The Pervert and the Bastard

“So what, we're plumbers now?" I said reading the banner text again.

“Wait, that sounds kind of boring.” he said. Scratching his head.

“It does, on top of it being weird as a quest.”

“Are you two done complaining?” She ripped the scroll out of my hands.

“No, what about the fact that we're still not armed?” I reasoned.

“Are you gonna fight the freshwater fish?” She said in a tone I didn't necessarily enjoy.

“I might. Who knows? Are you? You got a dagger there.” I point at the leather sheath on her belt.

"A dagger is a tool." She patted the handle.

“One, no it's not. Two, so is an axe, but I've seen it do more than just chop wood.”

“Yeah, you need a sword if I wanna go on an adventure.” He said pitching in.

“Ugh.” she groaned. “What do you want from me? You want coin? How much did you think I just spent buying this stuff?”

“No, I don't want your silver or copper. I want the guilds.” I made clear.

“We don't pay upfront. I told you this before.”

I rubbed my face. “You worked here, you must be able to pull some strings. It's not just weapons. We have literally nothing.”

“No, why would I–” She cut herself off and stood there for a moment. She pondered, then bit her nail. I guess her annoying attitude isn't her only bad habit. Then she smirked.

“I might know something.”

“Great.”

“But let's make a deal.” She interjected.

Less great.

“What could I possibly have to offer?”

“The coint that I'll be giving you.” She said placing a hand on her chest.

“You’re gonna haggle an orphan out of his coint?”

“You’re an adult, you lost that empathy card. Now listen up.” She extended her hand for a deal.

“You're treating me to any tavern we come across.”

“Like drink?”

“Both.”

“Drink and room?! What about him?” I pointed at my beloved companion.

“What about him?” she asked.

“Yeah, what about me?” They both looked at me.

“Dont you think it's a little unfair–”

“I don't really care; I'll give you both the pouch, split it or do whatever. I just want my room and food paid for.” She shrugged. I narrowed my eyes.

“Fine. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.” I took her hand and shook it. She smiled. Then wiped her hand on her skirt. Rude.

“I think so, too.” She said and then walked past me and towards a staff only door. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she turned to us.

“Stay, I'll be right back.”

“Not your dog.” She was gone before she heard me.

I sat down. These chairs were pretty nice and looked expensive too. The main area had become quiet, as the hoard of adventurers picked the notice board clean.

“So, what are we getting?” I thought about it for a moment before answering.

“Maybe I'll ask her. She seems to know what's up.” She was kinda right. Why would we need a sword? It wont help against hellspawn. Not a lot of bandits out there either.

“I would like a sword.” Of course you do.

“We'll see, depending on how much we have left after buying the basics.”

I sank in the chair.

“We should say goodbye later.”

“To whom?”

“What do you mean to whom? Where have you been for the last fifteen years?”

“Oh, yeah of course.” He mumbled.

“Dont you also have a girl to say bye to?” I asked.

“Oh, I already broke that off.” Ever the womaniser. This makes like two dozen, if it isn't more.

“What about Jules?” He asked.

“Don't talk about her after we just mentioned one of your girlfriends. And what about Jules?”

“How will you go about it?”

“I'll tell her we're leaving.” I grit my teeth. Just thinking about it made me dread it.

“Oh.” Damn right oh, I've been avoiding her since I got the news. I'd break her little heart.

“I'm sure she'll be alright.”

I heard footsteps on the overly detailed floor. There she is, Miss receptionist with quite the heavy pouch.

“Here you go.” She said, placing it in my hand.

“Good.” She rolled her eyes at the lack of praise.

I looked inside. It was more than I expected. Most of them are copper and a few silver.

“You didn't do anything illegal right?”

She gestured me closer. Your not helping your cause.

“I didn't, but I can tell you, Mr. Regional Manager has. And he most certainly doesn't want the guild to know that a decent chunk of funds goes to certain happy places.” She whispered.

“I see.” Nodding my head, I looked her dead in the eyes. Purple, I had noticed, but I hadn't really looked at them until now.

“And I don't have to worry about anyone coming after us? You know to make sure you don't squeak?”

“No.” She smiled.

“Why?”

“Because.” She winked. Purple and a little yellow.

She most definitely did something illegal. But I gotta ask.

"What's up with having two colours in each iris?”

“Huh? What's wrong with my eyes? Two colours are more than normal. Green and brown mix all the time!”

“Yeah, but yours are purple and yellow! Wait, who cares about the mixing? I haven't even seen natural purple before, let alone it being an eye colour."

“It's more common in the West. And quit talking about mine. Yours are painfully pale.” She said, pointing.

“I mean, your eyes are kinda scary.” My childhood friend told me.

“What? No one told me this before. Why am I hearing this now?”

“Like up close, you notice it's just very pale blue, but from any other distance you look kinda blind.” He recalled.

“Telling me now is wild. You've known me for almost fifteen years. No wonder people stay away from me.”

“No, that's just your behaviour. You kinda give me an ick if we weren't forced, together I wouldn't mind never talking to you again.” Thank you, my newly beloved party member. Remind me to leave you under a pile of rubble if you ever find yourself under one.

“I wasn't expecting to become insecure about my eyes today.” I concluded.

“You just tried that with me!” She said.

“I was curious.” Also, I know for a fact that purple eyes are not common, not even west. Purple is still from the old world before hell opened. I thought about it for a second.

“Are you a bastard?” Her mouth twitched.

“Woah, hey you don't just ask that.” He placed his hand between us. She shrugged.

“Why is that? Could it be that no country bumpkin could be as smart, cute, or even charming as me?”

I’m not so sure about that charming part.

“I mean it's fine if you are. His mother is a whore and my father a turn cloak you'll fit right in.” He nodded. Before catching on it wasn't really a compliment.

“Yeah, I mean, I would. Only I'm no bastard!” I looked at her: fair skin, proper posture, jewelry, and hair ornaments. But most importantly, educated and a job out of sight. Right here at the end of our world, in a small but still rich village.

“No, I think you're lying.” I concluded.

“Dammit, I'm not!” She stomped her foot. “And did you just check me out?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Gross.”

“What!” I backed up physically from the accusation. And had to fight the ironic urge to actually do it. “I was just talking to you, where else should I be looking? The ceiling?”

“Sure, whatever, pervert.”

“I am no pervert.”

“And I'm no bastard.”

After bickering for close to another hour, we were eventually told to leave the establishment.

“So,” I held up the pouch.

“So, what pervert?”

“So, dunno bastard, you gonna let me talk?”

“Feeling generous. Speak.” I gritted my teeth. I'll ignore it or we'll be at it for yet another hour.

Looking at the pouch, I realised I’ll need her help yet again. I have no clue what we need. I gave her a quick side eye. Dammit, my pride won't allow it.

“We're buying supplies.”

She nodded, “We're fond of supplies. So what kind of supplies?”

I looked around. The sun had fully risen over the mountains, and the morning cold was quickly fading. A lot of adventurers were buying stuff, some at the market, others at actual stores.

“You know the basic stuff.” I said.

“No, I'm not sure. Please, elaborate.” she said, raising an eyebrow.

I clenched my fist.

“Fine! I have no clue.”

“Oh, so do you need my help?” she said, pointing at herself.

“Yes.”

“Didnt catch that I also heard only one word instead of two.”

“Yes… please.”

“But of course I'll help.” She said, all graceful as if her help was actually charitable.

“Then let's get going.” She smiled. Swallowing my pride I walked after her. For better or worse, I don't think we’re in bad hands.