A long time passed before Sparrow decided she needed to get out of the house. She had spent a frustrating amount of time around Reaver, and decided she would work on the house tomorrow. Locking the front door, she walked down to the Cow and Corset. On the short walk, she found herself still thinking about the damn King of Thieves.

What the hell is Reaver doing in Bowerstone, anyway? He lasted less than a week in Samarkand. He must have been either chased out by Garth, or got bored and left. Hopefully Bowerstone will bore him soon enough, and he'll leave me the hell alone.

She was too into her thoughts to notice the crowd buzzing around the bar. Walking in, she slipped in between the patrons, and looked to Dan, who nodded towards the same room she had used the previous night. She gave him a thankful nod in return. It had been a long, emotionally charged day, and she was simply ready for bed. Moving the broken furniture did no favors for her sore muscles, and she was exhausted. She had barely made it halfway before a voice carried over the room.

"Ah! And here's the woman I came all this way for, Sparrow! Care to join a fellow luminary for a drink?" Reaver's obnoxious voice carried across the bar. Turning, she gave him a look that could kill thousands, "Come on, my company can't be that bad!"

The tavern grew silent and waited for her move, but he had her cornered. Turning around, she walked back down the stairs and took a seat next to him. He handed her a pint.

"You're paying for my drinks, pirate." She whispered to him.

"Fair enough." He replied, then turned to entertain the other patrons in the building.

Whatever, the less people that talk to me, the more I can drink in peace.

While Reaver told obnoxious stories about his 'great travels', Sparrow kept drinking. As the night passed on, the Cow and Corset soon reduced to a few drunk patrons, all too focused on their drinks to listen to Reaver anymore. By this point, Sparrow was on her fifth pint and pretty buzzed. She debated if a sixth was worth it or not. Her choice was made, by Reaver cutting her off for the night.

"I think you've had enough." He said, pulling the cup away. Sparrow rolled her eyes.

"What do you care if I finish it or not? I can handle much more than this, and I'm more than willing to pay for my drinks from here on out." She said, taking back the cup, "Besides, I feel like this is the closest apology I'm going to get for your behavior in my home earlier."

"You mean when I willingly listened to your sob story about your childhood? I hardly see a reason to apologize for that." Reaver replied, once again taking the cup. This time he finished it before she could.

"And you probably never will, Reaver. " Sparrow sighed, "Just forget about it. I need some air."

Walking up the stairs, she went to the balcony. Looking over Bowerstone's market, she reminisced on the hero she used to be. Over the years, doing hero work nonstop was catching up to her. When she was 17, she was inspired. Driven and motivated. She was excited for her quests and to help the people, but she focused so much on others she neglected herself. After spending over 20 years of her life trying to bring down an insane tyrant, she was tired. Not just tired. Burned out. Sparrow no longer felt passionate about the hero life, and wanted to be done. Losing Bryn and Rosary were the breaking point.

For the third time that day, tears were running down Sparrow's face.

What's wrong with me? I've never cried this much in my life.

She heard footsteps behind her and began trying to compose herself.

"There you are." It was Reaver, "Mind if I join you?"

Sparrow didn't respond, instead she chose to stare over town.

"I'll take that as an invitation out." He said, walking out to stand by her.

"What do you want?" Sparrow muttered.

"You seem upset. What's on your mind?" He asked, leaning over the railing.

The hero shook her head, "You wouldn't understand."

"I might not, but I can listen." She stared at him, unsure why he was so persistent. Reaver never wanted to hear other people's problems, let alone offering to listen.

"Oh come on, I can't be that bad to be around."

Well, he probably isn't going to let up, might as well tell someone.

She sighed, and stared back out across the town,"I guess I expected more out of reaching my goal. I've fully mastered my abilities, and Lucien is dead. I thought after killing him, I would feel more fulfilled. Instead, I'm a shell of who I used to be. I'm not the girl I knew 15 years ago."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I used to be excited about hero work. I knew that the more I dedicated myself to bringing down Lucien, the sooner this town, Albion- the world would be safe from his tyranny. No one would suffer anymore at his hand. It's why I did what I did, why I spent ten years infiltrating the Spire. Now, I just feel numb. The last few days, I've realized how much of life had been robbed from me, and how much I missed in life. I'm burned out, and just want to be done. I can't do this anymore, I've become weak."

Sparrow buried her hands in her face. Reaver was thinking about what to say.

After hesitating a moment, he reached out to touch her shoulder, "For what it's worth...I don't think you're weak. At all."

Confused, she stared at Reaver.

Is he...trying to console me?

"What do you mean?"

"Well...when you first lost someone you were too young to remember that, and when your sister died you were practically unconscious the entire time. Any grieving before your family, you were able to throw yourself into hero work, I'm assuming. This is probably the first time you've been forced to deal with the emotions you've likely pushed aside all this time. On top of that, you're grieving the family you had. You're handling it a lot better than many others would." Reaver shrugged, and turned back to the railing. "By the way, I'm sorry."

"What?" Sparrow stared at him again.

"For earlier. I had no right to insult your late husband. From what you've told me, he seems like he was actually a pretty damn good husband and father." Reaver avoided meeting her eyes. The apology was unfamiliar territory for him, and the pirate found himself flushed.

His apology seems genuine, but I can't help but feel like its part of a plot. He wants something out of me.