I snored. “Sure. Fair enough. As long as you stay and buy another.”
“We can make that happen, ma’am.”
“This one’s on the house, then.” I finished wiping up the mess, chasing it with a wet towel to remove any sticky residue. “Let me top these up again.”
His eyes clung to me like a second skin.
Everywhere I went, every table I served, every patron I spoke to, he tracked me with his gaze.
It was nauseating.
I was suddenly hyper aware of my every action, my every movement, every breath that scraped in and out of my lungs.
I desperately wanted him to leave, if only for the fact that I hated being so in tune with my own actions. He made me pay more attention to myself, and I hated it.
I usually got lost in my work. Disappeared into it. Allowed it to sweep me away. But today, that wasn’t happening.
Because ofhim.
And he wouldn’tleave.
Hours passed, and still he sat. Tandor was off today, but I wished for his presence. If he were here, I might finally take him up on that offer to kick the stranger out.
He wasn’t necessarily bothering anyone—except for me. His presence bothered me immensely.
He prickled at my senses, snagged the edges of my awareness. No matter how hard I tried to ignore him, I could practically taste the flavor of his eyes on my skin. Could smell the smokey fragrance of his attention.
He oozed a strange sort of power that I couldn’t pinpoint. His presence demanded acknowledgement so insistently that I couldn’t even take a step without a part of me registering where that would put me in proximity to him.
Am I closer to him now? Farther? Can he see me from here?
Does helikewhat he sees?
I wasn’t sure why I cared.
I considered closing the pub early, if only to get him out. I wished for the space to take a deep breath again.
The corner he sat in was dark and deserted. The other folk kept a wide berth between themselves and him. I couldn’t blame them—I was doing the same thing.
When I passed his table, glancing at the glass of wine infront of him, it was still full. Only a sip or two had been taken. “Something wrong with the wine?” I asked.
His nose scrunched for a moment before smoothing out again. “No. It’s fine.”
“You didn’t pay for your wine last time. Should I add that to your tab for today?”
He tilted his head, confusion in his eyes. “Tab?”
“Your tab. When you pay for your drinks at the end of your visit. Your tab.” I didn’t know what part he wasn’t understanding.
“Tab,” he repeated. “To pay for my drinks? But they are for me, yes?”
“Yes. The drinks are for you. And you pay for them.”
“Pay with… gold?” he asked, his expression brightening.
I snorted. “Silvers will do fine. If you were ordering a hundred drinks, maybe then we’d bring out the gold.”
His brows furrowed, casting his golden eyes into shadow. “Ah. Right. Yes. Silvers.”
