The damp cloth slides up and down along the length of the bar, leaving the polished wood with a shiny fit for a palace. Only the soberest of the patrons would care about such a thing, as the ones coming in later and later would see less and less of the beauty as it’s covered in the night's grime.
Shorty slaps the cloth into its proper bucket, nodding to himself as the final touches made the establishment spotless.
The doors opened, and standing at the doorway is a large and imposing figure dressed in a heavy coat, buttoned up to the neck. Around their mouth is a tight scarf, and their bicorn hat sends a shadow over the rest of their face. They stand tall and proud, clicking the heels of their boots together. Through the silent command, two smaller, similarly-dressed individuals walk out. One wears a tight mask over his face, with only his harsh mouth revealed. The other covers her ears, but the eyes and the mouth are familiar to the old man.
Shorty grumbles, his hands tight over his chest.
The taller officer dips their head down low, hunched over as they enter the pub. They reach into their breast pocket and produce with their gloved hand a slip of paper.
Shorty takes it and reads it over. “Vice assessments? This far into town? I can assure you, there are no brothels here.”
His gaze turns quickly towards the hobgoblin officer, burning a furrowed gaze at her. Still, the three move around the room, looking under tables and knocking their boots upon the floor.
The clomping and scuff make Old Shorty wince, and the whole time he looked toward the hobgoblin in particular and her tricky ways.
“You’re showing me the back,” she says, standing tall, her hands behind and her shoulders straight.
“Of course, you’ll look back there.” He grumbles.
“I can’t hear you, civilian,” she says, tapping a muff. “I am a judicator who shall see and speak but not hear.”
“And, of course, you want to keep yourself talking,” he mumbles.
“No tricky words, civilian. Just show me the back.”
He grumbles and stomps back, his shoes giving off the most even gait and having the best support over the rest of the footwear in the building.
Once in the kitchen, the hobgoblin looks back into the main pub room and closes the door, sighing. “Whew, that was close.”
“The hells are you doin’, lass?” Shorty asks.
She frowns and taps her ear coverings again.
Shorty throws up his hands and scoffs.
“I need you to be my ears for now,” Robin says, hopping onto a stool. She perches her boots upon the footrest, gripping the seat in her gloved hands.
He shrugs, raising his brows.
“So, I like to keep my eggs in different baskets, right? And you’re one of my favorites, Shorty.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“Someone’s out to get you, and I think it might be my fault.”
He frowns.
“Turns out that wizard isn’t exactly someone to be messing with. I tried to listen in on her activities, and she does most of the exciting stuff with her foot wrappings off.”
He reaches into the freezer and pulls out a bottle, opening it up as she continues.
“And I think she noticed and might have tipped off the judicators… That or it was my boss at the, uh, insurance company. Anyway, I will find some evidence that you’re being framed. But it isn’t going to work forever. They’ll find out, and they’ll be after you. You’ll need to go away from town, and, well, I wanna go with you.”
He brings the drink to his lips and takes a swig, smacking his lips, watching.
She rocks her ankles, rocking back and forth on the stool on her seat, looking downward. “I’ve put on many hats and wore many different shoes, Shorty, but Anteronia is a big town, and if you’re not a big fish, you’re going to get eaten. Things are changin’ around here, and that tournament only attracted bigger fish in the city's politics. I need to get going. You’re my only friend around here.”
Shorty moves his lips.
Robin frowns, shaking her head.
He steps up, placing the bottle on the counter behind her. He grabs her ear covering and pulls it aside, letting her goblinoid ear pop out and twitch.
“I said, lass, I don’t want to leave, and your brain is too small for your head.”
She snaps her teeth, but he pulls away, grabbing her by the cheeks.
Robin’s eyes widen as she looks into the man’s eyes, her grip tightening upon the stool.
“You have so much power here. Underworld, law enforcement, is that what you really honestly want? I found myself in a place I could live and a place could do what I wanted when I wanted. It’s you who brought all this trouble to my door.”
Her lips squished together, she asks. “Why dosh you do thish for me?”
He pulls his hand away from her, swiping the bottle and handing it to her. “You reminded me of someone long ago, who had their head too high in the clouds, thinkin’ they can be king of the hills in a place that was quickly becoming flat.
She bites her lip and whispers. “Shorty, I’m scared.”
Shorty rolls up his sleeves. “I’ll take care of all of this.”
She quirks her head. “But, Shorty, the judicators won’t find anything here, and they’ll get on their way.”
“I said I’ll take care of everything, not just them.” He says this, walking back to the doorway. He pauses, looking over his shoulder, and states. “By the way, lass, you will call me Senan.”
Robin bites her lip as the old loner passes into the threshold.