"If you didn't get the information I asked for, you don't get the payment, Hera. As simple as that!"
"I almost died getting what little information I did. I'm telling you--he is excellent with a sword and he knew I wasn't who I said I was when I walked past fifty guards and a butler! Dammit, Scratch, give me my gold!" Hera growled at the small, rat-like man. She pulled a crumpled up paper out of her pocket. "Have you seen these? They're wanted posters--for me! Because of what I did--for you! Give me the bloody gold, Scratch, or so help me I will take you down with me. I didn't wait for a week in hiding before coming to you for no reason, you bloody fool."
"All right, all right, here. Fifty gold pieces. That's all I can give you for what you said. I'm sorry, Hera, you know I don't like to short you money on a deal," Scratch shrugged and handed her a bag of money.
"Thank you, Scratch."
"Oh, Hera...it's Celebrations Night at the tavern. Rooms and ale are both cheap. It's, ah, mask themed. The prince is bound to be there. Maybe we can get the rest of your money if you work some...some magic," Scratch called after her.
Hera stuffed the gold in her cloak and drew the hood up around her. The tavern had a bucket of masks sitting outside of it, which she took the prettiest one available. She put it on and stepped into the vastly crowded building. She walked around until she found a table in the back corner, completely empty an shadowed from the others. Women around her swooned and whispered, giggling to their friends, as a tall man with regal clothes and messy dark hair walked past. Hera's heart fluttered but her mouth twisted its corners up in irony. He probably thought she was dead. But now, tonight, her goal was to prove that she definitely was not dead.
The masked man made his way to the back, scanning the room for empty chairs, but the only one was in front of Hera. He shrugged and made his way toward it. "Hello," he said as he sat. "I hope this seat isn't taken."
"Not at all," Hera said with a smile.
"You!" The prince slid his mask down. "I'd recognize that cocky voice anywhere. And that's saying a lot, considering I'm called the Brat Prince."
"Is it bratty to leave the castle and go on pirating trips now?" Hera asked, setting her chin in her hand on the table. "I think it's rather daring."
"You're into daring things, aren't you, Miss...?"
"Hera is my name. And I get the sense that you are too, Prince boy."
"Killian," he smirked. "My name is Killian. Now, I shall warn you my repuration of--"
"Being a little heavy on the rum and the ale? Don't worry, I don't mind a few dozen drinks myself," Hera laughed. Killian laughed at the joke and flicked his hand in the air to indicate more drinks.
"I apologize for the intrusion last week, you know. I was just curious what the inside looked like."
"You and I both know that's not what you were in there for, but don't mind me--it's none of my business, afterall. I just do hope my gun is in good hands. Do you stay here in the tavern?"
"For the night I will, yes. Not as glorious as the castle you stay in."
"I was considering staying here myself. You could imagine the King not enjoying when his son returns home drunk. Even us Hero-blood have standards," Killian winked as he took a long drink of ale.
They talked and drank and talked and drank some more as the night went on. Hera was careful to let her tight corset show as her blouse slowly and casually became unbuttoned. She knew that Killian was paying attention. The pirate drinking types always paid attention to that.
