Ash 3, 121
Franky saw him moving carefully through the crowd, not looking to bump anyone more than absolutely necessary. The hobgoblin reached behind him, grabbing the bottle of Ecithian Rye Whiskey off the top shelf, pouring a very stiff glass of the dark liquor, setting it on a tray. He prepared to move to the only empty table close to the bar, as the man had been preferring every night for the last two weeks. But much to Franky's surprise, the man sat at an empty seat at the bar, and a slight grin formed on Franky's face. He plucked the whiskey from the tray and carried it over, setting it before the man.
"I was wondering if you'd ever make it up to the bar in your campaign away from the door."
The man smirked a bit, setting out the coins before taking the drink, "Nothing gets past you."
Franky turned around, grabbing the same bottle, pouring himself another glass as well. He had seen the man coming in every evening for nearly a full season now. Every single day the Gobbler was open. He came in, ordered the same whiskey, drank it in silence and alone. He was never rude when someone spoke to him, but he himself spoke very little. He never once sought out companionship of any form. The man never got aggressive and seemed to actively avoid the occasional brawls that broke out.
Franky held out the glass, and the man raised his own, held in a robotic hand, and clinked it, and they both tossed back a gulp. "I suspect that mine eyes aren't the only ones that have been paying attention around here." The man gave a half chuckle, "I will say, it's been interesting watching you and that lass of yours scramble about for the last season."
A sly grin on Franky's face, "Oh, its been a helluva couple of seasons for sure. It was even worse before Millie decided she wanted to work here." The hobgoblin filled several more flagons, passing them out at the bar. Millie wasn't working tonight, and with how busy it was, patrons had to come to the bar for service.
"Was that the night you brought that goblin band in? I think she vomited under my table." He finished his first glass and set it there on the bar. Franky filled it up once more, leaving the bottle on the bar, taking the coins. He didn't bother to open a tab for the man, despite knowing he was good for it. He always paid up front and there was no reason to rock the boat.
"Sure was. I'm pretty sure that may have been the first, and only, time she's ever gotten drunk."
They both shared a soft chuckle on that. Franky didn't push though. This man took the long way to come to the bar, Franky would let him come to him. He went back and forth along the bar, wiping down flagons. Order after order came, and Franky rushed about to fill them all. It was so busy and was only picking up, Franky felt like he was back in his training days, with his sisters being so demanding.
He dipped back into the kitchen, making up several plates of the slow cooked meat and the various vegetables and the bread from this morning. He carried them out, handed them out to the people who had been waiting at the bar. He rushed back and forth, over and over, until he finally had another small lull. He stopped back over at the man, picking up his own drink and draining it. He topped it off, offering up for the man, who finished his and nodded.
"You're a bit old to be working that hard. And Millie's a bit young."
Franky let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Don't I know it. Millie's part time, she's got studies and another job, but she's been punchin' above her weight class since she got here." Franky took another drink, "We got busier and more popular, more quickly than expected. When I opened, I figured we'd just be a hole in the wall, with a few regulars, like yourself. An easier retirement."
But the man saw the bit of a sparkle in Franky's eyes, "You don't want easy. Imperial?"
Franky laughed, nodding, "You local?"
The man nodded, "At least we never had to deal with you all at the borders. Probably would've lost more than a couple of arms." He laughed and Franky joined in, "Aye. I lost my hair and my green and got off lucky. Doubt that would've been the case if the March had come this way."
The man snorted, "Up through Dalquia would be suicide, even for the 'might Imperium'."
Franky's smile softened, "Yeah, but they were definitely thinking about it. Still are, probably."
There was a long silent and a shared drink between the two. Then the man sought another refill and Franky obliged, topping off his own. Then the man held up his glass, and Franky matched, "My name's Weston." Franky smiled, "I'm Franky." They clinked glasses and shared another drink.
"Let me guess. You're too busy to actively go around hiring people? That why Millie had to come to you herself?"
Franky did a half nod and shrug, "Yeah, pretty much. The customers that like it here don't want to ruin that by working here, so its not exactly a good pool for applicants."
Weston chuckled lightly, muttering into his drink, "Typical."
Franky set his drink down, and went about his rounds of supplying drinks, cleaning flagons, and fetching plates of food as the time ticked on. It was late in the night now and the crowd was beginning to thin out. When he stopped back by Weston, "You just got out didn't you, when you started coming here?"
Weston nodded, "Yeah, I was told retirement was best spent using your pension to drink into an early grave. Had nothing else to do, so why not?"
Franky could see between those lines, a soldier without purpose, a man without family, a commander without subordinates. It was all there. Time to be a bit more aggressive, this man was mulling on all the things he no longer had. Time to offer up a new path.
A jest on his lips, "Well, if you're so bored, why don't you man the bar so I can go hire people?" This brought a wide grin on the other's face, "My knowledge is on the drinking part, not so much the pouring."
Franky leaned back against the bar behind him, arms crossed as he swirled his rye, "But I bet you know people, probably had a fair bit of soldiers in your command."
Weston shrugged, "I suppose. Not enough to keep my post after getting these fuckin' things."
That made sense to Franky. If they couldn't tolerate other races or mages in the higher ranks of the military, they sure wouldn't tolerate cripples and others with severe injuries. "So try out my style of retirement."
This time the man snorted into his drink, "Open a tavern? I'd rather spend my coin how I am."
A teasing grin upon the hobgoblin's face as his eyes fell on the man's over the top of his glass, "Nah. Come here. Help me run this ship, find me some people to hire. I don't know if you noticed, but you can do this job while drinking, definitely one of the better perks."
Weston set down his drink, a long look, "You know I'm human, right? In Zaichaer?"
The grin of a predator, having cornered his adversary, "So is Millie, and she certainly wasn't too afraid."
The man feigned offense, though there was a bit there behind the eyes, "And why would you want a drunk?"
Franky finished his drink, setting the empty glass before Weston, palms on the bar, "Because real drunks don't keep an eye out for the well-being of barmaids they don't know. They certainly don't take the time to watch and observe before getting involved with anything." Franky stood up tall now, "And they definitely don't let something like moronic commanders and busted arms stop them from living."
Weston was quiet a long time. There was defiance and affront in his eyes, but also a fire burning behind them now. He finished his drink, setting it down on the counter, standing up, "I'm leaving." He whirled on his cloak, "Have a goodnight Franky."
"Have a goodnight, Weston."
As the man turned away, he couldn't hide his grin any longer. He took a few steps, turning back, "You know, you Imperial bastards really don't know anything about people." Franky cocked his head to the side curiously, "So I suppose you need all the help you can get. Not your fault, you're just Imperial is all. I'll be back in the morning to discuss terms, when I'm sober."
A sly grin formed on Franky's face, followed by a snort, "See you when we're sober."
