You open the doors to tavern vigorously, stepping inside dramatically like those men in westerns and immadietly crash on a stool by the bar.
The place, you have to admit, has its own specific microclimate, atmosphere straight from the old cowboy movies. Wooden floors creaking with every move you make, animal’s antlers hanging on the walls and the smell of cheap beer.
“Tough morning, sweet pea?” the bartender asks you, a middle-aged woman named Dolores, or at least that’s what her badge says.
Dolores looks like she has definitely spent too much of her free time under the sun. Or in local solarium, you can’t quite tell. Her hair has a few different shades of red and brown in it and something that you think was supposed to be orange highlights. Her breasts are practically trying to jump away from her rich cleavage of mint uniform yet she doesn’t mind that even a bit.
“You could say so,” you grumble, pulling out from the backpack your notebook along with the useless compass.
“Another gold digger in a town?” she ponders, casting a brief glance at your belongings. Her lips painted in a shiny, pinky gloss twist into a smile.
You look up, furrowing your eyebrows. “What do you mean: another?”
Dolores puts on the counter the glass she has been polishing for the past ten minutes and takes another. “There was one earlier today here. He was asking how to get to the Morricone river’s valley.”
Your suspicion grows even stronger after hearing her words. Eyes narrowing, you ask her, “What did he look like?”
Dolores’ orange face flushes a little, a dreamy smirk stretching on her lips. “Ah, he was so handsome. Very good looking young man. Average height. Dark eyes. Blonde hair.”
Your fists clench by your sides. You could feel your nails digging crescent moons into the flesh. This can’t be it. Seven billions of people on this planet and it was particularly him? No, it’s just a stupid coincidence. There is a huge amount of men in this world with blonde hair and dark eyes, right?
“Oh, I almost forgot about one thing,” Dolores quips. “He was speaking in a funny way. Quoting Seneca or someone like that.”
Everything spins behind your eyelids. This isn’t really happening. No, no, no!
Fucking hell, you think to yourself. I’m so screwed.
YOU ARE READING
-eldorado (m.)
Fanfiction⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader ⟶ genre: smut, angst, fluff . . . . ⟶ summary: not all that glitters is gold but you, qualified gold digger, carrying on your back immense experience acquired all around the globe, came to the city of el paso del conte w...
