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Rox hasn’t felt as at home in a long time as she feels in the Dead End, even if she does have to duck to keep her horns from catching on wooden beams and hanging bunches of herbs. The whole place smells like chicken and sage and wood smoke, now that Marjory’s drunk enough to have let the fire burn down to cinders. She and Braham are trading war stories over a table in the corner, and the number of clockwork soldiers seems to grow with each telling. Frostbite is crouched underneath them, probably hoping for food scraps. The pipsqueak is perched on the edge of the bar, nursing a cup of juice and sulking. Rox has long abandoned the rough wooden benches for a spot by the fire, leaning her back against the warm stones. And Kasmeer-
Kasmeer trips and nearly stumbles into her lap, giggling the whole time. Rox catches her easily with one arm and she plops down next to her side instead. “Hiii Rox! How’re you doing?” Her voice is slurred enough that it comes out like “Roksh.” She lets out a hiccup.
“Uh oh,” Rox says, “is the building about to fall down around our ears?”
“Nnooo, no… jus’ a little too much to drink.” She leans her head on Rox’s shoulder, as trusting as a newborn cub. She’s on the side closer to the fire, so Rox puts one hand out to catch her if she tries to wobble into the grate. She turns and squeezes Rox’s arm. “Oh, you do have muscle under all that fur.”
Rox snorts. “Of course I do.” Try finding a Legion charr that doesn’t.
“I guess drawing a bow makes you strong, huh?” Kasmeer looks up at her with big blue eyes. Is this how humans flirt? Aren’t they supposed to be subtle?
There’s about four different reasons why that’ll never work, and one of them is across the room losing a drinking contest with Braham. But nothing’s wrong with a bit of fun, so Rox brings her other arm forward and flexes. Kasmeer hums encouragingly. “Well, I was a miner first, you know. I’ve had a pickaxe in my hand since I was six months old.”
Kasmeer takes Rox’s hand and runs a finger over the fur on her forearm. She doesn’t seem bothered at all by the claws. “Oh cute, you have little spots!”
“Uh, thanks.” This is getting a little odd now. “I… like your mane?”
She really has a nice thick golden one, but for some reason that makes Kasmeer start giggling. From across the room, Braham bursts into gut-busting laughter. Rox looks over and finds them all staring at her. “What?”
“You owe me 10 silver,” Jory slurs, pointing at Braham. “Even drunk Kas is a charmer.”
“I’m not even mad,” Braham says. “That was funny.” Rox makes a rude gesture at him, which he either ignores or is too drunk to notice.
Under her breath, so quietly that Rox is pretty sure anyone without charr ears couldn’t have heard, Kas says, “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?” Rox asks, and Kasmeer jumps a little.
She fidgets and finally admits, “Just the gambling. I wish they’d bet a round of drinks instead or something.”
“Aww, is it really gambling if it’s between friends?” She’s seen bigger bets than that go down in the fahrar with scavenged coin.
“I guess not. But that kind of thing can hurt people, you know?”
“Did something happen?” Rox asks. She notices Kasmeer’s eyes seem clearer, and she’s no longer sliding all her words together. She’d do good in Ash Legion, acting like that. Right now she won’t meet Rox’s eyes, and Rox thinks maybe she’d better stop talking.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“No I – it’s okay, fair is fair. I overheard you talking to the Boss earlier? About… your old warband?” Rox shrugs; she hadn’t bothered to be quiet. “How much do you know about where I grew up?”
“I know Captain Thackeray called you a Lady.” And from the look of the people at the Queen’s Jubilee, that was a pretty big deal. “I saw all the fancy houses before Scarlet’s attack.”
Kasmeer nods and sighs. “One of them used to be mine. Then my brother lost a lot of money gambling. My father paid off the debt to keep him out of trouble, but it took everything. He was thrown in jail, and I… I couldn’t live there anymore.”
She swallows hard, and Rox can almost smell the shame wafting off her. It’s painfully familiar. “He died in prison. My brother ran away. I didn’t have anyone left… well, until I met Jory.” She smiles a little at that, though it doesn’t hide the ache in her voice.
“You’re a gladium,” Rox whispers. Of all people, in all places, she finds an echo of her own feelings here. The same story hidden under different names. She has the irrational need to tell Kasmeer everything, in hopes that someone might finally understand. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.
Kasmeer blinks a few times. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But I guess I am.”
“Why don’t you ask Marjory to knock it off?” She and Braham have an agreement: she doesn’t go into small places if he can help it, and he doesn’t get close to spiders if she can help it. Easy.
“I don’t want to bother her while she’s still injured. It’s not a big deal, I’m only being silly.” Even as she says it, she leans into Rox’s side a little more, still watching her maybe-mate across the room. Rox recognizes the hunch to her shoulders because she’s curved hers the same way before: I don’t want to be alone.
She thinks about reassuring her, then remembers the stench of that blasted Tequatl tail and keeps her mouth shut. Instead, she leans over and gently rests her chin on the top of Kas’s head. It’s a vulnerable position for a charr, the neck exposed, though Kas probably doesn’t know it. She lets a purr rumble through her throat as she exhales slowly.
Kas laughs a sad little laugh. “Thanks, Rox.” Rox smiles and tucks her tail around them both.
Misery loves company, they say, and in the Legions, Pick yourself up, soldier! It’s true that it was hard to find friends in Gladium Canton, with everyone climbing on top of each other to survive. But here, in this human city, it feels less like wallowing and more like companionship. There’s a new warband forming in this bar. One that might be willing to accept a gladium or two.
