(Reference chapter: Exported, Ch.78" the Chapter in which Mikaela finally ends this Book".)
Takes place right after exposed, Amoria
Erik~~
Punching drunk people. That's my new hobby.
I say that a lot to my wife, it's a joke— a joke that's half reality. I smirk to myself, recalling the last time I did that. Last week, some drunkard tried to size me up, and he couldn't even stand up straight. Knocked out cold from a solid punch.
Why do I get the chance to slug alcoholics so much? I'm a bartender now. Why am I a bartender when I'm also husband of Madam Preeminence? Because Rydersin likes my drinks, and I should most definitely share my talent with the world—or, Amoria, at least. Also, Amorian drinks are better. She loves all the drinks I whip up for her. Though, Rydersin doesn't understand my simple liking for mead.
As I dry an already dry cup, a disheveled looking bum slumps onto a stool in front of me. The way he leans so dependently into the counter for support, I bet he's already drunk. He reeks. His purple Amorian eyes struggle to focus on mine. When he finally does focus he just stares at me. For a very, very, long time. I continue to spin the dry cup on the dry towel to make it more dry. We stare intently at each other. He opens and smacks his lips like a weirdo who thinks lip smacking is a language. Is it a language? I bet it is, though, elsewhere in the universe.
Speak dammit. His silence makes me uncomfortable but I'm not losing whatever arbitrary staring game we've already started.
He continues to uphold his silence, and I'm getting impatient. Rydersin does this enough to me at the palace. I'm beginning to think this is intentional. Should I punch him? No, he's not drunk yet— I think. I think the dude's just a lunatic who forgets basic socializing. I arch an eyebrow, trying to signal to this guy's empty brain. Something goes through his brain...
No, nevermind, he just raises a brow of his own. This dumbass, I can't- ugh.
I switch which eyebrow is raised. The dude tries to mimic, but just raises both brows at the same time. Obviously, not as advanced as me.
I can't take this stupidity any longer, "Need something?"
Abruptly, his hand shoots forward and practically in my face, "ONE DRINK PLEASE-uh." I think I liked it better when he was quiet. He's way too loud and way too annoying.
I exhale, trying not to punch him before he's drunk, "Which drink?"
He shrugs, "You choo."
Bartender special? Can I poison him? I read the date on his wrist. Oh yeah, I can definitely poison him. The most it'll cause him is some stomach inconvenience. I prepare a cheap fancy looking drink I'll definitely charge extra for. Yes, the poison is in it, 'It's pick your poison' not 'Let the handsome bartender pick your poison.'
I set it on the counter for him. The fancy and definitely not poisonous drink, gets picked up so aggressively more than half of it spills onto the floor. The alcoholic downs it instantly, and slams the cup on the bar, "More."
I glare, raise an eyebrow, but reluctantly make the same drink. He finishes it faster than he did the first.
Aggressively, he slams the cup on the counter, and I hear the cup crack. I'm fed up with him.
My attention is pulled to the silver watch on my wrist. Wifey bought it for me. She insisted it matched my eyes then proceeded to call me ugly, so I'm convinced Rydersin bought me an ugly watch. I think it's quite nice, but Amorian standards are way higher than mine. The time on my ugly silver watch reads some time past midnight. I really want to be home with my wife, in bed, and just sleep. Maybe talk with her about how uneventful my day was and how overwhelming hers was. Anything but be here with this brainless numbskull.
The drink I gave him was an intensely strong one. To have two of it is probably an overdose. He is undeniably sloshed. Lazily he drops currency on the bar, way more than I was gonna overcharge. Awesome tip, though in all seriousness, I'm really just that amazing.
When he slipped off the stool, the guy almost dropped onto his face (which would've been hilarious) but manages to wobble his way out of the bar unscathed.
Before I let myself relax or go home, I'm reminded that I need to clean up. There are technologies on Amoria but the bar owner, a.k.a me, is working on a budget. I, the bar owner, has a budget even when I have practically unlimited money because, masochism.
But the work is mostly sanitation stuff I learned after Rydersin forced me to. She wants me to be responsible for myself and manage without her well of konkursi nd Veil. Have I siphoned any of the drinks here? I wish to. But no, because of the budget. The fancy wine is at the palace. I drink mead.
I throw a towel into a bucket under the bar, the towels are the only thing I let the konkursi maintain. The bell over the door jingles upon my exit. I leave it locked behind me. I normally don't lock it, but I still smell the annoying bum somewhere nearby.
The car waits for me a couple blocks around the corner, though when I turn that corner, I'm met with the strong smell of my current least favorite person. Not only him, but he has his arms wrapped around some young girl who obviously doesn't like him as much as I. He gets all up in her face as she struggles to get away. I seriously don't know how he's still standing.
Creeping up slowly, they don't notice me. As soon as I'm within arms length, I separate them. She accidentally gets her back slammed into a nearby wall and the walking inconvenience crumples onto the floor. He makes noises that might be side effects of the special concoction I crafted for him or just his preexisting lunacy. But he needs to shut up. A swift kick to his head knocks him out cold. He's fine though, his date guarantees him years ahead.
The girl let's out some dirty Amorian words, catching my attention. She's a dirty-blonde and her purple eyes are a deep purple.
"You good?" I ask in Amorian.
Her lack of response is probably because of being in shock, but I'm too irritable already. I walk down to get to the Veil car not far ahead. She stops me with an arm and turns me to face her.
"Thank you," I think I hear her mutter Blackwood at the end to address me but I'm unsure. Nor do I care. I really just wanna sleep. Or hug wifey. Anything involving a good drink, my room, bed, or my wife. Maybe all three.
But I'm inexplicably curious if she did say my name, "What's your name?"
"Molly, I'm 7." 7 years on Amoria is 14 earth years.
Molly. Suddenly, my head feels light. Emotions I thought didn't exist anymore resurface and I find myself unsteady. I keep up a facade of composure, but I want to crumple like the drunkard I kicked. I clear my throat and thoughts and get to the other thing she said, "7? Why are you out here at this time?" I did a lot of crap when I was 14, but I don't remember being in dark places with nearby bars and drunk people.
She sighs, "I... just wanted to get away from the orphanage, please don't turn me in..."
Orphanage? Now she has me thinking about Iris. Is this girl's tragic backstory just a mixture of my exes? My eyes are drawn to her wrist.
11-15-93
That's my date. That's it. I don't believe in coincidences. Or I might. My mind reels. My stance and demeanor falters. The girl, Molly, looks around innocently, possibly finding escape routes if I try to turn her in. Though I doubt she could beat me in a fight. But I won't turn her in.
"Come with me," I tell her. What am I doing? I don't know.
Molly cocks her head, "Why?"
"Do you want to be out here?"
"No."
"Then come with me." What am I thinking, why am I taking her, and what will I even do with her, are all valid questions that anybody could ask and I can't answer.
"But where are you taking me?"
I scoff, "Surely, you know who I am."
Hesitantly, she nods, "Erik Blackwood. Former... Tresais and husband of the Preeminence." Judging by her expression, the weight of my social status seems to hit her like a brick.
"Then come on," I hold out my hand with my bare expiration date, "You must be curious to see the estate." It's a palace in my eyes, but it's not the main one, so I call it an estate. She notices my date and looks back at her own before taking my hand.
******
On the car ride home, Karn lectures me about bringing random children to the estate, but I remind him I can always blackmail him. I can tell Xioazhi about the last time he made out with her sister. That was threatening enough to make him shut up. Karn would fight me, but he wouldn't dare touch his girlfriend's sister. Even though I don't know the last time he kissed Meilin, I'm sure I can accurately make something up. Molly listened to our entire bicker, and I could hear her giggling behind me.
The konkursi are already waiting at the door to take Molly to her temporary quarters. Once they take her I go straight to my room.
Immediately, I get into my sleeping attire (which is just pants) and flop onto my bed. The bed's like a cloud and this is heaven. Rydersin steps out of the bathroom in a robe, and there's my angel.
"Hello wifey."
She deadpans, "Are you drunk?"
I smile, "No, just giddy, now that you're here." She turns around and undoes her robe to get dressed, which is a shame because now she's depriving me.
"Good, because you can't drink for the next couple of months." She banned me from drinking so that we're in sober misery together
"How would you feel about adopting a teenager," I ask impulsively.
"Are you sure you're not drunk?"
I laugh, "I promise."
Rydersin turns, now in silk pajamas, and lays next to me on the bed, "Why do you ask? Did you meet an orphan teenager, feel pity, then want to adopt them?"
Wow. She's good, "Maybe. I'll tell you in the morning."
She sighs, burying her face in my chest, while I hug her close as I can without hurting her, "I heard teens are a handful. I'm not ready for that yet, when we already have our own child coming."
I look down at the large bump still forming in her torso. 4 more earth months to go. I kiss her forehead, "I think we'll be great parents."
"To a teenager? On top of going to have a newborn? Don't forget we still have a continent to rule."
"Look me in the eyes, then tell me what you see." She does as I say, and I see her. Beautiful.
"I see an idiot."
"You married this idiot."
Her smirk grows, "We can adopt the teenager after the newborn."
"Really?" I answer too quickly.
"Maybe."
"Why after?"
"I can't drink until then."
We laugh with each other then sit in silence, thinking about nothing, something, and everything at once .
"Did you punch any alcoholics?"
"No, I kicked a drunk man."
"Nice."