NIKO MANNER had suggested this too. king’s tone was ambiguous and hard to read. she almost didn’t respond, but still shook her head, challenging him anyways. ”no, you’re tall.” she peered up again, wondering if she’d find humor anywhere in his face.

a real good time.

”i don’t trust you.” she was smiling, but it be the honest truth. ”like, at all.”

KING WAYLAND

she stared at king, gaze unsure but with a curious gleam. she knew that she was testing the waters of trouble in a new way.

they arrived. the route there was a little strange; a nondescript door at the bottom of a stairwell in an alleyway, which opened to a dimly lit concrete corridor. its long walls were riddled with symbols, names, messages, warnings. mostly typical graffiti, only recent events had inspired particularly unsettling illustrations of unown.

eventually, they reached another heavy metal door, and on the other side was ritual—the real version. when nina was ushered in, she was spooked by the doorman. towering, with mean eyes, and a thick beard that somehow didn’t hide his unfriendly scowl. luckily, he seemed to look right through her, recognizing king and not bothering them as they passed.

the inside was even darker. black leather couches were nestled away between mahogany dividers. there was romantic ambiance in the glow of stained-glass lamp fixtures, their soft beams casting spotlights across pool tables and other sleek surfaces. ribbons of smoke caught the light, wafting from spiced cigars while their owners remained otherwise bathed in shadow over their game of cards.

nina was decidedly uncomfortable, but she strode to a seat at the bar anyways. as she slid into the wooden stool, it felt as though she was turning her back to a pack of wolves in the dark. she tried not to pay it any mind.

”hi,” she greeted the bartender. slate milhaus’s gaunt old face looked more sunken in the chiaroscuro lighting as he peered across the bar for their orders, expression as lifeless as a ghost. being that king seemed to have already decided what they were drinking, nina looked towards him expectantly.

KING WAYLAND

perhaps even as an infant, slate had never smiled. he looked across at king, flat and sturdy as the bar-top beneath his old hands. king’s crudeness was a dead leaf on the breeze in his realm.

artists? ”truly.”

nina looked over as king gave his order, taken aback. what in the frat house?

”i’ll take a gin and tonic, please.”

slate went to work, neither surprised nor intimidated. meanwhile, nina was still wearing surprise on her face.

she smirked. ”is that all you’re getting?”

KING WAYLAND

oh. this was already more than she’d drank in one night in a very long time. given the location, she found herself even more nervous.

slate didn’t argue, merely going to work pouring the drinks with a flat expression.

nina wasn’t sure what to think about the look king gave her. the narrowed eyes... under the dim lamps of ritual, every face was bathed in shadow and sharp contours. before his grin broke, it raised the hairs on the back of her neck—but it was sort of thrilling.

”thanks.”

glasses slid across the bar-top, one after another. at his question, shook her head. ”i’ll be fine.”

KING WAYLAND

though she should have been turned off to someone like king, the fact that she had done such a thing for her drew her in. safety was something she rarely felt anymore. to have his protection was a strange and welcome relief.

she was quiet, giving a nod and then reaching for a couple of shots with a bite of her lip, still uncertain, but more and more willing to entertain his offerings.

his question caught her off-guard. her hand lagged on the bar a moment, before she finally offered one of the shots to him.

”i guess... maybe a little.” she blushed lightly. what was she saying?

it was kind of like being in a crime/action drama sometimes, though. the kind she used to watch with popcorn on her couch alone. still did, only these days, she fantasized about having the kind of confidence and power that some of those characters did. one day, maybe.

KING WAYLAND

his chuckle made her look at herself inwardly. should she be embarrassed? she obviously wasn’t intimidating. the scars maybe did something, but her eyes were too pure. it had been part of why she’d been so good at hustling people.

the brush of skin caused her to miss a beat, but she recovered quickly.

”i’ve been a criminal my whole life.” it was true, and her face showed it. she’d bet it was longer than he had been. for whatever reason, a small sense of pride welled in her chest. was this street cred?

she joined him, meeting his glass with a sharp clink before downing it. she coughed then, making a face. whiskey and bailey’s she didn’t mind so much, but beer wasn’t her favorite.

”no. i think that might be my last,” she laughed.

KING WAYLAND