Erzo shook his head. “You didn’t order a refill. That’s not how things work here.”
Polly’s grip on the cup loosened, and she carefully set it back on the table. Her face drained of color, eyes scanning the restaurant discreetly.
“Do you see anyone?” Erzo whispered so low that only Polly could hear.
She shook her head subtly. “No, I can’t.”
“We need to leave,” Erzo said, rising from his seat, a sense of urgency in his voice.
As soon as Erzo stood, he felt sick to his stomach. Had they managed to put something in their food? He barely hid his discomfort, cursing inwardly. It had to be his father’s doing. The man’s relentless pursuit was a threat they couldn’t ignore.
Polly followed closely. “Erzo, what’s happening?”
He didn’t have the luxury to explain, not here. “It’s not safe. We have to get back.”
As they made their way through the restaurant, Erzo’s condition worsened, his stomach churning in protest.
Polly’s grip tightened on his arm. “You’re not well.”
Before they could exit, a group blocked their path. The leader, marked by distinct bone ridges, grinned maliciously. “Hey there, Erzo. Running off so soon?”
Erzo leaned on a nearby table, feigning casualness. “Who are you?”
“You know how it is. A few credits change hands, and suddenly, we’re old friends,” he sneered.
Erzo’s discomfort grew, but he masked it with a facade of indifference. “Charro. We’re all about credits, aren’t we?”
He gestured towards Polly. “Time to put your little toy away, Erzo. You’ve got obligations to fulfill.”
Polly stepped forward, breaking free from Erzo’s weakening grasp. “Excuse me, I’m nobody’s toy!”
His gaze swept over Polly from head to toe. “Feisty. I like that in a woman.”
“I’m not here for your amusement,” Polly retorted sharply, pulling Erzo. “We’re leaving.”
“She’ll be free to take soon enough, Erzo. When you go back to fulfill your duty.”
Polly spun around, her anger flaring. “Oh, honey, keep dreaming!” Her hands planted firmly on her hips, she gave the man a scathing once-over, “And let me tell you, even if I were the last sentient being in the galaxy, you’d still be shit out of luck!”
Erzo gritted his teeth, fighting the nausea churning in his stomach. His vision blurred at the edges, but his focus sharpened as the man inched closer with a predatory gleam in his eye. Polly’s fiery spirit only stoked his protective instincts.
As the man’s intentions became unmistakably clear, something primal within him roared to life. His restraint shattered. His fists clenched, and his tail coiled tightly, ready to strike.
Swing.
Smack.
Slam.
Sounds of fists meeting flesh echoed through the restaurant, drawing gasps from bystanders. His tail whipped through the air, a green streak of fury slamming into another assailant who had tried to sneak up from behind.
The scuffle was chaotic, the clatter of dishes and the shuffling of feet creating a cacophony around them. Polly, wide-eyed and alert, backed away from the fray, her gaze darting between Erzo and the attackers. She looked ready to jump in; her fists clenched, though uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
His world spun as he fought through the haze of sickness. The Nevillian thugs seemed to multiply before his eyes, their figures blurring. His tail, usually a deadly weapon in its own right, flailed erratically, striking more air than flesh.
A heavy blow from one of the Nevillian bruisers sent him sprawling across the floor, his limbs tangled awkwardly. The clamor of the restaurant morphed into a distant, muffled roar as if he were underwater.
“No fighting in Folay’s! This is a high-class joint, not a barroom brawl!”
