Her eyes, or at least the one eye Tobin could see, were brilliant blue and they fixed upon his with intent.
"You've been here before," she said. "No, not this table, not that mug, but this question. You've asked it before." "Why are you here again," she demanded.
Tobin started to object, but his denial was grabbed away before it made it to his lips.
"Don't , just don't," came her hoarse whisper. "Don't cheapen what was a beautiful thing, instead
drink deep and embrace it. The answer is always the same. Remember, and never thirst again."
And then she was gone, leaving behind a scent of a memory that belonged to him.
She took a seemingly interminable amount of time hand rolling a cigarette. Just when Tobin was about to say something, she cast a warning look in his direction. Despite her aged and weather beaten look, that glance was a sharp and clean as a chef's prize knife.
Finally, she finished the cigarette, lit it, and took an incredibly deep, choking drag.
"You ever rode a yack through a mountain pass in a raging blizzard?"
Her eyes looked crazy. Heck, everything about her looked crazy. The billowing smoke she exhaled did not help dampen the effect.
Yup. This was definitely a mistake.
"How about drank a quart of shine with a platoon of Bangladeshi regulars and a Tibetan monkey trainer? Ya ever done that?"
Tobin shook his head, furtively looking an exit. Or a rescuer. Any way to get out of this.
"Didn't think so. Only a damn fool who ain't never done nothin' thinks the answer is in the glass."
She jumped off her seat with such energy the stool bounced off the bar and hit the ground with a crash.
"The answer's in the folks you share the drink with."
She flicked her smoldering cigarette to the floor, ground in it with the heel of a cracked leather cowboy boot, and stalked out the door, her plume of feathers flouncing along in an angry huff.
Her eyes, or at least the one eye Tobin could see, were brilliant blue and they fixed upon his with intent.
"You've been here before," she said. "No, not this table, not that mug, but this question. You've asked it before." "Why are you here again," she demanded.
Tobin started to object, but his denial was grabbed away before it made it to his lips.
"Don't , just don't," came her hoarse whisper. "Don't cheapen what was a beautiful thing, instead
drink deep and embrace it. The answer is always the same. Remember, and never thirst again."
And then she was gone, leaving behind a scent of a memory that belonged to him.
She took a seemingly interminable amount of time hand rolling a cigarette. Just when Tobin was about to say something, she cast a warning look in his direction. Despite her aged and weather beaten look, that glance was a sharp and clean as a chef's prize knife.
Finally, she finished the cigarette, lit it, and took an incredibly deep, choking drag.
"You ever rode a yack through a mountain pass in a raging blizzard?"
Her eyes looked crazy. Heck, everything about her looked crazy. The billowing smoke she exhaled did not help dampen the effect.
Yup. This was definitely a mistake.
"How about drank a quart of shine with a platoon of Bangladeshi regulars and a Tibetan monkey trainer? Ya ever done that?"
Tobin shook his head, furtively looking an exit. Or a rescuer. Any way to get out of this.
"Didn't think so. Only a damn fool who ain't never done nothin' thinks the answer is in the glass."
She jumped off her seat with such energy the stool bounced off the bar and hit the ground with a crash.
"The answer's in the folks you share the drink with."
She flicked her smoldering cigarette to the floor, ground in it with the heel of a cracked leather cowboy boot, and stalked out the door, her plume of feathers flouncing along in an angry huff.