He sat by the door, listening to the muted splashing of water inside the room. The flickering light of the candles casted long shadows on the floor, creating a sinister aura in the dusty and narrow hallway.
Sierra Alvior.
It was an odd name. Very odd. He'd never heard of an Alvior before. The ghostly white hair, as well...
How befuddling it was when he first saw it... As if it wasn't human.
His lips cocked a mysterious smile. The suspicious shuffling of feet on the old floorboard were clearer now.
"Can I help you?" Azrael asked in a light tone as he stood up and stretched his limbs.
The footsteps paused as if hesitant but it quickly resumed.
"Do you have business with us?" He asked.
"...Have you enjoyed the bath with your lover... Sir?" It was an awkward tone for a helper at a destitute inn to have. Mocking, and disrespectful. Usually, they are servile for hopes of getting tips from sympathetic customers. This one's just... desperate.
The corners of Azrael's lips widened pleasantly. "It is a misunderstanding. I am only but an escort."
"Oh my... But I'm afraid we offered a bath for two and so your meagre pay cannot suffice."
Azrael's fingers froze when it didn't feel the usual cold hilt of the dagger at his waist. Right... He gave it to the little miss, didn't he..? This is quite a dilemma...
"I'm sorry, but we'll be taking your companion."
"I also apologize but, I did say I'm an escort." Temporarily . Azrael snapped as he stood straight. "If you insist to take her, I will retaliate."
From the shadows, a burly middle-aged man stepped into the light, cocking his head at the young fellow. "What can a boy do-"
"Rem." A new voice emerged from the stairs. The innkeeper's footsteps were slow and careful as he neared the two gentlemen. "They are guests. Don't be rude. "
"Ah." Azrael turned to the newcomer. "Someone to be reasoned with."
"What are you afraid of? He's just a child-"
"Rem-!" The innkeeper's voice shook the hallway, disturbing the eerie silence of the neighborhood. "...has been drinking. I apologize for his rudeness."
The burly middle-aged man looked at his master like he was crazy, but soon shook his head and stomped away with an annoyed expression.
"Apology accepted. However, I believe I heard the lady faint inside. If you can assist her, that would be most wise. Yes?"
The old gentleman fidgeted as he clasped his hands together. "She will be awake come dawn. The effects of the drug will wear off by then."
Azrael harrumphed. "Understood. Then go." The innkeeper is a seer, after all. "But remember. You did not have any visitors today... If you know what's good for you."
"O-of course, sir."
Azrael opened the door with ease and found the lady lying on the floor, still wet from the bath. But had managed to put clothes on, I see. How nimble.
He knelt down to retrieve her limp body and put her on the bed. After covering her with the blanket, he called for the bath to be changed. It has been a while since he had a proper bath, too, and now that she's knocked out, there wouldn't be any problems if he washed in the same room. It is still improper, but etiquettes prove useless after all that had happened.
