Ris snorted, Tate's description of the events matching Ainsley's too closely for it to have been anything but the truth.
"You know, I never apologized to you for that night. I'm sorry you were here to be caught up in all that, and I'm very glad you weren't injured."
Her stomach flip-flopped again at the memory, the spine rattling the terror she'd felt, and the certainty she’d felt that the orc standing in front of her was going to swallow them all whole.
"I'm glad he was here that night, otherwise I might have been."
"He always manages to turn up when you don't think you need him, but you're glad to see him just the same. You’ll not be able to keep him out, you know. If that’s what you intended. He’s a dab hand at getting under the skin. One minute you think you’re having a drink with a mate, and next he’s chewed his way into your heart, and there’s no scraping him out after that. Believe me, I've tried."
She laughed at the mental image of Ainsley as a sort of parasite. The slender orc was right, she was forced to admit, for she’d spent more time thinking of his friend in the past week alone than she had about any other man in her life, and could easily envision him shrunken to bug size, making himself a snug, cozy spot in her heart.
"So if thatiswhat you've intended, you'll not be successful."
"I thought he was going to need to call you to bail him out of jail again for a minute tonight," she admitted with a laugh. "Our hosts really did not respect their own rules."
His bark of laughter was sharp, bouncing between the hanging pendants above their heads.
"Absolutely daft, both of you. I'd have let him rot for the night, maybe then a lesson might be learned."
"Oh, you would not have, you big liar." Ainsley returned to the table, giving the other orc his best glare. "Don't let him fool you, Ris. Squishy marshmallow center, this one. Oh good, you brought us something cold to drink. I brought the chips."
She laughed again, somewhat doubting the veracity of Ainsley's claim. The icy bottle was an Elvish spritzer, she realized, in surprise. Imported water from a sacred spring, carbonated with botanicals and floral extracts, and a healthy slug of a high-proof alcohol, the last thing in the world she would've expected to find in an Orcish pub. She listened to the two men chatter and laugh: heard the details of a party taking place in the city the following weekend, to which Ainsley had not been invited, that Tate grumbled he didn’t have a choice in attending; listened to Ainsley's incredibly over-dramatized version of the night's events, implying that there had, in fact, been pig-headed people, and they were not just a figment of his wild imagination. Tate was sharp and funny, and she took the time as they filled the space of the conversation to look him over a bit closer. His ears seemed too long for an orc, tapering to sharp points, and there was nothing in his long jaw or long, slender neck that resembled any of the orcs she had met at the resort previously.
"The rosemary violet is my favorite," she piped up once Ainsley had finished his colorful anecdote, lifting her drink again, taking a long sip. All three bottles were the same flavor of peach and orange blossom, which she also liked, but not quite as much as the rosemary.
"It's my favorite as well, which is why those are all upstairs."
"I would never have expected an orc to be fond of an Elvish drink," she tittered, glad they had stopped in the little black bar. The mirth-filled end to their night was what they needed to sweeten the experience of the house, whatsheneeded to be able to look back and only remember the good parts.
"That's because he's an elf? You'd probably not find too many orcs ordering anything with peach blossom and violet."
"It's a violet and rosemary and peach and orange blossom," she corrected, before turning to Ainsley's friend with raised eyebrows. "You're an elf?! That explains . . . well, literally everything I've been thinking for the past half hour. You don't really look like an orc, except for, well . . ." She gestured at his person, feeling her ears heat.
"Except for all the bits that make me look like an orc," He finished for her, smiling briefly, setting her at ease.
"You're from Ireland, right?" Her cheeks darkened as she ducked her head. "I'm sorry, that probably makes me sound so dumb. I have a really bad ear for accents and languages, I struggled so much with Elvish in school. I've met folks before and I've assumed they were from Ireland and they were really from England, so I figure it's not worth assuming."
He chuckled, draining the rest of his bottle before crossing his arms over his chest again. "Well, you can be forgiven for that. There are at least a dozen different places in England who all desperately want to sound Irish. But yes, I'm from Ireland, emigrated nearly two decades ago. My chef at the bistro, I'm sure you'll meet her eventually if you've not already done so, she is as well."
"Do you own the bistro too?!" Ris covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking in laughter again. "Well since I'm embarrassing myself, I may as well admit — I thought you were a server there."
Tate raised his hands, shrugging in an expansive gesture of defeat, and she laughed harder.
"Okay, I don't understand how—" Ainsley cocked an eyebrow, hand raised questioningly, his face screwed up in confusion. "Has pop-culture lied to me all these years? Because if movies and television and even songs are to be believed, girls talk to each other about everything? Is that all a big lie? Do you even go to the bathroom together? Do you evenlikelip gloss?! Have you seriously heard nothing about him? How is it even possible that I have been ledthisastray? Was my entire childhood a lie?"
Ris didn't understand Ainsley's words, but she took in the tightening of his friend's eyes, the flattening of his mouth and the slight pull of his posture, as if he were hunching without moving. Less than a heartbeat had passed, Ainsley's words still floating in the air between them, but something had changed, a chill she could tangibly feel, when Tate pushed up from the table, gathering all three glasses and bottles at once.
"You going to be here when my alarm goes off at five in the morning? Shona gets in at six. I like to have the dining room set up and the accounting for the day done before the bank opens."
"The most I am planning to do at five is have a nice horny dream, because that is still practically the middle of the night."
"Then I think it's time for you to get the fuck out so that I can go to bed."
The sharp, hardness she had remembered from his voice that first night in this pub had returned, and Ris felt her stomach twinge, having the uncomfortable feeling that tonight she had inadvertently been the cause of it. She shoved up from the table quickly, pushing in her chair neatly as well as the one Tate had abandoned, not giving Ainsley an opportunity to argue. "It was nice meeting you officially," she called out as cheerfully as she could. "Thank you for the drinks, I'm sure I'll see you again soon."
The smile he gave her was tight, and didn't quite reach his flame-colored eyes.
She pulled her jacket around her tightly as they stepped back out into the black night, the faintest trace of snow beginning to fall from the sky. The lights of the pub went out before they had even stepped off the sidewalk. "I think you hurt his feelings," she murmured as Ainsley gripped her hand, stepping into the empty road.
