Crs03 - Gust

Chapter II [continued]

Gust [pt2]

...Her small hand brought forth her hood to protect her as she walked towards a door west of the fountain.
"That's it Jesse."
The sound of the wind was as cold as the rain was sharp. The creaking of an illegible sign above the entrance swinging in the wind was replaced by a light slam and a latch of the door, with the heavy rain beating against it being retorted by the warm air and blues music making its way from an unseen part of the glowing tavern to a now rather wringing wet Jesse.
"Willow!"
She grinned while hanging her coat.
"M'lady, you resemble a drowning dog."
"And you a basket of fruit?" she playfully responded.
She made her way to the familiar face a few metres away sitting upon a stool at the counter on the right side of the large room, opposing a legion of tables seperated by decorated wood and stained glass the same few metres across the wooden floor. Her footsteps echoed in rhythm to the piano and the raindrops on the roof, causing her black silk-like skirt to twist intriguingly around her ankles. She wore a deep red jumper, stopping at her neck to allow her rich, if wet, brown hair to continue its way from just below her shoulders, covering her ears and instilling its colour into her eyes.
She selected the stool beside the gentleman she had moments ago addressed. He appeared a similar age and tint of iris to her, with somewhat unkempt looking and almost ginger hair sitting an inch or two above the tip of her forehead. His contagious smile brought a glow to her face. His eyes and mouth formed the most peculiar shape when he smiled; there was something warm about it, and about his general appearance; the soft, tea coloured coat and the mahogany coloured, however small round frame of his glasses. It made him seem so complete, and his smile brought it all together.
"'ey Willow."
"Hey'a Chay."
He grinned for a moment at the drink in his hands before glancing towards Jesse's rather drenched hair.
"Raining out?"
She smiled and continued staring forwards behind the bar. She paused to inhale the music for a few moments. It felt as though she was playing it somehow; wishing she was. She opened her eyes and turned towards Chay.
"Who's the deity?"
"Piano guy?"
"Yep."
An echo, followed swiftly by a somewhat hoarse voice, entered via a doorway behind the counter.
"Tha', Lady Jesse, would be the wizardry of Sir Walter, Oak."
Chay responded to the voice, still residing in the back hall.
"He's from that mountain place, right? Those mountain folk.. people.. place."
"Maelus."
"Maelus, right. With that crazy red iris thing."
"Tha's 'em arright."
"Nice."
A rather remarkable walk emerged somewhat swiftly from the back hall he'd been conversing with, bringing with it some interestingly distant footsteps and a somewhat portly gentleman with a friendly face and a cloth cleaning out a tall glass. His face wasn't tremendously long, which suited his curled moustache and unorthodox sideburns, making up for his somewhat bare forehead; it was a very 'bartender face'.
"Y'know you've a very bartender face?"
"Aye?"
His smile became fixed in position at the end of the almost word.
"And wha's 'at s'pposed t'mean?"
"Y'know, you've got the look; that crazy hair thing, and the 'tache and the way it looks like yer bein' dubbed by a wookie."
The barman emmited a peculiar chuckle without opening his mouth before projecting the cloth towards Chay's head.
"Yer a nut Chay, ah tell ya."
He giggled as he spoke.
"Hope that glass was clean."
"Aye;" he grinned, "Nigh gim'me back me cloth."
He paused for a moment, glaring at his two hands holding his drink, while the barman continued cleaning glasses. His right index finger moved somewhat jerkily to the top of the glass and slid slowly to its original position. He briefly raised both eyebrows and released the glass from his gaze. He turned his head to the right.
"You K. Willow?"
Her hands were each holding the other elbow as they rested on the counter. She removed herself from her forward stare to reply.
"Yeah I'm fine."
Her voice seemed surprisingly genuine.
"Sorry;" she smiled and spoke slowly, "Just thinking."
He didn't appear to believe her as much as he would have liked.
"I'm fine."
She had said it with enough conviction.
"All right."
He relaxed slightly and glanced at the almost flat, wooden, pendulum clock hanging on the wall behind the bar.
"Oh, deary frickin' me."
He was beginning to remove himself from his stool.
"Ahm I hearin' language frum the Chief Samaritan 'imself 'ere? The one who" "She-yush."
"I'm allowed: I'm late, and I run this place anyway."
The barman was joined by a few octaves;
"The cheek!"
Chay giggled for a bit. He bore the oddest giggle for a man of his age.
"'ey, have I ever'nforced that one on you anyway?"
"Ah canny believe this."
"Back in a min, K?"
His coat resembled a cape as it trailed behind his speedy walk towards the other end of the tavern, he turned around while proceeding with the following few steps backwards.
"Y'know yaz love me."
"Aye, get aye'tta here, y'scut."
He twirled again and continued to a hall beyond an open doorway on the wall where the tavern stopped to turn right and the tables stopped for a small gap, but from where the two figures were placed, nothing beyond the first chairs at the corner could be seen, keeping the pianist and his stage just out of sight.
"High do we not hate 'im?" he chuckled.