The young woman sits on one of the dock posts in Stormwind harbour, looking out over the sea. Thereâs a sound of clinking glass, perhaps from a nearby ship deck.
She sits on a rooftop in Old Town. The sun sets in the distance, the sky dimming as the smell of whiskey from the thermos fills her nostrils.
She jolts to attention, blinking bleary eyed a few times as her shoulder is shaken and she finds herself standing in the Pig and Whistle behind the counter, the glass in hand overly polished by this point.
âWhere you been girl? Off in yer head somewhere?â
Still a bit dazed, Quinn sets the glass beneath the bar with the other clean ones. Nose scrunches up, lips tightening with a chagrined look on her features. âSorry Reese...Mister Langston. Not enough sleep yesterday Iâm supposinâ. Was daydreaminâ a bit. Wonât happen again.â
Reese Langstonâs hand claps her shoulder. âYeah, hope not luv. Look, Iâd just send you home to get some rest, but I just got word Ellyâs a bit under the weather and you know Iâm not goinâ to push her too far. We got crowd enough tonight that I canât have you just standinâ here polishinâ glass. Can you take the floor?â
Teeth drag across Quinnâs lower lip as she sucks it in, brown eyed gaze darting over the assembled patrons, before she exhales slowly. âYes sir, yeah, I can take the floor today. Sorry, thatâll keep me movinâ and focused too. Thank you.â
Not but a nod given in return as the Tavernkeep turns attention back to serving those at the bar. Quinn snags a pad of note paper and the barâs one good pen to stride out amongst the patrons.
Itâs a fairly normal crowd, the usual assortment of neâer do wells from about Old Town. Owners of nearby businesses stopping for a drink before calling it a night. And of course, a few travelers who donât seem to have gotten the word on what kind of hole the Pig is, and decided to stop by.
Quinnâs mind begins to drift once more, daydreaming about other things, unfocused on the Bar work as she goes through the rote greetings, drinks, and food specials. Pen scratches out her chicken scratch on the pad, her simplistic notation of drinks, not that she needs to write any of it down really. In practice part of what makes Quinn good at this is her memory.
â...cut to pieces and strung up like some kinda display.â
Sheâs ripped once more from her idle thoughts by the sound of a voice nearby. What theyâd been talking about before hadnât even registered, but those words set off warning bells. Thereâs no real outward change, sheâs good at not letting sudden reactions show on her features or in her posture, but no longer is she daydreaming.
âDonât know what weâre supposed to do to make a living now.â
Quinn finishes taking her current order before feet carry her the distance towards the table with the two men. Both of them with dusty faces, large arms, short sleeves, the sort of ruggedness to them that makes them look like day laborers of some kind.
âHavinâ a rough go of it fellas?â Quinn asks with sympathy slipping across her malleable features. âOverheard you might not be able to work for a bit? Tell you what, doinâ a special today only. Give me a story worth hearinâ and your next pint is on the house. We like stories around here.â
âAint one youâre gonna believe gorgeous,â the man who had spoken first replies. âBut sure, Iâll tell it.â
âDonât have to be true, just got to be good enough to be worth hearinââ Quinn teases back, glancing back down to her notepad. âSo tell me your tale and what youâre havinâ?â
âShorter than he makes it out to be,â the second man replies first. âWe been hired on for summer work at Graysonâs Lumber yard, out east end of Elwynn. Gets like that this time oâyear, bring on a whole mess oâsummer labor to finish before the hot season gets goinâ proper.â
âSounds like you should be payinâ for your drinks just fine then,â Quinn flashes her brightest smile. Inside sheâs mentally urging them to get to the point.
âYeah well, thatâs the thing lady, bunch of us been let go,â the first man speaks again. âOwner runninâ the yard and his two sons turned up,â he blanches a bit looking up at Quinn, and then, in trying to spare the woman, ânot livinâ.â He finishes a bit lamely.
âItâs got to have been bandits, only ones whoâd be twisted enough to cut folks up and then hang âem on display with wire like some sick Darkmoon puppet or somethinâ right?â The second man pipes in eagerly. âOnly the foremen are convinced one of us mustâve done it, let us all go, sent us home and closed the yard. Maybe they got to...vestigate or somethinâ like?â
Quinn doesnât bother to hide the downturn of her lips, the furrowing of her brow. âThatâs terrible, there got to be guards sent out to look into that right?â She also feels her stomach turn a bit at the description. No wonder the first guy tried to spare her the details.
The darker skinned man, the second, scoffs at that comment, âMiss, now mâfriend and I here are good upstandinâ people. But you got to know what sort of people tend to do day labor out there. They got to take whatever they can get to move them logs, and not everyone they toss coin to is on the up and up righâŠoof.â
An annoyed grunt from the second as his friend kicks him under the table. âShe donâ need to know all that. Anyway Miss, there you go, not too excitinâ a story but there it is. Man passed away, and now weâre all out of work. Even if it aint what you were lookinâ for, thatâs got to be worth a pint right?â
Quinn scrunches up her nose, eyes rolling to the side as though waffling a bit on whether or not to reward the story. Inside sheâs already recording the details sheâd gotten, making a note that itâs time to make a new report to Vyn. Been too long since something worth noting has crossed her ears.
âYeah, alright, two pints of lager cominâ up,â pen works on page, taking down a rough description of the two gentlemen rather than their order, that seems more worth noting right now. Those writing lessons are paying off.
Then once more the din of the tavern takes over, and she lets her mind drift as she returns to the simple pace of work. For now, she still has this job to do. Tonight, itâs time to do the other half of what sheâs paid for.
[ Mention to @lovelydeadlysocialiteâ ]