𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

eleven

For one of the very first times in her entire adult life, Tara had actually surprised herself with her own idiocy.

This was a dangerous place with dangerous people and she was alone. There wasn't any room for misadventures or mistakes. Tara just couldn't afford any more enemies.

She could only hope he wasn't too important.

Tara paused her sweeping for a moment, her abrupt landing on the hay had caused an outpour of worrying grey dust onto the floor that she was inclined to clean. She started thinking maybe it was best to sleep on the floor from now on. She let it be and leaned on her hip, looking around the dilapidated barn.

After so long, everything she'd been through. Tara shook her head slowly.

Vern and his disapproving lecture would have to wait for the night. She deserved a fucking drink.

❖

For such a small town, this backwater place really did have quite a few pubs. Not that she expected any less. The world was full of sad and self loathing people after the war had ended. Business was booming in every bar around the world.

The Ritter wasn't any different. She'd walked down the mucky road and glanced over at the sound of violent retching. Just outside, a man was getting sick into the gutter. At the sight, she'd internally shrugged and decided this was the place to drink her thoughts away for the day, loosening up the shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she sought refuge from the cold.

She hadn't been aware of the familiar green eyes boring into her back as she'd disappeared inside.

Empty tables were sparsely scattered around the room, the rest full of drinking patrons. The walls were peeling away and most of the windows were boarded up, shading the room from prying eyes. The few that weren't blocked were orange with dirt and tobacco, too smeared to see in or out of. 

A sleek brown bar jutted out of the wall like a crown jewel. Directly to its left, an enclosed quarter hid into the corner with a window for direct access to the barman. The air was thicker and warmer here. It felt like a place she could grow to like.

Tara fingered her pockets, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction that they now carried a bit of weight. She approached the barman, a middle-aged fellow with tired eyes and a crooked grin.

She watched him pour the bourbon into her glass, sliding it over to Tara. Her fingers lightly danced around the glass, the amber liquid inside promising a forgetful evening, or at the very least, less cumbersome. Tara began to notice the barman lingering in front of her, like he was waiting for something.

"Are you waiting for a fella, love?" He asked curiously, confused at the tiny woman in front of him with no one beside her. It was an odd and dangerous thing to do in a pub like his.

She looked up at him, eyes dark and tired. She seemed to pause, fidgeting with her glass on the counter. "No. I'm here alone."

Her soft words were heard well. He looked like he had more to say, more to ask, but her business was her business and it wasn't his to be poking around in.

The barman walked away, deciding to keep a watchful eye on the girl, case she got any trouble, thinking hard on whether or not he'd made the right decision to let her stay.

❖

Tommy hadn't been particularly focused on the chat with his uncle. Maybe it was because of the strange woman he'd found in his barn. But Vern had kept his explanation brief and quickly moved on. He wouldn't even tell him her name.

With his bizarre morning encounter on his mind, Tom left the canal side property and made his way into the market to conduct his business with the sellers. He was later than he said he'd be, but they relied on him too much to make their discomfort known. 

Jerry spotted his entry and immediately turned to grab a bottle of whiskey from the shelves behind him to pour the Tommy a glass. His brother worked the stalls and everyone wanted to get in good with the local smuggler.

On his way to the bar, Tommy spotted a head of familiar blonde hair sitting at the counter, her head down and her back bent slightly.

"On the house, Mr. Devon." Jerry greeted, sliding a glass of alcohol him. Tommy only nodded his head in acknowledgement, sliding the coins he was due across the counter heedless of the barman's words, a little distracted by the woman to his left.

Tara hadn't seen him yet, she still swirled her drink like her mind was elsewhere. So he sat at the counter, eyes glancing at the blonde curtain covering her features before bringing his eyes forward and the glass to his lips.

"What are you doing here?"

Tara froze momentarily, she didn't know anyone here, whoever the voice belonged to probably wasn't talking to her. But she still dared a glance.

And when she did, Tara saw the face of the man who had tried to kill her that morning sitting casually to her right with a drink in his hand and a blank expression resting on his face. His blue eyes glanced at her, a brow going up at her lack of response.

She cleared her throat, scrambling her mind for an answer before perhaps he decided she was too rude for his liking and shot her on the spot.

Tara lifted her glass in gesture with a nervous smile.

"Getting a drink. I've had a stressful morning." She looked away, taking a sip and imploring the wall in front of her for a way out.

Tommy smirked, a low hum escaping his throat. He looked like he was about to reply, but a man sat in the seat right beside him and a new wave of tenseness locked onto Tara's shoulders. Every new encounter was another chance for her to get caught. Tom sent him a familiar nod.

Benny took the coins Tom had left on the counter and slid them forward to Jerry to pay for his own drink. "You know the drill, Jer." He offhandedly addressed the barman before turning his attention to Tom, giving him a light smirk.

Jerry glanced between them for only the slightest moment before turning and grabbing an Irish whiskey for him off the shelf and pouring it with his eyes down.

Tara wasn't sure where she fit between these two who seemed to know each other. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes scouring for an empty table to escape to.

The man turned, leaning his back against the counter with his drink in hand, tilting it to the man she knew to be Tom. "Cheers, you gonna introduce me to the lady, Tommy?"

Tara flicked her eyes over, sending a polite simper to the two who now regarded her directly. She tilted her glass wordlessly to the stranger, shifting off her stool. Without looking back, she walked away, seeking refuge at a free table in the corner to drink in peace. 

She couldn't forget, Tara wasn't here to make friends. This little town wasn't her last stop and the less people that knew she'd been here, the better for them when she eventually left.