Amber woke, heated a few buckets of water over the fire, then bathed in a large wooden tub by her back window, shutters open to let in the fresh morning air and light from the suns dawn. Once finished bathing she toasted some bread over the same fire, grilled some grunter rump, fried a clucker egg, and ate it all at the table next to her bed with a tall wooden cup of spring pear juice. While eating she heard a loud noise from afar in the forest, possible the call of a Huntstan, but didn’t really think anything of it. Not the first time a Huntstan would be heard wandering these parts.

After breakfast she sifted about in her dresser drawers for too long before deciding on one of her many string strap tube-slip undergarments, covered then by a pale-purple and sleeveless semi-bell dress that barely reached her knees and had a frontal lace-up low-fit bodice to expose some upper cleavage. She at last fixed her hair and slipped on her favourite pair of woolen ankle boots and entered the second room of her house - which was in fact her leather shop - at the same time that her first customer for the day knuckled down hard on the door.

Closing the door to her living area behind her, she crossed the store swiftly, checked her look and her cleavage in the polished metal pane on the wall next to the entrance, then unlatched and swung open the door with a welcoming smile – a smile that quickly ran from her face when she saw the weirdo standing on her front landing.

She gasped.

The man was obviously some variety of eccentric madman, and likely a wealthy one too. He didn’t wear the usual long, heavily dyed cloaks of the wealthy, but his trousers were made of an exotic material Amber had never seen before, his torso coat was made of leather so very refined, and he was clean, cleaner than any man she had ever seen with not even trace of body odour. Atop all that, he was wearing some unknown and therefore likely expensive form of man’s perfume. She had met eccentric madmen before, and not once did the meeting turn out well.

He greeted her with ‘hello’ but she didn’t reply. She stood glaring, looking him up and down, assessing his daggers, sniffing the air a few times more to see if she could recall smelling that scent before. She couldn’t.

The man too started behaving a little awkwardly, shifting his weight to one leg and folding his arms, he even had a long gander at the exposed crease of her cleavage before thinking it was his obligation to try and remedy the situation with a thick, madman smile.

‘I’m Jack,’ he added, ‘just passing through town on a job. I need something crafted out of leather, maybe some new clothes as well… and I hear you might be the one to talk to about that?’

She slammed the door in his face.

No! no-no-no-no-no-no-no! Not again. Not now, this wasn’t about to happen. She had just gotten over her last affair, finally, after many months apart, she had at last entered that nice place where she no longer had him on her mind every moment of every damn day – and there was no way in Dahla’s wisdom that she was about to let some new eccentric and handsome madman derail her sanity like some wobbly mining cart.

Okay, she may have been overreacting, just a bit, she thought. After all, he did only turn up her door, said hello, requested they do some business. But he was an eccentric. An eccentric madman! Surely he was! But why did he have to be so handsome? And nice, nice too? Oh, my lord, and that smile, that smile melted here heart a little more each time it flashed through her mind – why do all the maniacs have to be so attractive? Why? Just why?

She paced the shop, the first aisle, then the second, then the first, then the second and so on and so forth, every detail of her brief encounter with Jack racing on a loop through her mind.

‘And what sort name is that - Jack??” she yelled, then suddenly stopped in her tracks and covered her mouth when she realised that - if he hadn’t yet left the front landing - he would have heard her. She paused to steady her breathing then peeked around the corner of a shop display to see if he was still at the door. The daylight spilling in under the crack of the door was broken at the center from his shadow. He was still there…. ‘He heard me….’ She whined. ‘Why won’t you leave? Leave. Please just go’

‘Please stay,’ a little voice in her head replied.

She almost choked on her own breath, horrified. ‘Don’t you dare get involved with this!’

Amber was now at one of the windows in her living area of the house, and although the shutters were closed, one of the louvers were loose and angled low enough at one end to form a crack she could peek out of. From there, hunched over and peering wide-eyed, she had a great view of the man, Jack. Yes, he was still standing on her front landing. Just standing there. Why? He wasn’t facing the house anymore, though, he was facing the street, he looked a bit confused. His brow was creased in thought. He rubbed his whiskered chin with thumb and finger. He took a moment to stare wonderingly at each building across the street. He spent more time staring at the Inn than any other building. He must have been wondering were to go from there - the Inn being the most alluring option at this point - as apparently being turned away from her store had set his plans off balance.

‘Typical eccentric,’ she said in a cussing tone.

‘Let him in,’ spoke the voice in her mind.

'No!' she hissed, 'just you shut up now, you hear?'

‘You know you want to,’ rebuked the voice, ‘why abstain from the things you desire?’

‘Shut up!’

‘You know you want him bad - just look at you, crouching and staring out the window at him. What the hell is wrong with you? Just let the poor guy in. He only wants to do some shopping.’

‘Just stop!’

‘I won’t stop, I know what you want.’

‘No, no you don’t!’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘No! You don’t!’ She snarled, hands forming into tight fists of frustration.

'Yes, I do,’ the voice insisted, ‘you want him so bad, so very bad, you want him in your shop, you want him in your house, you want him inside you.'

‘SHUT UP, YOU PERVERTED FOOL!!’

The man outside suddenly turned his head to look towards the window with an expression of both curiosity and caution. Not surprisingly, he had heard her shout. Now, even though he couldn’t have been able to see her in the darkness behind the crack in the louvers, it was like his eyes made direct contact with hers in that short moment before she found herself staggering backward, both hands covering her mouth. She tripped over a bucket and landed hard on the floor.

The man, Jack, left eventually. Amber followed him best she could through the louvers – that is after she picked herself up off the floor - and sure enough, as suspected, he entered the Greenfalls Inn across the street.

As she watched the door shut behind him, she instantly felt bad, but at least the voice in her head had shut the hell up. That damn inner voice, always seemed to turn up when least welcome. Not that it was every really welcome. Eventually, the guilt became too much, unreasonable even. She had turned people away from her shop before, but never had it played on her mind as much as this. She felt so bad that she decided not to trade at all that day. She just didn’t feel like facing anyone, and she sure didn’t want to take the chance of Jack returning. That would be embarrassing. She did, however, find it completely noble and reasonable in some undefined way to go find him at the Inn and apologise.

After tightening the laces of her bodice and slipping on her outdoor boots, she left her house and headed for Greenfalls Inn with a pronounced stride of determination.

Amber stood for a moment while the double doors of the Inn closed behind her with a solid thud. There weren’t a lot of patrons about, in fact there were very few, which wasn’t a surprise. Greenfalls was a small place, and it was still morning. Most drinking was done later in the day, roughly when most visitors, if there were to be any visitors, arrived to rent a room on their way through town.

Jarlin was there of course - since he owned the place – a stocky fifty-odd year old balding man standing behind the bar with his arms crossed, brow furled, lips tight, a small towel slung over his shoulder like a badge of office. As for actual patrons, one bar stool and two chairs of the ten tables in the whole establishment were occupied. Perched on the stool at the bar with his back to Amber was a man of thin build, a rich traveller type by the looks of his clothes, and from that angle Amber had no idea if she knew the man or not. On the main floor, at one of the tables, was a local fellow named Barnibalus, Jarlin’s most regular customer, who could more or less be found drinking at Greenfalls Inn so long as he was awake to do so. In the far corner, at the other table and with a view of the entire room, was the Jack fellow. He was sitting with a slight slump, one hand under the table, one hand resting on the table next to his mug. He was watching Marianna, Jarlin’s daughter, cleaning dishes at the far end of the bar until Amber walked in the door, which was when his discomforted attention shifted completely to her instead.

As she made her way towards the table his eyes darted left and right as if trying to make sense of the fact that this woman, the same woman who had recently slammed a door in his face, was now on rout to his table.

‘Can I sit with you?’ Asked Amber, hand assumingly on the backrest of the empty chair across the table from him.

Jack squinted thoughtfully, eyes deviated to the bartender for a few seconds.

‘It’s a free country,’ he said, ‘I mean, it is a free country… right?’

She drew the chair and dropped herself down in it.

‘Well that depends on who you might be talking to, stranger.’

‘And who am I talking to?’ said Jack, with an indulgent rise of one brow.

‘According to the sign above my shop my name is Amber,’ she replied acerbically, ‘can’t you read?’

Jack’s face dropped, the hand he had under the table was now placed on the table with the other, neither hand yet touching the mug between them. No actual indication that he had any intention of taking a drink.

He replied tartly, ‘As a matter of fact, woman, I can read, quite well. In any case, I had no need to read your unoriginal shop name to determine your own name because someone already told me who you were before I arrived - and consequently got the door slammed in my face. Thank you very much for your services?’

She ignored the derision. ‘Then why ask who I am if you already know?’

‘It’s called being polite,’ he grinned, ‘unlike slamming a door in someone’s face. Perhaps manners and courtesy and general politeness is an alien concept to you, then.’

She sighed. ‘Fine,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘just fine. I’m sorry, okay? I Mean…’ she sighed again and then rolled her eyes to the side as many people do when they lie; ‘I really shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Liar.’

‘Excuse me??’ She said, eyes snapping forward to glare at him in shock. ‘What was that you say?’

‘You’re a liar,’ he told her, making a show of speaking more slowly as one might talk to a simpleton to ensure they understand.

‘How dare you….’ Her voice whispered forth with astonished offense.

He stared at her, deadpan.

She stared back, derided.

They stayed staring like that for a while.

She finally asked. ‘And just how am I liar, you eccentric, crazy fool?’

‘You aren’t sorry, that’s how.’

‘And what makes you so entirely sure about that?’ she said, yet again overacting with a raise of both hands to show just how appalled she really wasn't.

‘I’m a professional at reading body language,’ said Jack, smiling smugly and finally gripping the mug with one hand, though he didn’t lift the drink from the table, ‘you can’t lie to me and expect me to believe you. You aren’t sorry for slamming the door in my face. The end. But that begs the question, doesn’t it? Just why did you come here to see me?’

'Tell him,' said the voice in her head, 'tell him how much you want him.'

‘No,’ said Amber, then pulled her mouth to one side as she looked at Jack, ‘I can’t tell you why.’ She slumped defeated, her previous exuberance wheezing out with her breath.

‘Well that’s handy,’ Jack smirked, ‘nothing like more honesty to get an informative conversation up and running.’ He paused, eyeballing the bartender and his daughter for a moment. ‘Would you like a drink? I've started a tab. Might as well take advantage of it.’

‘No, I’m fine.’ She thought hard for a moment, and added, ‘What’s a tab?’

‘It’s when you get things on credit, as in, I drink it now, the purchase is added to my bill, and I pay that bill off at a later time.’

She considered this.

‘So… you aren’t just passing through then? She bit her lip dubiously. ‘You plan on staying in Greenfalls for a while? Why? There is nothing here. It’s a transient stop-by, at best.’

‘I may or may not be staying,’ he told her, ‘but I do have a job that will be paying me soon, so wouldn’t need to stay long. Besides…’ he looked around attentively, ‘I see nothing wrong with this place. Nice, quiet town – village, should I say? Quite pretty, actually. I like it.’

‘It is pretty,’ she had to admit, ‘but there is nothing going on here. It’s small, the land is haunted so people don’t want to expand, and it will never be anything more than a small stop-by.’ She seemed heavily burdened by this. ‘…what I‘d give to get out of this town.’

Jack was very interested in the part about the land being haunted, but decided to pursue that topic at another time.

‘Why don’t you?’ He asked.

'Why don't I what?'

‘Why don’t you leave?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Try me.’

She queered at him and avoided the question by glancing at his drink. ‘You going to drink that or just hold it all day?’

Jack regarded the mug in his grip, the murky fluid inside, then gave a reluctant glance to the girl who was still cleaning dishes at the far end of the bar. ‘Tell me why you can’t leave town and I’ll tell you why I can’t bring myself to taking a drink from this cup.’

‘That… doesn’t seem like an even trade to me,’ she replied, ‘reasons why I live my life how I live my life can hardly be compared to why someone won’t take a drink from their cup.’

‘You might be surprised….’ He thought for a moment, giving a furtive glance to the crease in amber's cleavage. ‘I’ll go first if you promise to tell me after.’

'Before I answer,’ she said, ‘tell me something. Are you thirsty?’

‘Yes, I am.’

She smiled vaguely and then gave her best compromising expression, ‘You know what? I would really like to know why a thirsty man refused to drink his drink. So fine, you got a deal – Tell me first, then I’ll tell you.’

In answer, Jack shifted his eyes toward the girl at the bar again. ‘I have strong doubts that I can take a sip from this cup without coming down with some deadly stomach bug.’

Amber’s pretty eyebrows almost switched position with the strained look of consternation she gave him.

‘What are you talking about?’ Amber spoke so softly it was barely audible.

Jack asked, ‘What’s her name?’ He referred to the girl at the bar.

‘You mean Marianna, Jarlin’s daughter?’

‘Ah, Marianna,’ Jack confirmed and explained. ‘See, Amber, since I arrived, I’ve been watching Marianna attempting to wash the cups and plates that I suspect have been used by customers yesterday. Now, the act itself isn’t a bad thing – of course it’s good to keep things clean for the clientele. But the problem I have is that the water in the bucket she is using to dunk the dishes in is so dirty that it’s brown. I can’t even see a trace of soap in it, either. And the towel she is using to wipe the dished dry looks like it has never seen the inside of a cleaning tub itself. Basically, it would have been more hygienic not to wash the dishes at all. I have no idea how you people manage to survive under these conditions.’ He paused to frown, conceding, and added, ‘But I get it. You have very little hygienic awareness. But I’m sure your immune systems are strong as hell, stronger than mine would be under the same conditions. So yeah… I’m feeling a little reluctant at the moment.’

Amber was lost for words about this, having understood about 1% of what he had just told her. ‘Okay…’ she said, ‘…so I was right, then. You really are an eccentric crazy man. Where are you from, Jack?’ She asked the question leaning back in her seat as if she had just learned that she was talking to an escaped lunatic.

Jack sighed. ‘A long, long, very long way away from here. I doubt you would have heard of it. And, yeah,’ he didn’t appear offended or surprised, ‘I can see how someone in your position would see me as eccentric.’

‘So what are going to do for a drink?’ She had to ask.

He shrugged. ‘I’ll probably just go down to the river. Seems safer.’

‘Ah….’

They stared at each other for a long while, and it became apparent that she had forgotten her end of the deal.

‘Your turn to spill,’ he reminded her.

She appeared confused for a moment, then remembered. ‘Oh, yes right, of course.’ She gathered her thoughts, quickly rehearsing her story in her mind before sharing….

Amber had an idea, an idea simply to ensure that Jack was not actually a man who could tell when people were lying. So she lied to him, about mostly everything she was about to say, and by doing so – assuring he didn’t catch her out on it – she would prove, if only to herself for the sake of peace of mind, that he did not always know when people were lying.

‘I don’t know my real parents.’ She said, looking him dead in the eyes. ‘I was adopted and raised by a man that abused me in every way a person can be abused, and in every way a girl can be abused as well. If you know what I mean…. He made me feel like nothing. Every day. Felt like nothing. Good for nothing. Then… when he died, at last, I was stuck. Stuck in Greenfalls, stuck in the house he left me, unable to move on because I don’t feel like I can do it alone. Somewhere deep inside me, sometimes, I feel like I could do it - I could leave and be strong on my own in this word. But in the end his voice in my head keeps telling me I can’t. I just can’t. I’m good for nothing. And his voice always wins. I’m… just scared that if I do try… that somehow life itself with punish me and abuse me just like he did. So I stay, in his house, where I’m safe. Where life can’t hurt me like he did.’

Jack’s face slowly dropped in a depressed lull. By time Amber stopped speaking he felt a twisting knot of anger in his chest towards her father and what he had done to her. He wanted to kill people like that. In his sombre regard of her, lost in his pity for her, he took up his mug and had a sip from it.

‘That’s…’ He cleared his throat as he placed the mug back on the table. ‘I’m really sorry that happened to you.’

Amber instantly felt bad that through her lie she had invoked such troubled in Jack. He must have had a good heart, if nothing else, despite his eccentric tendencies. At the same time, she couldn’t now tell him the truth. She wanted to, but she just couldn’t. She felt like if she did tell him now he would be become angry and never trust her again. And besides, in some weird way, she was enjoying the sympathy.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Amber, ‘I hardly think about it anymore. Really. It’s fine.’

Jack obviously didn’t agree. The swelling anger inside him was become vividly clear in the reddening of his face and the grinding of his teeth, while the grip on his mug was starting to turn his fingers white.

She was starting to feel concerned, that maybe she should actually tell him the truth before he exploded and killed someone – but just before she opened her mouth to do so, he opening his instead, changing the subject as it were, by asking: ‘You said this land was haunted, Amber. What did you mean by that?’

She relaxed, resting forward with elbows on the table. ‘I think I’ll have that drink after all’ she said and gave Jarlin a little wave to call him to the table. Settling her eyes back on Jack, she faintly smile. ‘Yeah, so, um. Yeah. The forest around Greenfalls, the land itself actually, is said to be haunted. Most people believe it.’

‘Haunted how?’ He asked, ‘By what?’

‘Ghosts and things,’ said amber with a twist of her face, as though it should have been self-explanatory.

‘Okay…’ he said, glancing down at his mug with a grimace, as he realised he had just taken a drink from it unintentionally.

‘This area is home to an ancient burial site. Underground tombs. It’s quite a vast structure made of hundreds of crypts that go on for miles. People say it is the ghosts from those crypts that haunt the land. This town, actually…,’ she paused a moment to consciously take her voice down an octave or two, ‘was actually built on one of the entrances to the crypts. The Blacksmith, Torn, I understand by the daggers on your belt that you have met him?’

Jack nodded, listening.

‘Torn’s father was a renowned adventurer type.’ She continued. ‘He discovered the entrance and built a house on it. Apparently he was wanting to study the tombs without people knowing about it, so the house was built to hide the entrance from anyone who might wander by. Something like that. Other wanderers did come along eventually. Of course, as Torn’s father had hoped, they didn’t catch wind of what he was hiding, but unfortunately it did backfire on him. Some of the other wanderers decided that he had picked a really nice spot to build his house. So they went ahead and built their own homes. A few years later a small town was here. A road was built into town. Greenfalls became a stop-by town on a new shortcut rout to the Western cities. Naturally, it was only after Greenfalls became established that people realised it was actually built on an ancient burial site. Which also did a lot to explain why a lot strange things had been happening.’

‘Strange things?’ Jack asked.

‘Yeah, strange things, like apparitions at night in the woods, sometimes in town as well. Objects moving on their own. People dying from unknown causes. And a lot of travellers passing through the area also went missing, still do.’

Amber paused when Jarlin finally arrived at their table and paced a cup in front of her, gave her a friendly nod, told her it was her usual. She thanked him kindly and he walked back to the bar.

She sipped her drink while staring at Jack, who was waiting for her to continue.

‘Not much else to say,’ she told him.

Jack remembered what Theolan had told him when he found Jack on the side of the road that morning, that "It is not safe to be sleeping on the side of this particular road. You should know this, unless you are not from around these parts.” Apparently Theolan was referring to the dangers Amber was now talking about.

‘If it’s so dangerous around here,’ Jack wondered, ‘then why do people still take this rout? I mean, there had to be other ways to get to the western cities before this road was laid, right?’

‘Good question,’ she laughed lightly, took a second sip of her beverage, ‘and it has a good answer. This rout really does cut a lot of time out of ones journey if they are in a rush. Plus, a lot of people tend to be attracted to the dangers around here, for whatever reason they might have. So if people aren’t in a hurry, or they don’t care much for the sense of peril that this land has to offer, they take the old routs. Simple as that.’

‘I see…’ Jack was tuning the information over in his head.

‘Yeah…’

Candice started to eyeball the bandage on Jack’s left hand. When she first arrived he had that hand on his lap out of sight under the table. Now that she was looking harder at it, she could see a trace of blood coming through the fabric of the bandage. The bandage itself was also of a material similar, but certainly not the same as the material normally used on wounds. She also noticed that on top of his shoulder there was a tear in the leather of his jacket, and another drop of blood could be seen in the hole of that tear.

‘So what happened to you?’ She eventually asked, and gave a nod to the bandage on his hand, a glance to his torn jacket. It was then that she did for the first time also take note of a trace of light-blue power around the rear sides of his neck. Before he answered, right after she asked the question, the residue of powder had already answered her. She giggled at the realisation, and asked, 'Did you encounter a Chilli?'

‘If by Chilli you mean a vicious little winged vermin that rips your skin off with its fucking razor sharp claws while screaming like a demon and breathing ice… then yeah, I did indeed encounter one of those.’

Amber snorted, body jiggling and twisting a little as she tried to refrain from laughing hard.

She said, ‘You say that like you’ve never seen one before.’

‘I haven’t,’ Jack told her straight, ‘similar things, maybe, actually some pretty crazy shit, but never one of these.’

‘Well at least you survived, that’s a bonus, right? Most people aren’t lucky enough to actually interact with one, most they can hope for is seeing one pass by or something. Count yourself luck.’

He lowered his brow, finding her words peculiar.

She thought for a moment before saying, ‘You act like you have never even heard of one before.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘Wait…’ said Amber, body twisting now out of strong curiosity instead of amusement, ‘How could you have never heard of one before?’

He stared quietly at her.

‘That’s weird,’ she said, ‘everyone knows about Chilli’s. They’ve been around for... for, since before people have. Some of the most famous literature was written about them. Never hearing of a Chilli before is like not knowing what an Aminje is.’

‘A what?’ He asked her.

She pushed back in her seat again, this time with a screwing up of her nose, as if picking up on a foul scent she wanted to distance herself from.

‘Are you teasing me?’ She asked.

‘No.’ Jack replied. He pushed his mug aside as though readying himself for a serious conversation. He coupled his hands together on the table.

‘Where are you from, Jack?’

‘A very long way away from h –‘

‘No!’ She cut him off. ‘You said that already. Give me a name. I want you to tell me where you’re from.’ She paused. ‘Please.’

Jack answered, ‘Space.’

She queered at him. ‘Space?’ She looked around as if to analyse the air surrounding them. ‘Is that some sort of clever remark about the air surrounding us all? Or… is space actually the name of the place you are from?’

Jack considered this for a moment before replying. ‘I see “space” holds an entirely different connotation for you than it does for me.’ He reconsidered his answer, and said, ‘I was born and raised in a place called Bundaberg.’

‘And where is Bundaberg?’ She narrowed her eyes.

‘On another world. In a future Era.’

Amber played with this thought for a while, eyes jittered left and right as if speed reading an invisible scroll. Jack stared flatly at her, observing, watching the subtle expressions of her face change with the progress of her thought process. In the end her eyes widened, partly quizzical, partly angry.

‘And what might this other world be called?’ She asked him. Her tone was impatient, irritated, patronising, like she were addressing a child with an overactive imagination and couldn’t shut up about it.

‘Earth.’ He said, continuing to stare at her soberly.

The legs of Amber's chair scraped across the ground as she pushed away from the table to stand up and leave.

‘So you did know I was lying.’ She concluded with a shake of her head. ‘Why didn’t you just say so?’ She thought a little more about it. ‘You know what, I’ve suddenly got a bad feeling about you, and I really don’t see why telling me where you are from is such a big problem for you. What could it hurt? Looks like we can’t trust each other then, huh? You eccentric type are all the same.’

She started to push up from her seat to leave. He reached quickly across the table and grabbed her by the wrist.

‘No,’ he said, glaring at her with all seriousness, ‘let me show you I’m telling the truth. He paused to release her wrist, and added, ‘I need someone here to know who and what I am. I trust you….’

Amber, less apprehensive than she was letting on, decided to stay and see what Jack had to show her. She couldn’t very well not give in to her curiosities, after all.

His duffel bag was taken from the floor, now placed on the table between them. Amber possibly displayed more intrigue for the zip function of the duffel bag than she would for its actual contents. Bag open, Jack tapped his finger on the handgun sitting on top of the other items inside.

She shrugged. ‘What is it?’

He stayed quiet a beat, thinking he didn’t know why he was expecting more of a reaction from her.

‘It’s a futuristic weapon.’ He told her.

‘What’s it called?’

‘It’s a gun.’

‘It is well crafted steel, I’ll say that much,’ She squinted and looked the weapon over like she were analysing a peculiar species of rodent. ‘Never seen that sort of design before. Somebody knew what they were doing. But that doesn’t mean it’s from the future. Torn could maybe craft something like that if given enough time.’

‘You make it sound easier than it actually would be -’ said Jack, ‘it isn’t actually steel, to start with. This particular weapon is crafted largely of a special advanced material we call polymer. But I can see how you might think it is some type of unique steel. And it isn't just fancy workmanship, either. Everything has to be of exacting measurements, not the slightest bit out.’

She considered this.

‘Okay, I’ll entertain you,’ she said, ‘Why are you showing me?’

‘Because this is why I came to see you. I want you to make a holster for me. It’s like a sheath for a knife or sword, only to hold a gun.’

She queered at him thoughtfully and then reached in the bag for the gun, wanting a better look. As her hand grabbed the gun he quickly grabbed her wrist again to stop her. His eyes darted to the bar where Theolan had taken a break from drinking to look over his shoulder at the pair. His own curiosity was peaking. He had been glancing over at them and attempting to listen in on their conversation since Amber arrived. The pompous man now looked like curiosity was going to get the better of him. And it did. As Amber looked over at Theolan to see why Jack had stopped her, she saw Theolan rise from his stool, drink in hand, and started walking towards their table.

Before Theolan arrived, the bag was zipped closed with gun hidden inside. Jack and Amber sat back in their seats, casually pretending nothing was a matter. Theolan stood by the table, looking down his nose at them both, apparently awaiting an invitation to join them.

‘Welcome to Greenfalls.’ Said Amber.

Theolan nodded his greeting, looked at Jack.

‘Can we help you?’ Jack asked.

Theolan raised one brow conceitedly. ‘Hardly,’ he said, ‘was simply wondering if you wished to share in a drink.’ He looked at one of the vacant chairs at the table. He looked at Jack, at Amber, wondering when they were going to do the courteous thing and invite him to sit. After a little while the look on his face suggested he was starting to feel embarrassed for standing there so long without invitation. ‘I see you made it to town safely, then.’ He said to Jack.

‘Yeah, you noticed,’ Jack replied, looking down at himself before regarded Theolan with an exasperated look, ‘And for the love of god, just sit down if you want to sit down so badly.’

Theolan pretended returned courtesy with a nod and took a seat. His skinny butt wriggled as he settled in the chair. He pulled a drink from his cup, then set it on the table. He regarded them both, then regarded the duffle back, which was still on the table.

‘So….’ Theolan requested in an assuming tone, ‘…what may be the topic of conversation?’

Jack and Amber looked at each other. Amused grins.

After an uncomfortably long period of Theolan receiving no answer to his question, he decided to persist with further enquiries. Directing his first to Jack.

‘Soon after I left you by the side of the road, I did hear a rather large blast-like sound. It did come from roughly your location. At first I thought it was a call of a Huntstan, perhaps, though it did not take me long to think better of it. Although it has happened before, it is ever doubtful a Huntstan should be wondering these part. May I ask what the sound was, do you know, Mr. Jack?’

Jack appeared a little bored, a result of his mild disdain for the man. He slightly shrugged one shoulder and replied. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Very well.’ Said Theolan, turning his prying glare toward Amber. ‘And how about you, my dear lady? Did you hear the sound I speak of?’

Amber had heard it, yes, while taking a bath earlier. But she somehow didn’t feel right in that moment telling Theolan about it. More than anything, like Jack, she just wasn’t appreciating his self-important presence.

She said, ‘I didn’t hear anything, either.’

‘Intriguing,’ said Theolan, ‘because as it happens I have already taken the liberty of asking a few others in town if they had heard the noise, all of whom had indeed heard it. Seems odd that neither of you did.’

‘Intriguing, sure.’ Jack said, voice flat, a note of mockery.

‘Were the two of you acquainted before today?’ Asked Theolan, looking to Jack, then to Amber. ‘Previously friended? Lovers, perhaps?’

Amber snorted.

Jack chuckled.

‘Excuse me?’ said Amber, ‘I don’t see how that is any of your business, stranger.’

Jack’s body continued to jiggle a little, quietly chuckling.

‘I mean no disrespect, naturally.’ Theolan sipped his drink. ‘Despite Jack’s obvious need for attention and his general lack of attractive qualities, I did not find it too farfetched to consider the prospect of intercourse with the opposite sex. Possibly.’ He paused to look Amber up and down, slowly, undressing her with his eyes. ‘Love making, after all, is perfectly natural. Is it not?‘ He smiled something wet and unpleasant and sleazy, and then introduced himself to her, apparently still in love with the sound of his own name. ‘My name is Theolan, Sir Mallicone Starlip Theolan. And you might be, pretty lady?’

That was it for Amber. She was already put off by Theolan inviting himself to their table. Rude still was the unneeded insult to Jack. And now Theolan was quickly turning into a pompous sleaze. She stood from her chair without answering his question, and gave Jack a soft jerk of her head to suggest they should leave.

‘We were just about to leave,’ she told Theolan, ‘enjoy your trip to wherever it is you’re going.’

Jack smiled, still a little humoured by the whole event – not insulted by Theolan’s remark - and raised from his seat as well. He took the bag from the table and slung it over his shoulder. He followed Amber out the door.

Theolan watched them leave, saying no more.