!VERY VITAL AND IMPORTANT NOTE, PLEASE READ!
I don't know how it happened, or how it escaped my notice, but the intended first chapter of Just a Matter of When didn't upload. My guess is that my internet cut out while I was publishing (it's not the most reliable of connections). So, ADDRESSED TO RETURNING READERS MOSTLY, please go back to Chapter 1, Meets and Greets. The original first chapter is now chapter 2, Snap, Crackle, Pop (I'll admit I did edit a few things. I've discovered that, as an author, it's almost impossible to view one's own work without finding the overwhelming need to edit it. And since I had the opportunity...) And, here's chapter 3: To Smog
Disclaimer: I don't own anything I'm not supposed to own, and, by writing this piece of fiction, I am not suggesting or implying that I do in any way.
Enjoy(:
Ben hummed as he walked through Bowerstone Industrial, weaving among the crowds of the hungry and unwashed. He and his men, having just returned from Mourningwood, were all relieved to have returned to the living part of Albion, far away from the hordes of the undead. Most of his comrades had immediately sought out the more beautiful areas of the world, having been deprived of anything even remotely inspiring (or clean, for that matter) for a number of weeks. Ben had headed straight to Industrial. Admittedly, this part of Bowerstone wasn't much to look at, nor was it home to the cleanest or most honest people of Albion. But truthfully, right now all he needed was a drink, a bed, and a long bath (though at this point he would have accepted a bucket of water thrown at him). The Riveter's Rest was currently the nearest tavern to him, and it had alcohol, which was, at the moment, the most important of his three requisites.
Ben kept his head down, not enjoying the attention that his uniform got him. Rumors of "corruption" in the Royal Army had spread like wildfire. They could only hope that word of the rebellion hadn't reached Logan yet, but unfortunately, plenty of talk was being stirred up about it. Some people supported it, eager and ready to fight for change. But some (the wiser percentage of the population, in his opinion) knew that change is not something easily acquired, especially with a tyrant holding a tight grip on the current ways. Though they weren't necessarily against the resistance, they weren't willing to lose their heads over it, literally.
As he crossed the bridge, nearing the corner where the bar was situated, he studied the few people that staggered (with varying degrees of drunkenness) about the area. All of Industrial was sad and sorry, this was a well known fact. But Ben saw that the saddest and sorriest of the bunch were found in and around the pub. If one wanted to get right to the root, to the extremes, of any social issue in a community, the pub was the place to go.
So caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the familiar dog perched obediently outside the door of the tavern.
Strolling into the building, he saw nothing that was recognizable to him (aside from the numerous drunks scattered about, some conscious and some not, though that was a common sight in any bar), seeing as he wasn't familiar with The Riveter's Rest. As he scanned the room for an open table, his eyes sought out a familiar face, belonging to a young woman in a full mercenary outfit sitting at a table near the window. Her hat and gloves were placed on the ground beside her, and she read from a large, leather bound book placed in front of her. She smiled up at the barmaid as she topped off the empty mug on her table.
Ben marched over to the table at which she sat, mentally turning on his irresistible (or so he liked to think) Finn charm. "Pardon me, miss. Is this seat taken?"
Looking up from her pages, her eyes met his, recognition appearing on her face after a few seconds. A small smile made its way onto her face as she shook her head and motioned to the empty seat, silently offering it to him.
"Forgive me for asking, but do you often spend your afternoons squandering away in the pubs of Albion?" He asked teasingly, sliding into the chair across from her.
She closed the book in front of her, dropping it on the ground next to the rest of her belongings. Resting her elbows on the table, she leaned forward and wrapped her hands around her beverage, taking a small sip before smirking at him.
"Well, Captain, this resistance hasn't made me immune to everything, you know. Even a rebel needs a break every now and again." She motioned to the barmaid, asking for another drink.
"Speaking of the rebellion, how is all of that coming along? Last I heard you were heading to the sewers to meet with the Bowerstone Resistance."
"Hmm, and meet them I did. Well, I don't know if 'meet' is the right word. There were no formal introductions. 'Stared down the barrels of their guns while they spoke at me', is probably more accurate. They're a rather jumpy bunch. A tad paranoid. But I guess they sort of have to be like that, considering their current situation."
Ben had to laugh at that. "Sounds like they gave you a warm welcome. Don't sweat it, Princess. From what I understand, Major Swift got a similar reception the first time he went down there."
He watched her as the barmaid dropped off his drink, admiring the way her eyes lit up as she handed the waitress a few gold coins. He grabbed the new cup and took a long, appreciative swig, swallowing the much needed and long overdue liquid.
"And what brings you to this part of Bowerstone, Captain?"
"Ah, the beautiful scenery mostly," he said sarcastically, motioning to the window beside them, "You just can't beat this view. Believe me when I say there's no other place in Albion where the smog is so thick that you can't tell the difference between night and day."
She giggled as she took another long drink, and he felt a strange sense of triumph knowing that he had caused it. "Realistically though, I just returned from Mourningwood, and this was the closest establishment to sell alcohol. The blackened skies are just a coincidental bonus."
She grinned brightly at him, and he wondered how anybody, even Page, could see a smile of such likeness and not trust the wearer. Catching sight of the clock that hung above the entrance of the bar, Sarah finished the last of her drink in one gulp before standing up suddenly, chair scraping against the floor as she pushed it back roughly.
"Sincere apologies, Captain. I'm not usually the kind of girl to buy a man a drink and then bolt, but I'm afraid I'll have to depart. I've a number of errands to run; a few lost items to retrieve, a handful of deliveries to hand out. Rebellion business. It's all a part of winning over the people. You know, helping the troubled, making a good name for myself, becoming an object of desire in the eyes of all Albion men, those sorts of things." She stretched her arms above her head, and Ben tried (but failed, for the most part) to ignore the smooth strip of skin that was revealed at the hem of her shirt (well, if she continues going about like that, she'll be able to check off that "object of desire" bit in no time).
He stood up to see her off (he was a gentlemen, after all), gathering her belongings from the floor and handing them to her.
"I suppose I'll be seeing you at the headquarters in a few days, then? I mean, once I've proved to Page and her men that I can do more than sip tea out of tiny cups and perform a flawless curtsy, of course."
"If the princess expects me there, then I wouldn't dream of disappointing her. Plus, it might help get me a piece of all of this rebellion action I've been hearing about. It's been far too long since I've stabbed or shot something, my weapons are getting restless."
She laughed again, and he decided that he could listen to that sound all day. "Very well then. It's a date."
Before he had a chance to dissect the meaning of her words, she turned on her heels and nearly ran out the door. He caught a glimpse of her dog following closely at her heels (his gaze certainly did not linger on her smooth calves, muscled thighs… Oh, Avo help me…) as she disappeared into the crowd.
He smirked to himself as he sat back down and ordered another round.
"It's a date." He echoed quietly.
Writing makes me happy (:
Did you like it? Yes? No? Either way, let me know. With the new review system, it's easier than ever. You don't even have to go to a new page! isn't that great?
My internet had been out for the past few weeks, and I had a LOT of free time, so the next few chapters are already written out, for the most part. I just need a few reviews to power my publishing mechanism. So if you love me, or hate me, won't you let me know?
No flaming please. I'm a woman, and women are the gentler sex.
Preview: Page is feeling awfully generous, and she just might let Ben tag along on the Reaver's Mansion excursion (;