Eastwood. How’d the oni gig go?”
“Done and done. I had to get Morrison on him, though. Speaking of which, this is Ree. She’s new. I’m invoking my guest privilege.”
Grognard rolled his eyes. “You remember what happened last time you brought someone here?”
Eastwood settled his weight onto one hip. “I do. And she’s not that stupid,” he said, turning to look at Ree.
Not knowing and not wanting to know what incident they referred to, Ree smiled. “This place is amazing.”
In response, Grognard huffed.
Eastwood smiled. “You are twenty-one, right?”
Ree stepped up to the bar and looked at the liquor selection. She spent several seconds appraising, then said, “Macallan 15, just a drop of water.”
Eastwood nodded approvingly, and Ree hoped she wasn’t imagining Grognard’s near-twinge of a smile. The older man turned, plucked a bottle off the wall, and poured the Scotch with deliberate grace, taking up the well tap and kissing the water button, pouring enough into the drink to release the taste of the Scotch. It was a trick she’d picked up long enough ago that she’d forgotten who’d taught it to her.
Grognard slid the drink down the bar to her. Ree picked up the glass, took a sniff, then a sip. As good as ever. She flashed Grognard a smile, and this time he grinned in earnest.
Eastwood pulled out a tablet computer and spun it around to show to Grognard. “I’ve got a shopping list. Hope you can help me out.”
Grognard picked up the tablet and rubbed his face, thoughtful. The big man led Eastwood away from the bar and into a back room.
Eastwood turned at the door and said to Ree, “Don’t touch anything.”
Too hell with that. The interdiction nearly compelled her to mess something up, but instead she downed the rest of the Scotch and walked into the store section of the lair. She found the vintage RPG section and lost herself in D&D supplements from the ’80s.
Looking up from a Rules Cyclopedia (which was technically a ’90s supplement, but Ree had played Cyclopedia with her first gaming group, and they all used their older brothers’ books from the ’80s), she caught a glimpse of something that made her double-take. Amid the middle-aged and unimpressively shaped customers, there was something of an oddity.
He wore the Gamer Standard-Issue Trench Coat™, in brown instead of black. He was shorter but not round, therefore defying both of the Stereotypical Gamer-Boy Body Types. His dirty-blond hair was cut in a professional style, and he wore jeans, brown boots, a vest over a white collared shirt, and, incongruously, goggles. They were strung loose around his neck but looked like they belonged on the 1st-place podium in a Steampunk costume contest.
Priya would shiv a nun to see those, Ree thought, taking mental notes to relay to her friend, if she could figure out a way to do so without revealing too much else of what she was involved in.
The man caught her staring and strode over. He wore well-oiled brown leather gloves, removing one as he extended his hand to her.
“Greetings, mademoiselle. I do not believe I have seen you at this fine establishment before.”
Is he for real? Ree met his hand and shook while giving him another look.
He gave a formal bow. “Drake Winters, at your service.”
With a name like that, he did belong in the D&D section.
She found herself dropping into a curtsy to match his bow. William Goldman, you punk.
“Rhiannon Anna Maria Reyes.” She added, “Call me Ree.”
Drake spoke with all the bombasticity of a cast-off from Marvel’s Asgard. “It is always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a beautiful woman, Ms. Reyes. What brings you to Grognard’s? Tomes of knowledge, figures of power, or merely a chance to let down your hair and mingle with fellow keepers of the light?”
Ree laughed. She had to think actively when speaking, since what was coming into her mind was all Princess Bride –flavored. “You can drop the LARPer act,
“Done and done. I had to get Morrison on him, though. Speaking of which, this is Ree. She’s new. I’m invoking my guest privilege.”
Grognard rolled his eyes. “You remember what happened last time you brought someone here?”
Eastwood settled his weight onto one hip. “I do. And she’s not that stupid,” he said, turning to look at Ree.
Not knowing and not wanting to know what incident they referred to, Ree smiled. “This place is amazing.”
In response, Grognard huffed.
Eastwood smiled. “You are twenty-one, right?”
Ree stepped up to the bar and looked at the liquor selection. She spent several seconds appraising, then said, “Macallan 15, just a drop of water.”
Eastwood nodded approvingly, and Ree hoped she wasn’t imagining Grognard’s near-twinge of a smile. The older man turned, plucked a bottle off the wall, and poured the Scotch with deliberate grace, taking up the well tap and kissing the water button, pouring enough into the drink to release the taste of the Scotch. It was a trick she’d picked up long enough ago that she’d forgotten who’d taught it to her.
Grognard slid the drink down the bar to her. Ree picked up the glass, took a sniff, then a sip. As good as ever. She flashed Grognard a smile, and this time he grinned in earnest.
Eastwood pulled out a tablet computer and spun it around to show to Grognard. “I’ve got a shopping list. Hope you can help me out.”
Grognard picked up the tablet and rubbed his face, thoughtful. The big man led Eastwood away from the bar and into a back room.
Eastwood turned at the door and said to Ree, “Don’t touch anything.”
Too hell with that. The interdiction nearly compelled her to mess something up, but instead she downed the rest of the Scotch and walked into the store section of the lair. She found the vintage RPG section and lost herself in D&D supplements from the ’80s.
Looking up from a Rules Cyclopedia (which was technically a ’90s supplement, but Ree had played Cyclopedia with her first gaming group, and they all used their older brothers’ books from the ’80s), she caught a glimpse of something that made her double-take. Amid the middle-aged and unimpressively shaped customers, there was something of an oddity.
He wore the Gamer Standard-Issue Trench Coat™, in brown instead of black. He was shorter but not round, therefore defying both of the Stereotypical Gamer-Boy Body Types. His dirty-blond hair was cut in a professional style, and he wore jeans, brown boots, a vest over a white collared shirt, and, incongruously, goggles. They were strung loose around his neck but looked like they belonged on the 1st-place podium in a Steampunk costume contest.
Priya would shiv a nun to see those, Ree thought, taking mental notes to relay to her friend, if she could figure out a way to do so without revealing too much else of what she was involved in.
The man caught her staring and strode over. He wore well-oiled brown leather gloves, removing one as he extended his hand to her.
“Greetings, mademoiselle. I do not believe I have seen you at this fine establishment before.”
Is he for real? Ree met his hand and shook while giving him another look.
He gave a formal bow. “Drake Winters, at your service.”
With a name like that, he did belong in the D&D section.
She found herself dropping into a curtsy to match his bow. William Goldman, you punk.
“Rhiannon Anna Maria Reyes.” She added, “Call me Ree.”
Drake spoke with all the bombasticity of a cast-off from Marvel’s Asgard. “It is always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a beautiful woman, Ms. Reyes. What brings you to Grognard’s? Tomes of knowledge, figures of power, or merely a chance to let down your hair and mingle with fellow keepers of the light?”
Ree laughed. She had to think actively when speaking, since what was coming into her mind was all Princess Bride –flavored. “You can drop the LARPer act,
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