bed, to keep my company and love me physically in a way no one had done before.

Ezabella had many admirers, which was no surprise considering that she was a gorgeous woman with dark hair that accentuated her complexion and eyes and a smile that could make a man swoon when he actually paid attention to her face rather than her bust.

She wasn't shy about her body, unlike myself, and her personality was a lot more outgoing than mine was, this was why she had many more admirers than I did.

I didn't dislike her for it, but there was no denying the bubble of jealousy that churned my stomach on occasions.

Perhaps tonight would be the night, drinks would flow and hormones would rise while shyness and inhibitions were forgotten for a few hours.

The thought made me grin and force the door open to the tavern a lot harder than I had intended to, not that anyone but myself but any mind to how hard the wooden block flew open in my hand.

Inside, although the night was young, there were still many revelers beginning their night of debauchery.

The last stragglers from family friendly meals had drifted out and gone home, making way for the crowds of rowdy and promiscuous men and women.

There was a home away from home feeling about the tavern's wooden interior.

I had come here so often over the years to make business deals that whichever bartender was on that night would make sure to clear the table furthest in the corner for me without so much as an argument, tonight it appeared to be Arctic.

Arctic was a gentle giant, but still no one to be messed with.

Standing at a whopping 6'6, he would mess up anyone's business who decided to make someone else's night a misery, but until that happened he was as nice as pie and the friendliest man you could meet.

"Good evening, Arctic."

He looked over from the horns that he was setting out, no doubt preparing for the warriors who enjoyed the tradition of drinking from the ornaments, and smiled, his grin breaking his brown bushy bear in two.

"Well look who it is, you here for business or pleasure?"

"Business," I sighed, taking out the letter, "though I'll pop by for a proper drink sometime in the week."

"I'll hold you to that, but I'm guessing you're the one that lady wants to meet."

"Which lady?" I asked, raising my eyebrow and scanning the room.

Arctic pointed across the room to the dead center, where a blonde woman sat with her hands neatly laced atop the table in front of her, a seemingly untouched goblet sitting beside her left hand.

I couldn't say she was an extremely good-looking woman, but her cute features would earn her another look at least and her figure was thin, but the sash around her waist accentuated a bosom that could otherwise be looked over.

I glanced at Arctic, who gave me a wry smile and grabbed a tankard to fill up.

"Good luck," he chuckled, setting the drink on the bar.