Arc 716, 16th Trial of Ashan
An inn. Ye Old Inn, to be exact. A right, proper place to fit it.
Straightening his back, András prepared to open the door to the establishment, but paused as his hand reached for the handle. Did the poor have such impeccable posture? The young nobleman glanced over his shoulder, watching a number of commoners mill by on the streets. Of course not! They weren't trained like dogs to keep their heads high. Not when you could step into someone's chamber pot if you took your eyes off the ground. Andráska relaxed, smiled to himself and pushed open the door.
Midday, with only a number of people about. Mostly drunks, and those without much interest in the standard hours of a job. He moved further inside, noticing the worn floors, the warmth of the fireplace, and rustic feel of it all. How delightful, he mused to himself, surprisingly not feeling out of place. No one spared him more than a glance, for the most part. Look at me, being poor. This is fun.
András moved languidly to the bar, sliding into a seat nearby a couple of sailors who had the attention of the barkeep. She looked up at his arrival and her eyes lit up. Chatting quickly to the other two, she grabbed her tray and made her way to stand besides him, "Haven't seen you here before," she said with a light tone, placing a hand on her hip, "And I remember a handsome face." She smiled at him, and András couldn't help by smile back.
"Are you flirting with me?" he teased, taking in her appearance. She was perhaps towards her late twenties, full bodied with wide hips and full breasts. Her hair was a dirty blonde, thrown into a wild bun and her outfit was simple in make. An apron hung from her corseted waist and he rested an elbow on the bar, turning his body to face her, "'Cause if you are, I accept."
She laughed, "You talk kinda funny. But I like it," she winked, "Can I get you anything to eat? Something to drink?"
András pondered the question. Wine was nice enough, and he liked a shot or two of a nice brandy. But he wasn't here to get drunk and if he was being honest, he didn't know what one usually got at a place like this. It most certainty was not the pissy posh wineries he'd been raised attending. He just needed to observe, "Some... ale?" That's what some of the stable boys used to drink when they were off the job, so he hoped he guessed correctly. When she nodded and walked away with no further comment on his choice, he relaxed.
Glancing to his right, he watched the sailors. They grumbled about work, about the hours, about the damn taxes. Problems by the lower class were almost always about money or time. 'Hate to be the baron of bad news, fellas, it's the same the richer you are.' He kept his eyes moving around the room, as to not let the sailors in on his eavesdropping. They mentioned a few shipments here and there, but not much else.
He tried not to frown, disappointed that this place wasn't a hub of juicy gossip. 'What? Grown men don't talk shit any chance they get? No? Just arrogant dukes?' András tapped his fingers impatiently on the edge of the table in front of him.
When the barmaid returned, she slapped a full glass of ale in front of him, leaning in from the other side of the bar so that her ample chest was clear for him to see. She smiled sweetly, noticing nothing, and attempted a friendly approach, "So, do you have a name, or will I have to guess it?"
It was then the idea struck him. 'If anyone knows a secret, it's you.' Still enjoying her attention, András leaned forward as well, till their faces were inches apart. He could see the soft imprint of crows feet beginning to line her eyes. She smiled a lot, he realized. He liked that. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours." He grinned, reaching for the drink she still had her hand around. His fingers touched hers and he met her eyes.
"Gina," she whispered, her breath hinting of having smoked tobacco. It made András nearly ask for a smoke.
"Gina," he repeated, nodding and preparing his lie, "They call me Andre."
They held their stare a moment longer till she pulled back with some reluctance, "Andre," she nodded, "It suits you."
He beamed, pleased and lifted the drink in her honor, trying to think of a way to push her for a little information. A little rumor. Maybe a lead. "Cheers, love."She smiled, and he began to drink.
An inn. Ye Old Inn, to be exact. A right, proper place to fit it.
Straightening his back, András prepared to open the door to the establishment, but paused as his hand reached for the handle. Did the poor have such impeccable posture? The young nobleman glanced over his shoulder, watching a number of commoners mill by on the streets. Of course not! They weren't trained like dogs to keep their heads high. Not when you could step into someone's chamber pot if you took your eyes off the ground. Andráska relaxed, smiled to himself and pushed open the door.
Midday, with only a number of people about. Mostly drunks, and those without much interest in the standard hours of a job. He moved further inside, noticing the worn floors, the warmth of the fireplace, and rustic feel of it all. How delightful, he mused to himself, surprisingly not feeling out of place. No one spared him more than a glance, for the most part. Look at me, being poor. This is fun.
András moved languidly to the bar, sliding into a seat nearby a couple of sailors who had the attention of the barkeep. She looked up at his arrival and her eyes lit up. Chatting quickly to the other two, she grabbed her tray and made her way to stand besides him, "Haven't seen you here before," she said with a light tone, placing a hand on her hip, "And I remember a handsome face." She smiled at him, and András couldn't help by smile back.
"Are you flirting with me?" he teased, taking in her appearance. She was perhaps towards her late twenties, full bodied with wide hips and full breasts. Her hair was a dirty blonde, thrown into a wild bun and her outfit was simple in make. An apron hung from her corseted waist and he rested an elbow on the bar, turning his body to face her, "'Cause if you are, I accept."
She laughed, "You talk kinda funny. But I like it," she winked, "Can I get you anything to eat? Something to drink?"
András pondered the question. Wine was nice enough, and he liked a shot or two of a nice brandy. But he wasn't here to get drunk and if he was being honest, he didn't know what one usually got at a place like this. It most certainty was not the pissy posh wineries he'd been raised attending. He just needed to observe, "Some... ale?" That's what some of the stable boys used to drink when they were off the job, so he hoped he guessed correctly. When she nodded and walked away with no further comment on his choice, he relaxed.
Glancing to his right, he watched the sailors. They grumbled about work, about the hours, about the damn taxes. Problems by the lower class were almost always about money or time. 'Hate to be the baron of bad news, fellas, it's the same the richer you are.' He kept his eyes moving around the room, as to not let the sailors in on his eavesdropping. They mentioned a few shipments here and there, but not much else.
He tried not to frown, disappointed that this place wasn't a hub of juicy gossip. 'What? Grown men don't talk shit any chance they get? No? Just arrogant dukes?' András tapped his fingers impatiently on the edge of the table in front of him.
When the barmaid returned, she slapped a full glass of ale in front of him, leaning in from the other side of the bar so that her ample chest was clear for him to see. She smiled sweetly, noticing nothing, and attempted a friendly approach, "So, do you have a name, or will I have to guess it?"
It was then the idea struck him. 'If anyone knows a secret, it's you.' Still enjoying her attention, András leaned forward as well, till their faces were inches apart. He could see the soft imprint of crows feet beginning to line her eyes. She smiled a lot, he realized. He liked that. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours." He grinned, reaching for the drink she still had her hand around. His fingers touched hers and he met her eyes.
"Gina," she whispered, her breath hinting of having smoked tobacco. It made András nearly ask for a smoke.
"Gina," he repeated, nodding and preparing his lie, "They call me Andre."
They held their stare a moment longer till she pulled back with some reluctance, "Andre," she nodded, "It suits you."
He beamed, pleased and lifted the drink in her honor, trying to think of a way to push her for a little information. A little rumor. Maybe a lead. "Cheers, love."She smiled, and he began to drink.